Lamento per Julia: e altre storie

by Susan Taubes, Giuseppina Oneto (Translator)

Julia Klopps, nata in una famiglia dell’alta borghesia mitteleuropea, è figlia di padre e madre Klopps, persone fredde e bizzarre che vivono in una casa decadente circondate da cameriere e tate. Da piccola Julia è una sognatrice, si rifugia nella soffitta e fantastica di essere rapita dagli zingari o da un principe nero. A quindici anni viene deflorata da Bruno, un soldato poco attraente, e a diciotto sposa Peter Brody, brillante ingegnere navale dalla testa piccola e l’aspetto grigio. Compiuti i trent’anni, quando forse dovrebbe prendere una decisione sulla donna che vorrebbe essere, Julia sparisce. A piangere la sua scomparsa e a narrare la sua storia è una voce senza uno spirito che si suppone incaricato della sua supervisione. Che cos’è questo spirito? Un operatore dall’alto (anche se non certo un santo), un io narrante, una presenza guida più che un voyeur. Di lei sa molto e molto poco, perché l’essere emotivo, fisico e sessuale di Julia è sconcertante, ma anche affascinante, per un’entità che è pura mente. I due sono una coppia male assortita, destinata al fallimento fin dall’inizio, anche se per un po’ riescono a gestire l’infanzia, mamma e papà, i brutti vestiti rosa, i balli e le cotte. Poi arrivano l’amore e il matrimonio, non necessariamente in quest’ordine, e a quel punto le cose iniziano ad andare davvero male.
Lamento per Julia, capolavoro del grottesco elogiato da Susan Sontag e Samuel Beckett, è una brillante esplorazione della doppia coscienza di una donna. Rimasto inedito durante la vita di Susan Taubes, è stato recentemente pubblicato negli Stati Uniti dalla prestigiosa NYRB insieme alla selezione di racconti inclusa in questo volume.

«Un testo corposo e vivace, una scrittrice di grande intensità e inventiva».
Susan Sontag

«Un libro pieno di tocchi erotici e di linguaggio crudo, il prodotto di un autentico talento. Lo rileggerò».
Samuel Beckett

Genres: Fiction, Short Stories, Classics, Novels, American, 20th Century, Hungarian Literature

269 pages, Kindle Edition

First published November 16, 2015

About the author

Susan Taubes (1928 – 6 November 1969), born Judit Zsuzanna Feldmann, was a Hungarian-American writer and intellectual. Taubes was born in Budapest, Hungary, into a Jewish family. In 1939, Susan Feldmann emigrated to the United States with her father (but without her mother, Marion Batory). She studied at Harvard, wrote her PhD thesis on The Absent God. A Study of Simone Weil, supervised by Paul Tillich, and published on philosophy and religion. She compiled "African Myths and Tales," published in New York in 1963 under her maiden name, and published her first novel, Divorcing, in 1969. Taubes committed suicide shortly after publication by drowning herself off Long Island in East Hampton. Her body was identified by Susan Sontag.

Reviews

[Katia N · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a kind of book that i would be pushing into the hands of anybody who reads if I would be the kind of person who does it. Alas, unfortunately I am not sure her work would be widely read even now. It certainly was not understood in the 60s of the last century when she wrote it. Indirectly or maybe even directly it cost her life. She was a rare talent combined with a fragile soul and almost unearthly physical beauty. It has appeared to be the unforgivable combination.

This novella is as original as it is relatable, another rare combination. I normally do not care for “the relatability” factor. But here it works so naturally and unobtrusively, so penetratively that i was caught almost against my own will.

It also manages to combines lyricism with the precision of language. But the main striking element is the narrator. The story is told by the voice that belongs to someone or something that cannot be easily defined. It/she/he tries to introduce it/her/himself at the beginning:

‘A consciousness has been struck in the flesh like a nail, or merely attached to the forehead like a miner’s lamp... a creature within the creature’

But even this creature finds it impossible be more specific. One can say it has imbedded Julia, the main character. But it would be wrong:

'If she were simply a body and I simply a mind. If only it were as simple as that. But we are a jumble of odd bits and between us we do not even make up a person.'

They are so entangled with each other, this voice and Julia, that it is impossible to separate them. The closest it ever gets to defining the voice is when it said: “I in the third person”. At the very beginning Julia disappeared. In the following pages the voice told their story. And I am as a reader was trying to grasp the relationship between them; every time i got closer it eluded me next minute. But I enjoyed the game. I think the author has managed to convey very successfully this type of internal struggle that happens inside any human being, the contradiction between different parts of self, an internal dialogue or sometimes even an argument that rarely can be articulated for oneself, never mind for anyone else.

