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Les manigances, journal d'une égoiste
Ce roman bref est une sorte de journal intime, de monologue face à la vie avec ses hasards, ses accidents, ses coïncidences. Ce monologue est mis dans la bouche de Clarisse Duval, «chanteuse réaliste», à un entracte de sa vie, dû à un de ces accidents, en quoi notre époque est si atrocement fertile. C'est la lutte entre la volonté de l'être humain et ce que Clarisse appelle les manigances du sort... Chez elle, un jour, la volonté reviendra avec la vocation du théâtre. Alors son égoïsme, qui n'était qu'une légende, devient une réalité du fait de cette passion qui crée et justifie les «monstres sacrés» dans tous les domaines d'activité, l'art, la science, la politique, le sport.Mais le destin de Clarisse Duval reste accessoire ici, où l'essentiel est la vie comme elle va, la vie prise dans son mouvement, son courant, à n'importe quel moment, à n'importe quel endroit, se terminant n'importe quand et n'importe où, le «fil en aiguille» de la vie qui, avec et pour Elsa Triolet, devient toujours une «histoire».
152 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1962
2 people are currently reading
56 people want to read
About the author
Elsa Triolet
75 books38 followersElsa Yur'evna Triolet (September 24 1896 - June 16, 1970) was a French writer.
Born Ella Kagan (Russian: Элла Каган) into a Jewish family of a lawyer and a music teacher in Moscow, she and her sister, Lilya Brik received excellent educations; they were able to speak fluent German and French and play the piano. Elsa graduated from the Moscow Institute of Architecture.
Elsa enjoyed poetry and in 1915 befriended the aspiring futurist poet and graphic artist Vladimir Mayakovsky. When she invited him home, the poet fell madly in love with her older sister Lilya, who was married to Osip Brik. Elsa was the first to translate Mayakovsky's poetry (as well as volumes of other Russian-language poetry) to French.
In 1918, at the outset of Russian Civil War, Elsa married the French cavalry officer André Triolet and emigrated to France, but for years in her letters to Lilya Elsa admitted to being heartbroken. Later she divorced Triolet.
In the early 1920s, Elsa described her visit to Tahiti in her letters to Victor Shklovsky, who subsequently showed them to Maxim Gorky. Gorky suggested that the author should consider a literary career. The 1925 book In Tahiti, written in Russian, was based on these letters.
In 1928 Elsa met French writer Louis Aragon. They married and stayed together for 42 years. She influenced Aragon to join the French Communist Party. Triolet and Aragon fought in the French Resistance.
In 1944 Triolet was the first woman to be awarded the Prix Goncourt.
She died, aged 73, in Moulin de Villeneuve, Saint-Arnoult-en-Yvelines, France of a heart attack.
In 2010, La Poste, the French post office, issued three stamps honoring Triolet.
Born Ella Kagan (Russian: Элла Каган) into a Jewish family of a lawyer and a music teacher in Moscow, she and her sister, Lilya Brik received excellent educations; they were able to speak fluent German and French and play the piano. Elsa graduated from the Moscow Institute of Architecture.
Elsa enjoyed poetry and in 1915 befriended the aspiring futurist poet and graphic artist Vladimir Mayakovsky. When she invited him home, the poet fell madly in love with her older sister Lilya, who was married to Osip Brik. Elsa was the first to translate Mayakovsky's poetry (as well as volumes of other Russian-language poetry) to French.
In 1918, at the outset of Russian Civil War, Elsa married the French cavalry officer André Triolet and emigrated to France, but for years in her letters to Lilya Elsa admitted to being heartbroken. Later she divorced Triolet.
In the early 1920s, Elsa described her visit to Tahiti in her letters to Victor Shklovsky, who subsequently showed them to Maxim Gorky. Gorky suggested that the author should consider a literary career. The 1925 book In Tahiti, written in Russian, was based on these letters.
In 1928 Elsa met French writer Louis Aragon. They married and stayed together for 42 years. She influenced Aragon to join the French Communist Party. Triolet and Aragon fought in the French Resistance.
In 1944 Triolet was the first woman to be awarded the Prix Goncourt.
She died, aged 73, in Moulin de Villeneuve, Saint-Arnoult-en-Yvelines, France of a heart attack.
In 2010, La Poste, the French post office, issued three stamps honoring Triolet.
