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Martereau
Martereau is narrated by a tubercular young man driven by a compulsion to discover what lies behind facades, especially in relation to the adults around him. He's particularly interested in Martereau, his uncle's devoted friend and business associate. All in all, Martereau seems like a trustworthy, benign, self-sufficient man, but under the narrator's intense scrutiny--and Martereau's suspect behavior concerning a shady real-estate deal--his motives seem much more complex and seedy. In a subtle, skillful way, Nathalie Sarraute explores the difference between those who are wealthy and those who pretend to be so, and the manipulative way in which some people get ahead in the world.
250 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1964
5 people are currently reading
178 people want to read
About the author
Nathalie Sarraute
76 books229 followersNathalie Sarraute (July 18, 1900 in Ivanovo, Russia – October 19, 1999 in Paris, France) was a lawyer and a French writer of Russian-Jewish origin.
Sarraute was born Natalia/Natacha Tcherniak in Ivanovo (then known as Ivanovo-Voznesensk), 300 km north-east of Moscow in 1900 (although she frequently referred to the year of her birth as 1902, a date still cited in select reference works), and, following the divorce of her parents, spent her childhood shuttled between France and Russia. In 1909 she moved to Paris with her father. Sarraute studied law and literature at the prestigious Sorbonne, having a particular fondness for 20th century literature and the works of Marcel Proust and Virginia Woolf, who greatly affected her conception of the novel, then later studied history at Oxford and sociology in Berlin, before passing the French bar exam (1926-1941) and becoming a lawyer.
In 1925, she married Raymond Sarraute, a fellow lawyer, with whom she would have three daughters. In 1932 she wrote her first book, Tropismes, a series of brief sketches and memories that set the tone for her entire oeuvre. The novel was first published in 1939, although the impact of World War II stunted its popularity. In 1941, Sarraute, who was Jewish, was released from her work as a lawyer as a result of Nazi law. During this time, she went into hiding and made arrangements to divorce her husband in an effort to protect him (although they would eventually stay together).
Nathalie Sarraute dies when she was ninety-nine years old. Her daughter, the journalist Claude Sarraute, was married to French Academician Jean-François Revel.
From Wikipedia
Sarraute was born Natalia/Natacha Tcherniak in Ivanovo (then known as Ivanovo-Voznesensk), 300 km north-east of Moscow in 1900 (although she frequently referred to the year of her birth as 1902, a date still cited in select reference works), and, following the divorce of her parents, spent her childhood shuttled between France and Russia. In 1909 she moved to Paris with her father. Sarraute studied law and literature at the prestigious Sorbonne, having a particular fondness for 20th century literature and the works of Marcel Proust and Virginia Woolf, who greatly affected her conception of the novel, then later studied history at Oxford and sociology in Berlin, before passing the French bar exam (1926-1941) and becoming a lawyer.
In 1925, she married Raymond Sarraute, a fellow lawyer, with whom she would have three daughters. In 1932 she wrote her first book, Tropismes, a series of brief sketches and memories that set the tone for her entire oeuvre. The novel was first published in 1939, although the impact of World War II stunted its popularity. In 1941, Sarraute, who was Jewish, was released from her work as a lawyer as a result of Nazi law. During this time, she went into hiding and made arrangements to divorce her husband in an effort to protect him (although they would eventually stay together).
Nathalie Sarraute dies when she was ninety-nine years old. Her daughter, the journalist Claude Sarraute, was married to French Academician Jean-François Revel.
From Wikipedia
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Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews
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June 26, 2020My decision to read a second book by Nathalie Sarraute has really paid off in terms of deepening my understanding of her first book, Tropismes, which is a series of glimpses into unnamed characters' inner reactions, shorn of context for the most part.
Reading Martereau is like finding the context that had been removed from the first book. The inner reactions of the characters are still the focus but Sarraute has now added plot and chronology. Scenes are no longer removed from time; we can follow characters actions and see the result when those actions impinge on other characters' lives; relationships between the characters are made clear; there is finally a character name: Martereau.
Only one name is mentioned however. The narrator remains nameless as do the other main characters: his uncle, a successful businessman, whose mantra, il faut tapper sur le même clou (you have to keep hammering the same nail to succeed in life) rhythms the narrative; the uncle's wife; and the couple's daughter. This is the 'family' with whom the adult narrator (in fragile health) lives more or less as a dependent.