There was this wonderful scene when Julia was proposed by her future husband:

'I had no part in it, except for random impressions, the toy ship sailing, a pigeon’s feather, gold candy wrapper and a child’s ribbon at the bottom of the basin. Julia stood by the fountain; the wind blew her hair in her eyes. But Peter Brody didn’t see her face. He was sitting on the rim of the fountain, her skirt touching his cheek, looking up her waist, the swell of her breasts. His hadn’t stroked her skirt, to smooth a fold, to brush off a bit of pollen, or simply to feel the fabric which was part of her. He stroked her skirt, his hand sought hers, their fingers clasped; his arms bent around her waist and he pressed his face against her thigh. A miracle was happening; it was not for them to know it; they were part of it.

It is such a layered passage. The first layer is pure cinema, how vividly the author describes the moment. Each small detail adds to the scene and makes it incredibly moving. Or maybe again it is just the relatability of the first serious love in one’s life, somehow it feels just so real. And the second layer is how the author shows this split within the girl’s perception. Two sides almost but not quite watch each other. The voice notices just external small details such a “gold candy rapper at the bottom of the basin” and looks at Julia as if from outside. While Julia is inside of the moment. But truly again you just cannot separate them. I can think of some moments in my life when i felt like that: both inside and outside of the scene, with all senses heightened and slightly out of synch; but never i felt more whole than it those moments.

I thought i’ve heard a subtle echo of Beckett. So i was not surprised to find out that he was an influence. That she tried to write “the female The Unnamable”. Fortunately, she has totally internalised this influence. Her prose is much less abstract, she is not that interested in depicting silence as Becket is. It is the absence instead of silence she is after. And her “Unnamable” is much more engaged in the world for better or worse. I was happy to find out that Beckett himself knew about her work and called her “an authentic talent without doubt”.

Written almost a decade earlier, this novella also anticipates Malina by Ingeborg Bachmann, almost hauntingly so. Malina might be considered more cryptic and complex. On the surface, its heroine cannot be further from Julia. But essentially they are haunted by the same “spirits”, trapped between the men in their life in a similar way and determined by the ruthlessness logic of time.

“not I or she, only Julia”.

PS
There are also a few short stories in this NYRB volume. But I've written only about the novella.

[Bill Hsu · Rating 3 out of 5]

The title novella is one of the more bizarre pieces I've read in awhile. I tend to be bored by domestic narratives, but the narrator (?) is so relentlessly, unselfconsciously nutty and unreliable, I was just swept along by its batty momentum and humor.

The shorter stories are mixed, populated by unhappy marriages, irrational lusts, intimidating psychoanalysts, and other jaundiced fairy tale inhabitants. "The Patient" has a kind of grim obsessiveness and absurdity that I associate with some of Brian Evenson's work, though it reads quite differently. I loved the voice of the boy narrator in "The Sharks", as he reasons his way through various dreamscapes:

Each time the sharks came. First one then a second and a third, they came at him from several sides and from below, white and faceless, their killing jaws cut askew in their undersides. ... He didn't dare to turn and flee, as it was for his legs he feared most. He would have offered his throat or heart, but he knew the shark would chew off his legs.

The four pages of "Easter Visit" comprise uneasy dream-like scenes involving the narrator and his cousin Hester:

She walks so lightly that I am not aware of her standing at my elbow, until I see the thin, freckled hand place a saucer of milk before me. I am sure the milk is poisoned, but I close my eyes and gulp it down quickly. When I open them she is gone.

Taubes' characters often have detached and naive attitudes toward sexual situations:

She skirts my bed, feeling her way lightly along my leg. Then runs her palm across my loin, furtively like a child touching the marble balls of a statue.

"The Gold Chain", one of my favorite pieces here, has a fairy tale feel and plays with a number of fairy tale tropes. Again the detached and dream-like sexual situations, some horrifically violent, stark contrasts with Rosalie and Sylvanus' bizarre relationship. I know I'm being extra picky when I would prefer that the story ended here, instead of a paragraph later:

But the child was more cunning than she. He ducked down in the grass and let her rush past headlong into the dark tangled woods. When he was sure she was out of earshot he stood up and laughed and laughed.

"The Last Dance", another sly, sour fairy tale, would have closed the collection elegantly, but for the rather heavy-handed and unsurprising ending. I'm already hunting for a copy of Taubes' novel Divorcing.

[3.5 stars, rounded down]

[Bob Jacobs · Rating 4 out of 5]

Aanrader, zeker voor de fans van onbetrouwbare vertellers zoals bij Lolita en Pale Fire van Nabokov of Deceit van Felsen.

Vlotte, snelle stijl en tegelijk profound.

[Eva]

As if Screwtape were written by Freud, De Beauvoir, and Simone Weil

[Sydney · Rating 3 out of 5]

Hands down my favorite novel written from the perspective of a shapeless, horny, ego demon suspended in the opal jelly of someone’s eye.

[Grace · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a book I wish I could have talked about in class, but I read it independently. So much to wrestle with here, but overall, so much gorgeous writing, which I appreciate very much. I think if this had been published when it was written it would have been a very influential text (and the premise is actually similar to Emezi’s Freshwater, a book I didn’t like. I’m glad to have found this one.)

[Sarah]

Ik zie Julia op dinsdagmiddag door de stad lopen. Ze draagt een groezelige regenjas, beweegt zich voort met grote stappen, het hoofd geheven, de blik recht vooruit. Wie zou vermoeden welke schat ze met zich meedraagt? Alsof ze haar hart, haar lot, al haar glorie en schande bij zich heeft, haar ziel uit zijn bewaarplaats mee de straat op heeft genomen, in haar handen geklemd houdt, een levende plant die ze heeft ontworteld, of een jonge vogel die ze uit het nest heeft gepakt. Jaren later, terwijl ik het speelgoed van de kinderkamervloer opraap, volg ik haar nog steeds over de boulevard en hijg ik: Wie ben je? Huizenblok na huizenblok loop je over het trottoir, opgejaagd door god weet welke vage belofte, langs de denkbeeldige krijtstreep die naar een bepaalde deur leidt.

[Eva Gelder · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved it, en danku voor het prachtige cadeau mijn liefste Pino ♡

[Brett Glasscock · Rating 3 out of 5]

my edition (nyrb) was Lament for Julia + some bonus short stories. it was a bit weird to not include them on a table of contents page; when i got to the first short story i didn't really know if it was part of Lament for Julia or not. anyway. Lament for Julia itself was really beautifully written but the novella was too much of talking about the story than it was about telling the story.

staubes's short stories ranged from ok to really good. she's pretty great at bleak, desolate stories about women living in pseudopurgatories. her adaptation of Medea was particularly good.

[Clara Martin]

The title story/novel is one of the strangest things I've ever read. Reminded me of My Death by Lisa Tuttle, the stories of Fleur Jaeggy, and maybe a little bit of Olga Tokarczuk's The Empusium with its eerie narrative positioning...

[Viktoria Winter · Rating 4 out of 5]

There’s so much to unpack here. Overall, I loved the writing style and prose! A really unique novel, but also one that leaves me feeling strange.

[Drew Praskovich · Rating 4 out of 5]

Female pervert writers forever!!!!!

[Josephine Wajer-Busch · Rating 4 out of 5]

Taubes laat ons zien dat genialiteit en gekte dicht bij elkaar liggen. Ik leerde Taubes kennen uit de dagboeken van haar hartsvriendin Susan Sontag, las de briefwisseling met Jakob Taubes en haar grote biografische roman 'Scheiden'. In 'Scheiden' leeft Sophie om te schrijven en gaat daarin tot het uiterste, als toeschouwer van haar eigen dood. In het eerder geschreven, maar recent ontdekte 'Treurzang voor Julia' gaat Taubes nog een stap verder. De verteller is een geest/ engel/ het (slechte) geweten. De geest zegt zelf 'oneindig variabel te zijn, tegenstrijdige rollen aan te nemen, en uiteindelijk te verdwijnen en haar aan haar over te laten.' Vooral in Julia's jonge jaren heeft de geest haar volledig in zijn greep. Omdat we vanuit het vreemde perspectief van de geest kijken, moet je als lezer moeite doen om je te identificeren met iemand of iets. En juist dit fascineert. Dit boek roept heel wezenlijke vragen op en is even bizar als briljant, lees het zelf maar.

[mat3rialg3rl · Rating 3 out of 5]

finished, blearily, while driving from baku to qebele w 2 indian couples in a six-seater, post-fever but throat still sore

some bonkerz short stories but lament for julia, despite dragging, weighing heavily on me. last night gio said i was sleep talking and at 3:15 he asked me what my name was and I said julia

[Anna Suh · Rating 5 out of 5]

a book for the angels

“Yet all my pains were toward preparing her for God”

what comprises woman? taubes deals with my favorite matters: religion, woman, psychoanalysis, flesh

[Janie · Rating 4 out of 5]

lovely prose written by an obviously deranged woman so its everything i love

[Laura Bies · Rating 3 out of 5]

Will admit that two out of five parts were something of a slog -- Julia is far enough away that I'm not sure whether I care, and the unnamed "I" is abrasive in his attentions towards her, fluctuating between admiration and disgust in a way that fails to endear the reader to either party.

However, there are some extremely satisfying lines throughout, and the final pages approach (I won't say "evoke") Molly Bloom's memory of feeding her soon-to-be-husband seedcakes at Howth, so it's hard to give this anything less than 3 stars.

"In my lustful fascination with the carnality of woman I have at times stopped in the middle of my act of make-believe to take a real bite out of the flesh-and-blood Julia. At such moments Julia seems to take possession of me, erupt in me. But I cannot be certain whether it is Julia who gets out of control or whether it is not rather I. No sooner have I created my illusion than I want to luxuriate in the reality."

"The day I said I, Julia was dead already, gone already."

[moony · Rating 4 out of 5]

the main story — lament for julia — is incredible and something so messing with my brain. it’s a story from
the 60s but the author, perhaps unknowingly, wrote what i now read as a she/they manifesto against gender binary. an exploration of self so vulnerable, i at times felt inferior reading.

“but we are a jumble of odd bits and between us we do not even make up a person.”

the other stories were more or less interesting, but the way taubes plays around with her writing and explores angles of femininity and womanhood is fascinating.

[Janne · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Ik ben altijd van oordeel geweest dat de wereld maar al te concreet aanwezig was. Alleen aan mijn eigen bestaan twijfelde ik. En dan brengt het me geen stap verder als ik zeg dat er iets boven alle twijfel verheven is, namelijk dat ik twijfel. Hooguit dwingt het me een stap terug te doen: een oneindige reeks zekerheden omtrent het bestaan van twijfel.” (p.112)

[Lisa · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Wie ben je? Huizenblok na huizenblok loop je over het trottoir, opgejaagd door god weet welke vage belofte, langs de denkbeeldige krijtstreep die naar een bepaalde deur leidt.” En: https://shorturl.at/gPNAk

[Stephanie Frazier · Rating 3 out of 5]

i like reading something different from anything i've ever read before, and this definitely fits into that category. well written and captivating, but disturbing.

[Chelsea · Rating 3 out of 5]

the novella itself was boring and tedious - im not interested in stories about a narrator obsessing over a girl. but the short stories at the end of the book were, to my surprise, so good!!! each had a different narrative style but they were all unsettling and pretty deranged! i would give 2 stars for the novella, 4.5 stars for the short stories

[Daphne Surink · Rating 4 out of 5]

Beautiful

[emma]

“Oh God, Oh, God! But we were beyond happiness and misery. Beatific horror, wretched bliss, whatever it was, however bewildering, dreary, pitiful, inane—it was life!”

[ruth · Rating 3 out of 5]

lament for julia only started to click & be good at part 4; i liked the short stories tho

[Esther · Rating 5 out of 5]

there it is. the best thing i'll read this whole year. in April

[Abby Richmond · Rating 5 out of 5]

This changed my life

[Colm Slevin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Susan Taubes would be a freak by today’s standards so it’s insane to imagine how she was treated during the 1960s. The contemporary retelling of Medea I think will live with me for a while

[Alexandra · Rating 4 out of 5]

[small flirtations,] they embellish a woman, like her linens, her jewels. Of course she must have admirers... Each is a mirror in which you can behold yourself in a different angle. See, you are a whole gallery of portraits, portraits you can live in... Each had captured something of your nobility, your charm, your sadness, your strange repose. They catch your ephemeral reflections.

[Allie Autumn · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5

The title novella "Lament For Julia" gets 5 stars. It's a surreal exploration of internalized misogyny and separation of consciousnesses. It's language is beautiful and, while slow, is never not interesting.

I lowered the rating because of some of the stories my edition came with. Most were good, but a couple were nonsensical and plain uninteresting.