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
June 29, 2019
Ahojda,
Elsa byla čmafíta od Lujse Aragona a taky švagrová Majakovskýho. Základ na dobrou literární polívku by tu tedy byl, ale bohužel, u toho to taky skončilo. Tahle knížka je o jedný megeře, která chce zpívat, ale pořád blekotá, že neví, jestli je sobecká nebo ne. Bylo to únavější než jít v šest odpoledne do Billy. Tam si člověk ve frontě aspoň může vyřešit Velkou fermatovu větu a zažonglovat s ředkvičkama. Na závěr kniha nějak skončila, ale jelikož jsem ji četl už minulý týden a mezitím jsem dvakrát navštívil kóma s panem Whisky, už si ani nepamatuju, co se vlastně stalo.
4/10
Elsa byla čmafíta od Lujse Aragona a taky švagrová Majakovskýho. Základ na dobrou literární polívku by tu tedy byl, ale bohužel, u toho to taky skončilo. Tahle knížka je o jedný megeře, která chce zpívat, ale pořád blekotá, že neví, jestli je sobecká nebo ne. Bylo to únavější než jít v šest odpoledne do Billy. Tam si člověk ve frontě aspoň může vyřešit Velkou fermatovu větu a zažonglovat s ředkvičkama. Na závěr kniha nějak skončila, ale jelikož jsem ji četl už minulý týden a mezitím jsem dvakrát navštívil kóma s panem Whisky, už si ani nepamatuju, co se vlastně stalo.
4/10
July 21, 2025
Pas mal, je trouve l'idée géniale, écrire à la première personne un journal d'une femme égoïste qui ne voit son monde qu'à travers son propre spectre, qu'elle ne remet jamais en question, est probablement la meilleure façon de comprendre ce type de personnage.
May 19, 2020
Although Triolet is a fascinating figure, none of the books I've read by her so far have stayed with me and this one is no exception. It starts with a brillant paragraph that reads: "Je suis considérée dans la famille comme un exemple d'égoïsme. Cela dure depuis si longtemps qu'aujourd'hui je pourrais bien me dévouer pour mon prochain avec un oubli total de moi-même, on n'y trouverait jamais qu'une preuve d'égoïsme, une raison d'égoïste. Je pourrais soigner des lépreux, me jeter dans le feu pour sauver un enfant, me dépouiller pour venir en aide à une famille nombreuse, rien n'y ferait: je mourrais égoïste." Similarly the last paragraph is quite powerful: "Avez-vous remarqué que la vie ne se coupe pas en tranches? Que ce n'est pas du gâteau?" Unfortunately, what we have in between is a rather lame story about a Piaf-like singer, Clarisse Duval, who has a hard time getting back to work after a car accident. Marc, her husband, agent and business partner, finally secures her a coveted slot singing in a posh club, but the club owner dies just as her engagement is starting. Abruptly, Clarisse decides to switch careers and try acting in a play by Porto-Riche based on the courtesan Zubiri. She also leaves Marc for Hugo, the wealthy owner of many theaters and movie theaters. It is was not clear to me whether Triolet meant Clarisse to be an unreliable narrator but in any case the book is too hurried and crammed with random incidents to amount to much.
January 7, 2022
Annen bir ayna olacak ömür boyu sana. Ne dediyse senin için, hiç sevmesen de, aslında öyle değilim ben desen de bir yandan kabul edeceksin. Onun sesi, duygusu, düşüncesi seninle bir ömür…Sanki bir “ben” varım bana söylenen,gösterilen; bir de “ben” varım benimin yaşadığı…
Clarissa bir yandan
ona yakıştırılan “bencilliği’yle mücadele ediyor, bir yandan da geçirdiği kaza sonrası travması yüzünden şarkı söylemek istemeyişi ve eni konu olumsuz birine dönüşmesiyle…
Su gibi duru, sakin, incelikli, yoğun ve samimi bir dili var…Yaşamdan konuşmak gibi…Aileden, ben olmaktan, aşktan, başa çıkamamaktan…Okuyun8️⃣
“Beni sevdiler kuşkusuz... Öylesine kötü sevdiler ki, hâlâ izlerini taşıyorum. Babamla belki bir kez eşit düzeyde oldum: Babamla yalnız kaldığım gece; o, tabutun içinde, ben ise yanı başında bir iskemlenin üzerinde... Hiçbir şey söylemiyordu ve onu kendimce sevmeme artık engel olamıyordu; artık canımı sıkmıyordu.”
