I started this book because it was on my bookclub list. And from the very start, the author can't help but double up each. And. Every. Single. Term. He uses. As if he was both eager to please, to demonstrate a talent he is not sure he posesses (and by the end, so are we) , and never sure enough of himself that he could not choose in his drafts the correct term to use (p. 16: "une pensée pure, débarrassée des images inutiles, des métaphores superflues" well case in point, he should have taken to heart his own observations)
It gets tiring extremely fast, and the incipit is quite telling in this regard. Looks like he opened a synonymes dictionnary and looked up synonymes of "not a" : "rien" "pas l'ombre" "pas trace" "pas non plus "" et jamais ".
He also uses the worn-out cliché of the visionnary blind man, sure. Then the overdose of useless oxymorons is so over the top that it gets overused but not only to death, but to extinction. And same goes for the dragged out metaphors : talking about a text in braille "les adjectifs (...) dessinaient une chaîne alpine, formaient une cordillère des Andes, inventaient des Rocheuses lexicales". (p16)
As for the theme, it in an hagiographical biography of Jacques Lusseyran, who became blind aged 8, entered the French Résistance at 17, arrested by the Gestapo, deported to Buchenwald and released 1 year and a half later. Emigrated to the States to teach Literature, he died in a car accident aged 47 (the SPOILERS are all on the 4th cover). The... Well blind admiration for the character, including his unavoidable deffects (philanderer, abandonned his children,...), don't contribute at all to make us empathetic towards him, and the hasted finale of his life in a car accident, off with a student 15 years his junior would have looked great in a remake of "Le mépris" by Jean-Luc Goddard.
Nevertheless, the author still manages to get off his own subject again, still crying over the loss of unedited masterpieces that his hero must have written, and wanders off to reflexions about his own father, or on himself finishing the book with a last teeth-grinding cliché of the writer meeting an "eye-opening blind man":" s'exercer à fermer les yeux est aussi important qu'apprendre à les ouvrir" p. 184
We are so lucky to get a last taste of his insatiable need to explain obvious things (I mean, surely we need someone to explain what a kaleidoscope is: p.185 “- ce tube de miroirs réfléchissant la lumière extérieure où les verres concassés produisent de l'art brut")
So to conclude, seeing that the author is chroniquing in the famous French radio show "le masque et la plume" on France Inter and us known for his scathing reviews, I think it's only fair that he gets his fair share once he's gone on the other side. Sure now the proof is in the cake : commenters can't be good makers.
Cha Zam