The unnamed American narrator of this memoir-in-old-age novel came to Paris shortly after the Armistice in 1919. Father was a high-class gigolo, always off with another rich woman (and Mother knew it--which is why she, though French, stayed in the U.S.). The son, therefore, fended for himself, getting a job as a translator/typist for an English-language news service that was covering, as was all of France, the unfolding ghoulish tale of Landru, the short, dapper, and unlikely bourgeois Bluebeard accused of swindling and killing dozens of women. What's more, the narrator's typing job also leads this young innocent-abroad to Gertrude Stein (by chance: she was selling a typewriter she didn't care for). With these setups, then, Wiser (K, The Wolf Is Not Native to the South of France) is able to people his historical reinvention with the stuff of newspapers and the stuff of literature and art as well: Alice B., Picasso, Braque. And then the narrator also meets Fleur--an ex-prostitute and model haunted by thee ""disequilibre"" of nightmares and a hidden past; she serves Wiser as a kind of spatula, neatly flipping the book and reinforcing the Landru theme at the same time. In fact, the Bluebeard's escapades at first just mystify and mock the young man, who's busy with his own sexual education. Then, when he finds Fleur--and when, later, she disappears--the Landru monster enters his thoughts more personally and darkly: what became of Fleur, lost without a trace? By the end, then, sexual crime has moved out of abstraction and into apprehension. Wiser handles all of this very trimly; the writing has a crisp authority to it; and if the disparate pieces never actually lock as tightly together as they're meant to, they still carry sufficient charm, piece-by-piece. Sophisticated, underplayed work from an increasingly intriguing writer.
This should be on the "neglected books" website. A totally wonderful historical novel about a young man in Paris involved as a newspaper reporter on Landru, the famous serial killer. It is similar (but was written years before) "Devil in the White City" except all the "Devil" architecture chapters are replaced with soirees of Gertrude Stein and Alica B. Toklas. You can find a copy online for a dollar or so and I promise you'll e recommending it to your friends
this book had so much potential but ended up being wildly disappointing. it wasn’t awful and it had parts that i enjoyed. towards the end it felt like the author completely lost the point of the story, the main character didn’t have much of a personality to begin with so writing an end for him was clearly very forced. he also introduced random plot lines with no significance 20 pages before the book ended. many of the important characters that were present throughout the book were severely lacking any personality or proper characterization yet by the end of the book you were supposed to be able to fully understand the resolutions of their stories.
I am halfway through this excellent historical novel. It is about a young American 18 years old living in Paris just after World War I and just starting a career as a writer. It is a coming of age story about a love affair with a young model/girl of the streets set against the backdrop of writing news stories about the trial of a sensational serial killer.
One of the finest works I’ve ever read. I’m more of a gonzo-fiction, cyberpunk type, but I was entranced by this book. I happened to read Tim O’Brien’s “In the Lake of the Woods”— another excellent work—at about the same time and both still speak to me. “Disappearances” wasn’t for me a page-turner like O’Brien’s novel. Instead I often re-read long sections to set the mood going forward.
I acquired this novel of William Wiser at a book fair last February. I find immense delight in its midst. It's a piece of literature that weaves a compelling mystery with touches of humor, philosophy, and distinctive style. It was intense, sad, but darkly beautiful. The plot was so insane, indeed one of the most satisfying novels I have read this year. I looked up the author and found that he was an american anthropologist, born in 1890. It was mesmerizing with the fact that I still got to read an old book published in 1980. The fact that this author existed just like me, makes my mind blown. He died in Februrary 1961, and I stumbled upon his literary work in February 2023. I hope he knows a Generaztion Z read his book. It was amazing. ❤️