Martereau doesn't enter the family's life until nearly half-way through the book, and there is the sense that had he not existed, he would have been conjured up by the narrator—his entrance serves such a desperate need on the narrator's part. He sees Martereau as a possible gift or even a weapon to use in his constant struggle for survival inside his uncle's family. The struggle is never openly acknowledged. Instead it is carried out under the surface of their very polite commmunications, which means that daily life in the household is ridden with tensions. These tensions are similar to the ones which are the focus of Tropismes: dominant personalities, the aunt and uncle, in combat with each other continually, and each dominating the nephew and his cousin, who themselves are rivals of sorts and not utterly defenseless victims of the aunt and uncle. And just as in Tropismes, the inner motivations of the characters are revealed through what seem like multiple tellings of similar fraught episodes, episodes where characters are described as if they were organisms retracting on contact with the other, or else devouring the other.
As in Tropismes, the vocabulary often evokes softness, quivering, malleability, but in this book, harder, solider words are inserted here and there like nails.
It's interesting that the name Martereau is similar to the French word 'marteau', which means 'hammer'. Each character seeks to use Martereau to strike a blow against the others. But Martereau himself may be capable of striking his own blows. It's a game of victor and victim, strike or be struck.
A fascinating examination of family dynamics.
Reading Martereau is like finding the context that had been removed from the first book. The inner reactions of the characters are still the focus but Sarraute has now added plot and chronology. Scenes are no longer removed from time; we can follow characters actions and see the result when those actions impinge on other characters' lives; relationships between the characters are made clear; there is finally a character name: Martereau.
Only one name is mentioned however. The narrator remains nameless as do the other main characters: his uncle, a successful businessman, whose mantra, il faut tapper sur le même clou (you have to keep hammering the same nail to succeed in life) rhythms the narrative; the uncle's wife; and the couple's daughter. This is the 'family' with whom the adult narrator (in fragile health) lives more or less as a dependent.
Martereau doesn't enter the family's life until nearly half-way through the book, and there is the sense that had he not existed, he would have been conjured up by the narrator—his entrance serves such a desperate need on the narrator's part. He sees Martereau as a possible gift or even a weapon to use in his constant struggle for survival inside his uncle's family. The struggle is never openly acknowledged. Instead it is carried out under the surface of their very polite commmunications, which means that daily life in the household is ridden with tensions. These tensions are similar to the ones which are the focus of Tropismes: dominant personalities, the aunt and uncle, in combat with each other continually, and each dominating the nephew and his cousin, who themselves are rivals of sorts and not utterly defenseless victims of the aunt and uncle. And just as in Tropismes, the inner motivations of the characters are revealed through what seem like multiple tellings of similar fraught episodes, episodes where characters are described as if they were organisms retracting on contact with the other, or else devouring the other.
As in Tropismes, the vocabulary often evokes softness, quivering, malleability, but in this book, harder, solider words are inserted here and there like nails.
It's interesting that the name Martereau is similar to the French word 'marteau', which means 'hammer'. Each character seeks to use Martereau to strike a blow against the others. But Martereau himself may be capable of striking his own blows. It's a game of victor and victim, strike or be struck.
A fascinating examination of family dynamics.
abandoned
September 12, 2023Abandoned at p. 125. Incredibly dull.
April 6, 2020
" il s'était rétracté : un très léger recul, un mouvement à peine perceptible, de ceux qu'on perçoit souvent sans l'aide du moindre signe extérieur, sans l'aide d'un mot, d'un regard ; on dirait qu'une onde invisible émane de l'autre et vous parcourt, une vibration chez l'autre, que vous enregistrez comme un appareil très sensible, se transmet à vous, vous vibrez à l'unisson, parfois même plus fort..."
Comme pour Portrait D'un Inconnu, je trouve que les tropismes décrits par Sarraute ont quelque chose en plus quand ils sont exprimés par un narrateur-personnage, par un "je" sensible. C'est à mon avis ce qui manque parfois dans Le Planétarium. Le "je" de Martereau, en accordant un accès totalement libre à sa subjectivité, permet au/à la lecteur.ice de saisir la "sous-conversation" des petits drames de l'existence.
Comme pour Portrait D'un Inconnu, je trouve que les tropismes décrits par Sarraute ont quelque chose en plus quand ils sont exprimés par un narrateur-personnage, par un "je" sensible. C'est à mon avis ce qui manque parfois dans Le Planétarium. Le "je" de Martereau, en accordant un accès totalement libre à sa subjectivité, permet au/à la lecteur.ice de saisir la "sous-conversation" des petits drames de l'existence.
