Life in the Folds

by Henri Michaux, Darren Jackson (Translator)

Life in the Folds , originally published in French in 1949, is the Belgian-born author and artist Henri Michaux's (1899-1984) most direct exploration of the many forms of suffering, a laboratory of fantastical, destructive energies in which the poet presents his methods for dealing with the world around him. The first two sections offer such items as the Slapping Gun and the Man Sling (in the section "Freedom of Action") to the scenarios that call for defensive measures such as the "Constellation of Jabs" and the visceral "Blow of Fatigue" (in the section "Apparitions"). Also included is one of Michaux's more complex fantastical-anthropological travelogues, "Portrait of the Meidosems," an account of the ways and manners of a population of vague ectoplasmic figures, anguished filaments of sorts that struggle to exist but are never allowed to sit still. This volume charts a turning point in Michaux's life and in the world, where his earlier depictions of visualized psychology and suffering found representation in a traumatized Europe. Imbued by the war years, the Occupation and the horror of the concentration camps, Life in the Folds bears the scars of Michaux's own personal catastrophe--the loss of his wife, who had died of "atrocious burns" the previous year--and concludes with the autobiographical text, "Old Age of Pollagoras," a wearied testament uttered before a haunted "plain of death."

Genres: Poetry, France, French Literature, Fiction

168 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1949

About the author

Henri Michaux was a highly idiosyncratic Belgian poet, writer and painter who wrote in the French language. Michaux is best known for his esoteric books written in a highly accessible style, and his body of work includes poetry, travelogues, and art criticism. Michaux travelled widely, tried his hand at several careers, and experimented with drugs, the latter resulting in two of his most intriguing works, Miserable Miracle and The Major Ordeals of the Mind and the Countless Minor Ones.

Reviews

[Milanimal · Rating 4 out of 5]

not my favourite Michaux but who cares

[Ella ss · Rating 3 out of 5]

Half of this book is gold, half is the worst most incel ridden poetry I’ve ever read.

[Lance Grabmiller · Rating 3 out of 5]

Begins as a collection of prose poems of immense anger and bitter humor, suffused with something like body-horror. Gives way to vast and surreal meditations filled with an immense void, a sadness driven into weariness.

[Quiver · Rating 5 out of 5]

Suppose an empty room contains a gigantic apple.

That’s a proposition even more disturbing than Rene Magritte’s Listening Room.

Henri Michaux’s collection of texts from 1949, Life in the Folds, is the oddest of gigantic apples. If unchecked, it inflates into a daunting monstrosity of ambiguous intent. Indeed, the exquisite mind-contortion chambers contained within it defy obvious origin or characterisation: I started to write a brief post about Michaux's work, so I copied out all the interesting quotes, only to realise I’d copied out chunks from nearly every page of the book.

Life in the Folds consists of over fifty short texts (and a few longer ones); they are mostly prose, with titles such as The Man-Sling, On the Skewer, In Plaster, Never Imagine, The Danger in Associations of Thoughts, The Trepanned Patient, Recommended Instrument: Apartment Thunder.

From that last one:

Instead of eliminating every kid in the area, it would be more peaceful to let thunder reign over the apartment, or over the room where their shouting is shredding peace.

A great force of noisy will is necessary … It’s better not to employ a brass band: even imaginary brass will cause a headache. In which case, why go through the trouble?

With thunder, provided it’s easy enough to handle, you should be able to put up with a good hour and a half of some brats playing shouting. More than that gets difficult.

It’s be better to move.

Anyway, one should always avoid schools. Even after twenty years, they can still stir up memories.

Some of his texts be considered mini-stories with hints of plot, but perhaps a good label is thought experiments, or—to move a step away from scientific connotations and Einstein—violent thoughts.  A longer descriptor would be: uncomfortably fascinating meditation on pain: psychological, physical, abstract, concrete, subtle, searing.

It’s easy to dismiss such material as fodder for psychiatrists, especially when we find out that Michaux’s biography includes both war and his wife’s sudden death, but violent thoughts occur in most fiction regardless, as necessary motivators well-woven into the fabric of plot.

It’s also easy to dismiss such material as extraneous or incendiary because violent thoughts already occur in most of life—surely that suffices?—but the subject is often taboo and so, if unaddressed, can lead to people’s lives collapsing insidiously.

With that in mind, there are at least two salubrious approaches to Michaux:

As a reader looking for a contained, concrete space to ruminate on negative feelings about others and the self. Perhaps as a springboard for a later discussion.
As a critic or meta-reader exploring writing techniques that conjure up the weird and the pain-fear-terror-inducing (but not grossly shocking) while observing your own reactions to those selfsame techniques.

Regarding the first approach: Safe exploration of on-page violence, no matter how imaginary or disassociated from heart-rending characterisations, requires mental mettle—if your environment or state of mind isn't conducive to challenging reading, leave Life in the Folds for another day.

Regarding the second: I highly recommend it. You'll discover hidden chinks in your mind where fear can grow as well as some mighty tools (pun intended) for the delicate manipulation of the fear-inducing in your own writing.

[W · Rating 2 out of 5]

This started really well. The first section (Freedom of Action) was great. Then it went downhill fast; it's too poetical (that's a me thing, I don't like poetry) and nonsensical (there's no contextual clues, it's not possible to know what he's talking about).

This wasn't a good book.

[Cary Stough · Rating 5 out of 5]

Probably my favorite Michaux book.

[Leandro Rafael Perez]

If poems in prose really exist, the best ones are here.