“Sevgili anneciğim benim mutsuzluğum için neler feda etmedi ki bana! Beni başarısızlığa uğratmak, işe yaramaz hale getirmek ve bunaltmak için neler yapmadı ki... Yine ve her zaman, yaşantımın, işimin, tasarılarımın, beklentilerimin en yoğun olduğu anda her şeyi yüzüstü bırakıp onunla birlikte plaja gitmem ya da gotik sanatına hayran olmam gerekirdi. Ona eşlik ederdim, elbette ederdim, ağlamak ve ondan nefret etmek için, gerçekten nefret etmek için... Bencillik!
Clarissa bir yandan
ona yakıştırılan “bencilliği’yle mücadele ediyor, bir yandan da geçirdiği kaza sonrası travması yüzünden şarkı söylemek istemeyişi ve eni konu olumsuz birine dönüşmesiyle…
Su gibi duru, sakin, incelikli, yoğun ve samimi bir dili var…Yaşamdan konuşmak gibi…Aileden, ben olmaktan, aşktan, başa çıkamamaktan…Okuyun8️⃣
“Beni sevdiler kuşkusuz... Öylesine kötü sevdiler ki, hâlâ izlerini taşıyorum. Babamla belki bir kez eşit düzeyde oldum: Babamla yalnız kaldığım gece; o, tabutun içinde, ben ise yanı başında bir iskemlenin üzerinde... Hiçbir şey söylemiyordu ve onu kendimce sevmeme artık engel olamıyordu; artık canımı sıkmıyordu.”
“Sevgili anneciğim benim mutsuzluğum için neler feda etmedi ki bana! Beni başarısızlığa uğratmak, işe yaramaz hale getirmek ve bunaltmak için neler yapmadı ki... Yine ve her zaman, yaşantımın, işimin, tasarılarımın, beklentilerimin en yoğun olduğu anda her şeyi yüzüstü bırakıp onunla birlikte plaja gitmem ya da gotik sanatına hayran olmam gerekirdi. Ona eşlik ederdim, elbette ederdim, ağlamak ve ondan nefret etmek için, gerçekten nefret etmek için... Bencillik!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 12, 2024
J’ai commencé ce livre en matinée au soleil voulant le terminer en un traite. J’ai drôlement pas compris son titre, un mot qui m'était jusque là inconnu.
J’ai aimé le délire dans lequel la narratrice nous amène, une anxiété profonde, une maladresse avec la vie - elle faisait des décisions qui me paraissaient parfois absurde - son cerveau l’amenait dans les creux de la terre, sans trop que je comprenne pourquoi telle pensée menait à l'autre. C'était étrange et fascinant d’avoir accès à une manière de pensée tellement différente de la mienne. Était-elle réellement égoïste, si elle en était aussi consciente? C'était un sujet qui m’habite aussi, qui me préoccupe. Je me questionne sur mes habitudes par rapport aux autres, ce qui me semble être de la générosité se trouve peut être de l'égoïsme?
Son rapport a la mort m’intriguait également, elle se sentait coupable de quelque chose qu’elle ne contrôlait pas, son anxiété aveuglait sa perception, la laissant penser que tout lui était causé. Mais j’aimais qu’elle approchait la question de la mort sans hésiter, sans se préoccuper des tabous qui entourent la mort.
Un court livre qui m’a amené quelques réflexions et à occuper mon esprit le temps d’une journée.
J’ai aimé le délire dans lequel la narratrice nous amène, une anxiété profonde, une maladresse avec la vie - elle faisait des décisions qui me paraissaient parfois absurde - son cerveau l’amenait dans les creux de la terre, sans trop que je comprenne pourquoi telle pensée menait à l'autre. C'était étrange et fascinant d’avoir accès à une manière de pensée tellement différente de la mienne. Était-elle réellement égoïste, si elle en était aussi consciente? C'était un sujet qui m’habite aussi, qui me préoccupe. Je me questionne sur mes habitudes par rapport aux autres, ce qui me semble être de la générosité se trouve peut être de l'égoïsme?
Son rapport a la mort m’intriguait également, elle se sentait coupable de quelque chose qu’elle ne contrôlait pas, son anxiété aveuglait sa perception, la laissant penser que tout lui était causé. Mais j’aimais qu’elle approchait la question de la mort sans hésiter, sans se préoccuper des tabous qui entourent la mort.
Un court livre qui m’a amené quelques réflexions et à occuper mon esprit le temps d’une journée.
May 22, 2015
Kao da čitaš nekoliko stranica nečijeg dnevnika, koji nije ni toliko zanimljiv.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews