Poisson soluble, on l'a oublié, était préfacé, à l'origine, par le Manifeste du surréalisme ; Breton proposait à la fois l'exigence esthétique subversive et l'une de ses possibles réalisations. Témoignage du premier élan du surréalisme, Poisson soluble était déjà situé par Breton dans une perspective historique : "Les caractères communs à tous les textes de ce genre [...] ne s'opposent pas à une certaine évolution de la prose surréaliste dans le temps." Gracq souligne bien l'originalité de ce que le Pape du surréalisme venait ainsi de réaliser : "Le poème redevient soluble dans la poésie, son orient fragile et changeant nous parle sans cesse d'une eau mère, d'un plasma poétique dont la pulsation l'irrigue et auquel continue de l'unir une vivante consanguinité. Le diamant mallarméen cède la place à la perle des mers."
After World War I, French poet and literary theorist André Breton began to link at first with Dadaism but broke with that movement to write the first manifesto of surrealism in 1924.
People best know this theorist as the principal founder. His writings include the Surrealist Manifesto (Manifeste du surréalisme), in which he defined this "pure psychic automatism."
Breton’s Soluble Fish, I believe, presents his writing as a “modest recording instrument” that captures his mental chatter in the liminal space of the conscious and unconscious (Breton, p. 28). The idea of the image—what Breton describes as “the juxtaposition of two more or less distant realities” rather than simple comparisons, make themselves decently present within the works of Soluble Fish and devolve into an almost trance-like state that suits the nature of automatic writing (Breton, p. 20). Our minds, rather than making lacking comparisons, see the juxtaposition of these two realities as a moment of enlightenment. This “light of the image” lacks premeditation, cannot be translated into practical language (both due to contradiction and concealment), and relies on the autonomous and irrational actions of the writer (Breton, p.37).
The twelfth passage in Soluble Fish describes a vague scientific fiction story that reverts its ending back to its origins, giving it a loop effect. The almost satire-like style of Breton’s writing gives way to another discussion of whether this work can still be considered surrealist due to its higher clarity and seemingly low appearances of images throughout the text. I would also like to mention my annotations in the margins of these texts and how the text itself leaves room for readers to make meaning from it—as noted by my inquiries about the patients and what their purposes in the study were supposed to be. Would this still be considered surrealist? These questions and my need to find meaning leaves me to believe that Breton perhaps failed in making this text just as dream-like as section one is presented, and rather makes a satirical perspective of conventional scientific thought.