August 6, 2023
this book is mostly made up of a whole lot of mundane, banal social interactions in and around the narrator's bourgeois family examined with such a close and pitiless lens that it becomes deeply uncomfortable, sort of like it was written by a fucked up martian or robot.
April 3, 2024
This is officially my new favorite book
Ever read
Go read it in French, Pia
Ever read
Go read it in French, Pia
lecture-abandonnée
August 16, 2021Un portrait intime des gens ennuyeux...
April 26, 2020
Ranskalaisen uuden romaanin tärkeisiin nimiin kuuluvan Nathalie Sarrauten proosa on täynnä pinnan alla värähteleviä jännitteitä. Tunnistettavaksi sen tekee kolmen pisteen toistuva käyttö; ajatukset hakevat suuntaansa, niiden liikkeet pyritään tuomaan esiin huomaamattomimpia värähdyksiä myöten. Lauseiden rytmi on lähellä täydellistä. Juonen tasolla ei tapahdu paljoa: enonsa perheen luona asuva nuori mies tutkii perhettä ajoittain julmallakin katseella, joka näyttää ihmisten väliset suhteet pelinä, ja merkittäväksi käänteeksi muodostuu enon asuntokauppa perheystävä Martereaun kanssa. Sarrautessa on jotain erityistä … tekee vain mieli kulkea hänen kielensä mukana … nauttia rytmistä … soljua ja katsoa, miten psyykkeen langat yhdistyvät … miten ne purkautuvat … Tämä sopii uudestaan luettavaksi ja tutkittavaksi.
”en pääse heistä eroon, en pysty lähtemään pakoon … olen heissä kiinni kuin liimassa, pääsemättömissä, sairas, niin minä heille huutaisin – –” (s. 18)
”Toisten reaktiot, niin odottamattomilta kuin ne joskus vaikuttavatkin, eivät todella tule meille yllätyksenä. Sellaista reaktiota ei olekaan, joka ei jo aikaisemmin olisi esiintynyt luonnonasteella, jota jo emme olisi vaistonneet tunnustamatta sitä itsellemmekään.” (s. 130)
”en pääse heistä eroon, en pysty lähtemään pakoon … olen heissä kiinni kuin liimassa, pääsemättömissä, sairas, niin minä heille huutaisin – –” (s. 18)
”Toisten reaktiot, niin odottamattomilta kuin ne joskus vaikuttavatkin, eivät todella tule meille yllätyksenä. Sellaista reaktiota ei olekaan, joka ei jo aikaisemmin olisi esiintynyt luonnonasteella, jota jo emme olisi vaistonneet tunnustamatta sitä itsellemmekään.” (s. 130)
May 30, 2022
Beautiful language - something special and particular to novels written in French translated to English - but a bit boring for my tastes. And sometimes it was hard to understand the winding thought processes written out.
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August 19, 2023Lu au complet, mais je n'ai pas vraiment compris le livre :'( .
Il y a un jeu sur les pronoms à un moment (il me semble), je ne suis pas trop sûr de comprendre quel âge à la narratrice ni pourquoi sa manipulation fonctionne (ou non).
Il y a un jeu sur les pronoms à un moment (il me semble), je ne suis pas trop sûr de comprendre quel âge à la narratrice ni pourquoi sa manipulation fonctionne (ou non).
May 11, 2018
Psychologische roman van een mooi staaltje gespreksanalyse van spanning naar ontspanning en van wantrouwen naar vertrouwen.
July 5, 2024
"Siempre esta enfermiza curiosidad, esta necesidad de conocer lo que esconden, de echar una mirada detrás de sus decorados, de ver confirmado lo que olfateo, presiento" Nathalie Sarraute
February 5, 2025
J’ai surtout apprécié le style
June 14, 2016
MARTEREAU Nathalie Sarraute
I thought I was prepared. My memory of our time together in The Planetarium seemed clear. The shared smiles and laughter at her observations, at the frailty of others, not unkind just factual, the moments of despair, a feeling of sorrow for their weakness, their petty concerns, their humanity.
Eager to resume our intimacy, to rise and fall together, the effortless grace as she led me, a turn here, a pause there, then a headlong rush forward, no turning back, ever forward, the pleasure of being one, the same yet apart, never sure the pleasure was intended by her or just the creation of thought she allowed to flourish. I anticipated moments of insecurity enhancing the excitement, then release when I was again sure we were entwined as one.
And so it begins.
She is moving toward me.
There is no hint of recognition. She is oblivious to my existence.
She brushes past already fully engaged in her narrative. She must know where she is headed; her prose is so well constructed. This cannot be idol wandering, searching, but I am lost for the moment.
Why are we here? The protagonist is too obscure, unformed. Am I missing something, was there a signpost that was passed without notice?
I question my ability to follow her. I worry that my mind has become too inflexible to absorb and understand her meaning. Is there a meaning, or is it just there? The moment observed and endured, lived. Selected facts, observations, thought, distortion, misinterpretation, reality, that is all there is. It is life. Six characters turn into twelve, then more, changing with the vantage point of the narrator. The trusted confederate turns into a suspected betrayer, comforter now torturer, strength from the weak, and weakness from the stern taskmaster. We are moving again. Be patient they will all return to their former positions only to move again.
I have been weakened by too many years of reading mediocre authors caught in the churning and retelling of the same story. Stagnation hailed as a “best seller” drawing readers into the same three act play: introduction to the characters and the problem at hand, a struggle to find the right path during which the protagonist will confront his shortcomings and grow, and the final resolution that wraps it all up for the lazy reader – the end.
Sarraute turns away from conventional wisdom repeated to authors by a legion of agents, editors, and publishers: “Make it more approachable…Reach out to the audience…Give the readers what they want…This is too obscure…Read the best sellers in your genre.” She did not have the time. She was too committed to moving forward.
I thought I was prepared. My memory of our time together in The Planetarium seemed clear. The shared smiles and laughter at her observations, at the frailty of others, not unkind just factual, the moments of despair, a feeling of sorrow for their weakness, their petty concerns, their humanity.
Eager to resume our intimacy, to rise and fall together, the effortless grace as she led me, a turn here, a pause there, then a headlong rush forward, no turning back, ever forward, the pleasure of being one, the same yet apart, never sure the pleasure was intended by her or just the creation of thought she allowed to flourish. I anticipated moments of insecurity enhancing the excitement, then release when I was again sure we were entwined as one.
And so it begins.
She is moving toward me.
There is no hint of recognition. She is oblivious to my existence.
She brushes past already fully engaged in her narrative. She must know where she is headed; her prose is so well constructed. This cannot be idol wandering, searching, but I am lost for the moment.
Why are we here? The protagonist is too obscure, unformed. Am I missing something, was there a signpost that was passed without notice?
I question my ability to follow her. I worry that my mind has become too inflexible to absorb and understand her meaning. Is there a meaning, or is it just there? The moment observed and endured, lived. Selected facts, observations, thought, distortion, misinterpretation, reality, that is all there is. It is life. Six characters turn into twelve, then more, changing with the vantage point of the narrator. The trusted confederate turns into a suspected betrayer, comforter now torturer, strength from the weak, and weakness from the stern taskmaster. We are moving again. Be patient they will all return to their former positions only to move again.
I have been weakened by too many years of reading mediocre authors caught in the churning and retelling of the same story. Stagnation hailed as a “best seller” drawing readers into the same three act play: introduction to the characters and the problem at hand, a struggle to find the right path during which the protagonist will confront his shortcomings and grow, and the final resolution that wraps it all up for the lazy reader – the end.
Sarraute turns away from conventional wisdom repeated to authors by a legion of agents, editors, and publishers: “Make it more approachable…Reach out to the audience…Give the readers what they want…This is too obscure…Read the best sellers in your genre.” She did not have the time. She was too committed to moving forward.
December 22, 2008
the prose is just as hypnotically gorgeous as in tropisms and portrait of a man unknown, but the story is almost naturalistic and very day-to-day reality. this could almost be a virginia woolf book. i can't fault the woman for trying something new (so far all three of her books that i've read have been very very different), and portrait of a man unknown is a pretty damn hard act to follow, but still i was a little disappointed.
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May 21, 2010I actually didn't quite read all of this book. It was one of our books from book group - the nueveau roman period.
However, we did a lot of reading in book group and discussed the book thoroughly, so I've read-ish, and hope to go back and read through it again.
It is a neat experiment with the novel and makes the reader very aware of himself.
However, we did a lot of reading in book group and discussed the book thoroughly, so I've read-ish, and hope to go back and read through it again.
It is a neat experiment with the novel and makes the reader very aware of himself.
January 10, 2009
I am actually reading this in the Dalkey Archive edition (great books, which I recommend). This is not very good
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June 9, 2010Never has repulsion been so beautifully and meticulously expressed.
Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews