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Canoës
« J'ai conçu Canoës comme un roman en pièces détachées : une novella centrale, «Mustang», et autour, tels des satellites, sept récits. Tous sont connectés, tous se parlent entre eux, et partent d'un même désir : sonder la nature de la voix humaine, sa matérialité, ses pouvoirs, et composer une sorte de monde vocal, empli d'échos, de vibrations, de traces rémanentes. Chaque voix est saisie dans un moment de trouble, quand son timbre s'use ou mue, se distingue ou se confond, parfois se détraque ou se brise, quand une messagerie ou un micro vient filtrer leur parole, les enregistrer ou les effacer. J'ai voulu intercepter une fréquence, capter un souffle, tenir une note tout au long d'un livre qui fait la part belle à une tribu de femmes - des femmes de tout âge, solitaires, rêveuses, volubiles, hantées ou marginales. Elles occupent tout l'espace. Surtout, j'ai eu envie d'aller chercher ma voix parmi les leurs, de la faire entendre au plus juste, de trouver un «je», au plus proche. ».
(M. de K.)
(M. de K.)
160 pages, Paperback
First published May 13, 2021
41 people are currently reading
811 people want to read
About the author
Maylis de Kerangal
45 books481 followersMaylis de Kerangal est une femme de lettres française, née le 16 juin 1967 à Toulon. Elle passe son enfance au Havre, fille et petite-fille de capitaine au long cours. Elle étudie en classe préparatoire au lycée Jeanne-d'Arc de Rouen et ensuite à Paris de 1985 à 1990 l'histoire, la philosophie et l'ethnologie. Elle commence à travailler chez Gallimard jeunesse une première fois de 1991 à 1996, avant de faire deux séjours aux États-Unis, à Golden dans le Colorado en 1997. Elle reprend sa formation en passant une année à l'EHESS à Paris en 1998.
Carrière d'écrivain[modifier | modifier le code]
Elle publie son premier roman, Je marche sous un ciel de traîne, en 2000, suivis en 2003 par La Vie voyageuse, puis par Ni fleurs, ni couronnes en 2006, Dans les rapides en 2007 et par Corniche Kennedy en 2008. Ce dernier roman figure cette année-là dans la sélection de plusieurs prix littéraires comme le Médicis ou le Femina.
Elle crée en même temps les Éditions du Baron Perché spécialisées dans la jeunesse où elle travaille de 2004 à 2008, avant de se consacrer à l'écriture. Elle participe aussi à la revue Inculte3.
Son roman Naissance d'un pont est publié en 2010. Selon elle, « Il s’agit d’une sorte de western, autrement dit d’un roman de fondation, et la référence à ce genre cinématographique opère dans le texte, l’écriture travaille en plan large, brasse du ciel, des paysages, des matières, des hommes, et resserre sa focale sur les héros qui sont toujours pris dans l’action, dans la nécessité de répondre à une situation. ». Le 3 novembre 2010, l'ouvrage remporte à l'unanimité et au premier tour le prix Médicis. Le livre remporte aussi le Prix Franz Hessel et est, la même année, sélectionné pour les prix Femina, Goncourt, et Flore. Le Prix Franz Hessel permet à l'ouvrage de bénéficier d'une traduction en allemand, parue en 2012 chez Suhrkamp.
En 2011, elle est l'une des participantes du Salon du livre de Beyrouth au BIEL (Beirut International Exhibition & Leisure Center).
En 2012, elle remporte le prix Landerneau pour son roman Tangente vers l'est paru aux éditions Verticales.
En 2014, elle est la première lauréate du Roman des étudiants France Culture-Télérama (ancien Prix France Culture-Télérama), pour son roman Réparer les vivants14 qui a été aussi couronnée par le Grand prix RTL-Lire 2014. Dans celui-ci, elle suit pendant 24 heures le périple du coeur du jeune Simon, en mort cérébrale, jusqu'à la transplantation.
Carrière d'écrivain[modifier | modifier le code]
Elle publie son premier roman, Je marche sous un ciel de traîne, en 2000, suivis en 2003 par La Vie voyageuse, puis par Ni fleurs, ni couronnes en 2006, Dans les rapides en 2007 et par Corniche Kennedy en 2008. Ce dernier roman figure cette année-là dans la sélection de plusieurs prix littéraires comme le Médicis ou le Femina.
Elle crée en même temps les Éditions du Baron Perché spécialisées dans la jeunesse où elle travaille de 2004 à 2008, avant de se consacrer à l'écriture. Elle participe aussi à la revue Inculte3.
Son roman Naissance d'un pont est publié en 2010. Selon elle, « Il s’agit d’une sorte de western, autrement dit d’un roman de fondation, et la référence à ce genre cinématographique opère dans le texte, l’écriture travaille en plan large, brasse du ciel, des paysages, des matières, des hommes, et resserre sa focale sur les héros qui sont toujours pris dans l’action, dans la nécessité de répondre à une situation. ». Le 3 novembre 2010, l'ouvrage remporte à l'unanimité et au premier tour le prix Médicis. Le livre remporte aussi le Prix Franz Hessel et est, la même année, sélectionné pour les prix Femina, Goncourt, et Flore. Le Prix Franz Hessel permet à l'ouvrage de bénéficier d'une traduction en allemand, parue en 2012 chez Suhrkamp.
En 2011, elle est l'une des participantes du Salon du livre de Beyrouth au BIEL (Beirut International Exhibition & Leisure Center).
En 2012, elle remporte le prix Landerneau pour son roman Tangente vers l'est paru aux éditions Verticales.
En 2014, elle est la première lauréate du Roman des étudiants France Culture-Télérama (ancien Prix France Culture-Télérama), pour son roman Réparer les vivants14 qui a été aussi couronnée par le Grand prix RTL-Lire 2014. Dans celui-ci, elle suit pendant 24 heures le périple du coeur du jeune Simon, en mort cérébrale, jusqu'à la transplantation.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 108 reviews
March 2, 2025
Rather mid, this collection of loosely bound short stories, focusing on women voices and bound together by mentions of canoes. The language of the first-person perspectives is quite homogeneous across the stories, interspersed with arcane words like alveolar or bivouac
The complexity of human testimony strikes me even more, now, than the observed facts themselves.
Thoughts per story below, in general I love interconnected stories so I am kind of disappointed with Canoës, I do see some connecting themes but I wouldn't say this amalgamates into something particularly poignant in the end.
Also the afterword by Maylis de Kerangal on how the bundle is partly a reflection of Covid-19 and the disappearance of faces behind masks didn't really translate for me, people have answering machines, blackberries and expensive intercontinental calls in this book, giving it a 90s/early 2000s vibe for me overall.
Bivouac - Dentist visit elicits thoughts about hunter-gatherer ancient jaw finds, bivouac being hunting stations, and a friend of a mother who was widowed after a freak helicopter accident
Mountain stream and iron filings - Woman meets a friend who tries to breakthrough on the radio by lowering her voice, taking a anthropologist perspective on human interaction which mirrors that of researchers of apes
Mustang - A Parisian woman is adapting to life with her Kid in wintery Denver. There is a Sam in his 30s, a student of the University of Mining 1870 in town, while she is unmoored from her previously working life. Colorado is home to dinosaur remains and a woman called Cassandra, mad about stones. Our main character travelled together with Sam, who is changed, louder, now he no longer speaks French. This is the longest story, and it is atmospheric, her trip with public transport reminded me of the urban desolation Miami seemed to be when we tried one day not to use an Uber, but then cold.
However the section with the driving instructor is so over the top American it feels a bit lazy to me, except for her use of almost ritualistic instruction furthering the theme of voice and women that permeates the book.
Nevermore - a vocal recording of The Raven turns arduous, supervised by the intense, almost performance art a.k.a. Daft Punk like Klang sisters.
A Light Bird - probably the most powerful story in the bundle, on a father and daughter coming to terms with the death 5 years ago of a mother.
Papa, I want you to erase Mum’s voice from the answering machine.
After - A girl picks up trash from the meadow of her graduation party. Screaming, while her brother stutters severely, offers a release with consequences for vocal cords.
Ontario - an impression of a woman visiting Toronto. A friend of her has a recital/performance voice, but also suffered a familial loss..
Arianespace - A 92 year old is visited by an UFO hunter. The barebones of a set-up to a story.
The complexity of human testimony strikes me even more, now, than the observed facts themselves.
Thoughts per story below, in general I love interconnected stories so I am kind of disappointed with Canoës, I do see some connecting themes but I wouldn't say this amalgamates into something particularly poignant in the end.
Also the afterword by Maylis de Kerangal on how the bundle is partly a reflection of Covid-19 and the disappearance of faces behind masks didn't really translate for me, people have answering machines, blackberries and expensive intercontinental calls in this book, giving it a 90s/early 2000s vibe for me overall.
Bivouac - Dentist visit elicits thoughts about hunter-gatherer ancient jaw finds, bivouac being hunting stations, and a friend of a mother who was widowed after a freak helicopter accident
Mountain stream and iron filings - Woman meets a friend who tries to breakthrough on the radio by lowering her voice, taking a anthropologist perspective on human interaction which mirrors that of researchers of apes
Mustang - A Parisian woman is adapting to life with her Kid in wintery Denver. There is a Sam in his 30s, a student of the University of Mining 1870 in town, while she is unmoored from her previously working life. Colorado is home to dinosaur remains and a woman called Cassandra, mad about stones. Our main character travelled together with Sam, who is changed, louder, now he no longer speaks French. This is the longest story, and it is atmospheric, her trip with public transport reminded me of the urban desolation Miami seemed to be when we tried one day not to use an Uber, but then cold.
However the section with the driving instructor is so over the top American it feels a bit lazy to me, except for her use of almost ritualistic instruction furthering the theme of voice and women that permeates the book.
Nevermore - a vocal recording of The Raven turns arduous, supervised by the intense, almost performance art a.k.a. Daft Punk like Klang sisters.
A Light Bird - probably the most powerful story in the bundle, on a father and daughter coming to terms with the death 5 years ago of a mother.
Papa, I want you to erase Mum’s voice from the answering machine.
After - A girl picks up trash from the meadow of her graduation party. Screaming, while her brother stutters severely, offers a release with consequences for vocal cords.
Ontario - an impression of a woman visiting Toronto. A friend of her has a recital/performance voice, but also suffered a familial loss..
Arianespace - A 92 year old is visited by an UFO hunter. The barebones of a set-up to a story.
September 11, 2023
(3.5) These eight stories are all in the first person; although I tend to prefer more diversity of narration, the plots are so dissimilar that it makes up for that homogeneity. In an author’s note at the end, de Kerangal writes that her overall theme was voices, especially women’s voices; perhaps ironically, then, the collection uses no speech marks. In “Mountain Stream and Iron Filings,” the narrator’s friend Zoé is on a mission to lower her voice to make it more suitable for radio. “Nevermore” has a woman contributing a recording of herself reading Edgar Allan Poe’s epic poem “The Raven” to an audio library. “A Light Bird,” which I found particularly poignant, is about a widower and his daughter deciding what to do about their late wife’s/mother’s voice on the answering machine.
“After” has a school leaver partying and figuring out what comes next, “Ontario” revolves around a trip to Canada, and “Arianespace” has an investigator visiting an elderly woman who has reported a UFO sighting. The longest story (billed as a novella), “Mustang,” focuses on a French family that has relocated to Colorado in the 1990s. The mother, recently bereaved, learns to drive their rather impractical American car.
Like Painting Time, the collection is in thrall to questions of deep time. This is clearest in “Bivouac,” in which a woman undergoes a procedure while the dentist tells her about an ancient human jawbone found deep under Paris. Prehistory is even present in the metaphorical language: “the first foothills of the Rockies sketched the backbone of a sleepy stegosaurus who’d escaped extinction” (from “Mustang”). Each story also mentions a canoe, if only in passing (e.g., the dentist’s necklace charm in the first story).
As was my main quibble with Mend the Living, though, de Kerangal is all too fond of arcane vocabulary. I mean, she uses “alveolar” twice in this very short book; there’s also “sagittal slices” and “sinuous mnemic circuits.” Some sentences stretch to fill two-plus pages. So overwriting is a recurrent issue I have with her work, but I would certainly recommend that her fans read her short fiction, which I found more accessible than her novels.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
“After” has a school leaver partying and figuring out what comes next, “Ontario” revolves around a trip to Canada, and “Arianespace” has an investigator visiting an elderly woman who has reported a UFO sighting. The longest story (billed as a novella), “Mustang,” focuses on a French family that has relocated to Colorado in the 1990s. The mother, recently bereaved, learns to drive their rather impractical American car.
Like Painting Time, the collection is in thrall to questions of deep time. This is clearest in “Bivouac,” in which a woman undergoes a procedure while the dentist tells her about an ancient human jawbone found deep under Paris. Prehistory is even present in the metaphorical language: “the first foothills of the Rockies sketched the backbone of a sleepy stegosaurus who’d escaped extinction” (from “Mustang”). Each story also mentions a canoe, if only in passing (e.g., the dentist’s necklace charm in the first story).
As was my main quibble with Mend the Living, though, de Kerangal is all too fond of arcane vocabulary. I mean, she uses “alveolar” twice in this very short book; there’s also “sagittal slices” and “sinuous mnemic circuits.” Some sentences stretch to fill two-plus pages. So overwriting is a recurrent issue I have with her work, but I would certainly recommend that her fans read her short fiction, which I found more accessible than her novels.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
October 13, 2024
Canoës is a collection of stories by Maylis de Kerangal who is an author new to me.
I have to confess that I actually read the first couple of stories without noticing the change. The language simply seemed to flow so seamlessly that it felt like a novel I was reading.
Nevermore was my favourite story with Mustang coming a close second although the final one, Arianespace was also intriguing. All the stories have some connection with canoes even if it only plays a very small part, i.e., a description of the way something looks.
De Kerangal is an award winning writer and it certainly shows in the exquisite prose. All the stories are beautiful but I'm sure other readers will choose different favourites. I'd like to start the book all over again right now.
Thankyou to Netgalley and MacLehose Press for the advance review copy.
I have to confess that I actually read the first couple of stories without noticing the change. The language simply seemed to flow so seamlessly that it felt like a novel I was reading.
Nevermore was my favourite story with Mustang coming a close second although the final one, Arianespace was also intriguing. All the stories have some connection with canoes even if it only plays a very small part, i.e., a description of the way something looks.
De Kerangal is an award winning writer and it certainly shows in the exquisite prose. All the stories are beautiful but I'm sure other readers will choose different favourites. I'd like to start the book all over again right now.
Thankyou to Netgalley and MacLehose Press for the advance review copy.
June 11, 2022
Da una voce all’altra
“se abbasso il volume, percepisco allora la mia stessa voce, furtiva ma incredibilmente netta e mi ritorna e insiste, come se quelle ore da sola in macchina non servissero ad altro: sentirla.”
Canoe si compone di otto racconti, di cui sette brevi che come satelliti ruotano attorno al più lungo, Mustang, (che ritrae magnificamente il Colorado) e che hanno in comune una parola, Canoe, metafora della comunicazione e dello scorrere del tempo, e un filo conduttore, le voci.
Le voci sono le presenze invisibili delle donne che raccontano e di chi le circonda, la strada che stanno facendo, il loro posto in una società ancora troppo "a misura d’uomo "
Nelle pagine Maylis De Kerangal affronta il lutto, la memoria, la ricostruzione, l'esilio, le crepe i riflessi, la capacità di adattamento alla vita.
I racconti sono sottili ritratti di una tante di donne – madre o figlia, amica, partner o sorella – alla ricerca della loro voce, strumento della loro realizzazione e, talvolta, della loro liberazione
Le voci sono come un uccello leggero, sfiorano le pareti le finestre gli scaffali si espandono nello spazio vibrando, come quella di Rose la moglie che non c’è più la cui voce rimane impressa nella segreteria telefonica, come ad annullare il tempo e i confini.
Perché Rose è ancora lì, da cinque anni vive in quel “noi"
“Buongiorno, ci avete raggiunto ma noi non siamo in casa; lasciateci un messaggio e vi richiameremo! ”
Canoe è un libro delicato in cui l’autrice cerca di trovare in ogni singola voce, dimenticata o persa, la vibrazione intima che permette a ciascuno di esprimersi, di esistere o di tenere traccia dell’anima, tra fragilità e forza
Una bellissima scrittura che ha la morbidezza di una musica che accarezza questi spaccati di vita nella loro vulnerabilità
“se abbasso il volume, percepisco allora la mia stessa voce, furtiva ma incredibilmente netta e mi ritorna e insiste, come se quelle ore da sola in macchina non servissero ad altro: sentirla.”
Canoe si compone di otto racconti, di cui sette brevi che come satelliti ruotano attorno al più lungo, Mustang, (che ritrae magnificamente il Colorado) e che hanno in comune una parola, Canoe, metafora della comunicazione e dello scorrere del tempo, e un filo conduttore, le voci.
Le voci sono le presenze invisibili delle donne che raccontano e di chi le circonda, la strada che stanno facendo, il loro posto in una società ancora troppo "a misura d’uomo "
Nelle pagine Maylis De Kerangal affronta il lutto, la memoria, la ricostruzione, l'esilio, le crepe i riflessi, la capacità di adattamento alla vita.
I racconti sono sottili ritratti di una tante di donne – madre o figlia, amica, partner o sorella – alla ricerca della loro voce, strumento della loro realizzazione e, talvolta, della loro liberazione
Le voci sono come un uccello leggero, sfiorano le pareti le finestre gli scaffali si espandono nello spazio vibrando, come quella di Rose la moglie che non c’è più la cui voce rimane impressa nella segreteria telefonica, come ad annullare il tempo e i confini.
Perché Rose è ancora lì, da cinque anni vive in quel “noi"
“Buongiorno, ci avete raggiunto ma noi non siamo in casa; lasciateci un messaggio e vi richiameremo! ”
Canoe è un libro delicato in cui l’autrice cerca di trovare in ogni singola voce, dimenticata o persa, la vibrazione intima che permette a ciascuno di esprimersi, di esistere o di tenere traccia dell’anima, tra fragilità e forza
Una bellissima scrittura che ha la morbidezza di una musica che accarezza questi spaccati di vita nella loro vulnerabilità
October 20, 2024
A wonderful collection of gems, all so different but linked to the title by the mention of a canoe. Quite a nice touch. The longer, almost novella length piece, "Mustang" is especially good, building gradually to an ending that is spectacular, to say the least. The translator's note indicates that de Kerangal began working on this collection at the beginning of the Covid lockdown—I wonder if that explains the focus on eyes and voices that appear in so many stories. She is also a master of spare yet descriptive narratives, a writer who knows just where to turn her narrators' attention as their stories unfold.
A longer review can be found here: https://roughghosts.com/2024/10/20/bo...
A longer review can be found here: https://roughghosts.com/2024/10/20/bo...
September 25, 2023
Canoes by Maylis De Kerangal
A wonderful collection of eight short-stories, translated from the French by Jessica Moore. Thanks to MacLehose Press for the copy.
Every one of these tales has the overriding theme of the human voice. Interestingly, Maylis began writing them just as masks ‘caused mouths to disappear’, as the pandemic began its spread around Europe.
Thus, this is a collection that ‘pans for voices like gold in the river’, of 'living matter that is language', of 'primal screams', 'phonemes catapulting against teeth', of vocal cords and syllables – of the female voice already quieted and veiled further at the hands of a virus. It’s a poignant soundtrack to the human condition.
In the opener entitled ‘Bivouac’, a trip to the dentist toys with the importance of the human jaw and the science of the voice: the only mobile bone in the face, for eating, seeing well, standing upright and for balance - and of course for speech, in a world that strives to render the female voice unheard.
The thematic idea of the voice is carried through in ‘Mountain Stream and Iron Fillings’, again confronting the lengths women have to go to to be heard. A woman meets an old friend, and recognises a change in her voice, almost mimicking that of a male (lower tone), and muses over femininity and the historical 'purpose' of the female voice: '...the voice that's there to soften, to tone down, to charm: to be finished with this masquerade of the feminine voice is good news' - but she admits she rejects this notion of having to change their voices to take action.
The story ‘Mustang’ is the focal point of the collection. It is told by the mother of a family of three after they have recently moved to the US. It’s a tirade against pseudo-America, its plastic ideals and false hope: '...something in this town toyed with real and fake, as though the main street in Golden was rigged, fabricated for the needs of a story...entrance to a fictional world'. This fictional world engulfs her, anonymises her: 'I have become unavailable and solitary'.
It also confronts the strains of family and motherhood: 'You'll see, children can adapt to everything, people kept telling me before we left. You too - you'll adapt'. Yet she isn't adapting well at all. Her son, now old enough to go to school, releases her ‘from the habits that had punctuated her days', but this absence has now left a void in her life: destabilising her rhythm, increasing ‘the impression of a blank day, an emptiness, a silence...'
Again - the theme of the voice gives way as her husband’s speech becomes unrecognisable as he too adapts to the change in culture and lifestyle, his personality 'little by little toppling over into their community' to fit in. It’s a nod to how as humans we change, sometimes subtly, simply to belong. However, the narrator simply cannot belong in a place akin to ‘secret infra-fiction’, forced to play a role she’d already seen a million times on the American TV shows that shes binged. This is a poignant, sobering jaunt into identity and the inordinate tensity of motherhood.
‘Nevermore’ again confronts the science of the voice: 'I pictured the larynx, low in my throat, and my vocal cords, these two pale little folds vibrating against each other at extraordinary speeds as air is breathed into the lungs...'. It’s such a simple thing to talk, to use our voice and emit sound, yet such a composite mechanism working to implement it.
Arguably the most poignant and emotional story (and my favourite) is ‘A Light Bird’, accosting the fact that eventually the voices of those we love will never be heard again. A husband leaves the recording of his wife’s voice on the answering machine after her death: ‘Her voice survived her, in recorded form, indestructible, in the form of a light bird'.
The message: 'Hi, you've reached us, but we're not here - leave us a message and we'll call you back!'.
The wife leaves behind father and daughter. He muses: 'is Rose's absence too present in my life? Does it take up too much space?' His daughter pressures him, accusing him of 'trying to keep the dead alive'. It's a powerful tale of grief and the intolerable pain of losing those we love.
A beautiful collection of stories. De Kerangal’s prose entices; it’s exuberant yet undemanding. Thematically unique – evocative and emotional. Well worth a read.
A wonderful collection of eight short-stories, translated from the French by Jessica Moore. Thanks to MacLehose Press for the copy.
Every one of these tales has the overriding theme of the human voice. Interestingly, Maylis began writing them just as masks ‘caused mouths to disappear’, as the pandemic began its spread around Europe.
Thus, this is a collection that ‘pans for voices like gold in the river’, of 'living matter that is language', of 'primal screams', 'phonemes catapulting against teeth', of vocal cords and syllables – of the female voice already quieted and veiled further at the hands of a virus. It’s a poignant soundtrack to the human condition.
In the opener entitled ‘Bivouac’, a trip to the dentist toys with the importance of the human jaw and the science of the voice: the only mobile bone in the face, for eating, seeing well, standing upright and for balance - and of course for speech, in a world that strives to render the female voice unheard.
The thematic idea of the voice is carried through in ‘Mountain Stream and Iron Fillings’, again confronting the lengths women have to go to to be heard. A woman meets an old friend, and recognises a change in her voice, almost mimicking that of a male (lower tone), and muses over femininity and the historical 'purpose' of the female voice: '...the voice that's there to soften, to tone down, to charm: to be finished with this masquerade of the feminine voice is good news' - but she admits she rejects this notion of having to change their voices to take action.
The story ‘Mustang’ is the focal point of the collection. It is told by the mother of a family of three after they have recently moved to the US. It’s a tirade against pseudo-America, its plastic ideals and false hope: '...something in this town toyed with real and fake, as though the main street in Golden was rigged, fabricated for the needs of a story...entrance to a fictional world'. This fictional world engulfs her, anonymises her: 'I have become unavailable and solitary'.
It also confronts the strains of family and motherhood: 'You'll see, children can adapt to everything, people kept telling me before we left. You too - you'll adapt'. Yet she isn't adapting well at all. Her son, now old enough to go to school, releases her ‘from the habits that had punctuated her days', but this absence has now left a void in her life: destabilising her rhythm, increasing ‘the impression of a blank day, an emptiness, a silence...'
Again - the theme of the voice gives way as her husband’s speech becomes unrecognisable as he too adapts to the change in culture and lifestyle, his personality 'little by little toppling over into their community' to fit in. It’s a nod to how as humans we change, sometimes subtly, simply to belong. However, the narrator simply cannot belong in a place akin to ‘secret infra-fiction’, forced to play a role she’d already seen a million times on the American TV shows that shes binged. This is a poignant, sobering jaunt into identity and the inordinate tensity of motherhood.
‘Nevermore’ again confronts the science of the voice: 'I pictured the larynx, low in my throat, and my vocal cords, these two pale little folds vibrating against each other at extraordinary speeds as air is breathed into the lungs...'. It’s such a simple thing to talk, to use our voice and emit sound, yet such a composite mechanism working to implement it.
Arguably the most poignant and emotional story (and my favourite) is ‘A Light Bird’, accosting the fact that eventually the voices of those we love will never be heard again. A husband leaves the recording of his wife’s voice on the answering machine after her death: ‘Her voice survived her, in recorded form, indestructible, in the form of a light bird'.
The message: 'Hi, you've reached us, but we're not here - leave us a message and we'll call you back!'.
The wife leaves behind father and daughter. He muses: 'is Rose's absence too present in my life? Does it take up too much space?' His daughter pressures him, accusing him of 'trying to keep the dead alive'. It's a powerful tale of grief and the intolerable pain of losing those we love.
A beautiful collection of stories. De Kerangal’s prose entices; it’s exuberant yet undemanding. Thematically unique – evocative and emotional. Well worth a read.
April 12, 2024
I find de Kerangal's writing (or the fabulous translation of her writing) mesmeric. She captures both very small detail and echoes of a bigger past, what we leave behind, so ingeniously. I feel hauled into her narrated space by phrases and thoughts that waft around my head. I could put many meanings on the titular Canoes but for me it felt like individuals being set adrift into slices of their lives, moving slowly and leaving little trace.
The novella of the collection gives us an unnamed narrator and her unnamed son, called "Kid". I have noticed this moniker appearing in literature recently. Whilst I understand this device hands the reader an unnamed child I find it jarring. The rest of the chosen language is so carefully curated that "kid" seems to crash land amidst the writing. Small criticism and maybe this is the intention or there are wider implications in this nascent trend (or nascent to me).
The novella of the collection gives us an unnamed narrator and her unnamed son, called "Kid". I have noticed this moniker appearing in literature recently. Whilst I understand this device hands the reader an unnamed child I find it jarring. The rest of the chosen language is so carefully curated that "kid" seems to crash land amidst the writing. Small criticism and maybe this is the intention or there are wider implications in this nascent trend (or nascent to me).
June 11, 2022
Otto racconti, legati dal filo rosso della parola canoa/e, che dà il titolo alla raccolta, di lunghezza varia (Mustang è il più lungo). In ciascuno di essi si riconosce lo stile delicato e unico di Maylis de Kerangal.
Come scrive l’autrice alla fine, “Nel marzo 2020, quando cominciavo a scrivere sulla voce umana, le bocche sono bruscamente scomparse sotto le mascherine, e le voci si sono trovate filtrate, disturbate, velate: le loro vibrazioni si sono modificate ed è nata una serie di racconti. Tre sono apparsi, durante la scrittura, in una versione diversa: Ariane espace (Gallimard, coll. “Le Chemin”, aprile 2020), Ruscello e limatura di ferro (“Le Monde”, 2 agosto 2020) e Un uccello leggero (“Sensibilités”, n. 8, Anamosa, novembre 2020).”
I racconti sono modellati sulla voce e sul respiro. Basti pensare a “nevermore”, un racconto in cui la protagonista è scelta per una registrazione
“la mia voce, etichettata in seguito come canoa chiara su oceano scuro, fu così collegata al mio numero di cellulare sul taccuino Rhodia di Sylvia mentre Inge mi faceva leggere un articolo sulla riforma della politica agricola comune appena tirato fuori dalla sua borsa. Io ero curiosa di essere registrata da loro, entrare nel loro laboratorio e soprattutto ho pensato che la cosa mi avrebbe permesso di sentire la mia voce, di averne una registrazione – perfino sulla segreteria telefonica, ho preferito affidarmi al servizio vocale interattivo.”
O nel racconto “Un uccello leggero”, in cui la voce della moglie del protagonista morta le sopravvive al corpo, grazie alla registrazione sulla segreteria telefonica
“La sua voce le sopravviveva in forma registrata, indistruttibile, sotto forma di un uccello leggero. Al mattino ho realizzato che non esisteva nessuna altra registrazione della voce di Rose, e l’ho tenuta.”
Riporto l’ultima domanda che Claudia Durastanti fa a Maylis de Kerangal su TuttoLibri di oggi, 11 giugno.
CD: “La meraviglia delle tue voci coincide con una realtà evidente: le canoe non sono barche. Sono mezzi più agili, meno ingombranti ed “epici” per tanti aspetti, meno appesantiti dall’idea di un lungo viaggio e di una destinazione. Andare in canoa è come essere dei flâneurs in acqua, spostandosi tra passagges liquidi. Questo incoraggia una percezione diversa del tempo, della contemplazione. Mi parleresti un po’ di queste canoe e di che rapporto hanno con la tribù di donne che descrivi?”
MdK: «È proprio così: per me la canoa implica un’idea di leggerezza, fluidità e velocità. Associata a una certa grazia. È un’immagine intensamente poetica per me. Costruite con la corteccia delle betulle, le canoe della regione dei Grandi Laghi in Canada hanno permesso ai Nativi americani di viaggiare nei loro territori seguendo le ramificazioni di una complessa rete idrografica, e di trasportare messaggi catturando il flusso delle correnti. Le canoe sono leggere, flessibili e ingegnose. Mi piace l’idea di navigare seguendo i flussi e catturando le correnti. La prima volta che sono andata in Canada sono tornata a casa con una canoa! Le canoe sono come le voci: entità materiali che trasportano parole. Ho immaginato ogni storia e testo in questo libro come una canoa, un contenitore, una specie di cestino per far circolare i beni materiali, uno strumento di passaggio e un movimento, per finire con una veglia impressa sulla superficie dell’acqua.»
Come scrive l’autrice alla fine, “Nel marzo 2020, quando cominciavo a scrivere sulla voce umana, le bocche sono bruscamente scomparse sotto le mascherine, e le voci si sono trovate filtrate, disturbate, velate: le loro vibrazioni si sono modificate ed è nata una serie di racconti. Tre sono apparsi, durante la scrittura, in una versione diversa: Ariane espace (Gallimard, coll. “Le Chemin”, aprile 2020), Ruscello e limatura di ferro (“Le Monde”, 2 agosto 2020) e Un uccello leggero (“Sensibilités”, n. 8, Anamosa, novembre 2020).”
I racconti sono modellati sulla voce e sul respiro. Basti pensare a “nevermore”, un racconto in cui la protagonista è scelta per una registrazione
“la mia voce, etichettata in seguito come canoa chiara su oceano scuro, fu così collegata al mio numero di cellulare sul taccuino Rhodia di Sylvia mentre Inge mi faceva leggere un articolo sulla riforma della politica agricola comune appena tirato fuori dalla sua borsa. Io ero curiosa di essere registrata da loro, entrare nel loro laboratorio e soprattutto ho pensato che la cosa mi avrebbe permesso di sentire la mia voce, di averne una registrazione – perfino sulla segreteria telefonica, ho preferito affidarmi al servizio vocale interattivo.”
O nel racconto “Un uccello leggero”, in cui la voce della moglie del protagonista morta le sopravvive al corpo, grazie alla registrazione sulla segreteria telefonica
“La sua voce le sopravviveva in forma registrata, indistruttibile, sotto forma di un uccello leggero. Al mattino ho realizzato che non esisteva nessuna altra registrazione della voce di Rose, e l’ho tenuta.”
Riporto l’ultima domanda che Claudia Durastanti fa a Maylis de Kerangal su TuttoLibri di oggi, 11 giugno.
CD: “La meraviglia delle tue voci coincide con una realtà evidente: le canoe non sono barche. Sono mezzi più agili, meno ingombranti ed “epici” per tanti aspetti, meno appesantiti dall’idea di un lungo viaggio e di una destinazione. Andare in canoa è come essere dei flâneurs in acqua, spostandosi tra passagges liquidi. Questo incoraggia una percezione diversa del tempo, della contemplazione. Mi parleresti un po’ di queste canoe e di che rapporto hanno con la tribù di donne che descrivi?”
MdK: «È proprio così: per me la canoa implica un’idea di leggerezza, fluidità e velocità. Associata a una certa grazia. È un’immagine intensamente poetica per me. Costruite con la corteccia delle betulle, le canoe della regione dei Grandi Laghi in Canada hanno permesso ai Nativi americani di viaggiare nei loro territori seguendo le ramificazioni di una complessa rete idrografica, e di trasportare messaggi catturando il flusso delle correnti. Le canoe sono leggere, flessibili e ingegnose. Mi piace l’idea di navigare seguendo i flussi e catturando le correnti. La prima volta che sono andata in Canada sono tornata a casa con una canoa! Le canoe sono come le voci: entità materiali che trasportano parole. Ho immaginato ogni storia e testo in questo libro come una canoa, un contenitore, una specie di cestino per far circolare i beni materiali, uno strumento di passaggio e un movimento, per finire con una veglia impressa sulla superficie dell’acqua.»
September 23, 2022
Otto magnetici racconti. In ciascuno di essi appare una canoa, ora in forma di ciondolo, ora in forma di barca, ora in forma di totem. In ciascuno di essi appare una voce, e tutte sono voci di donna.
“Donne di tutte le età, solitarie, sognatrici, volubili, ossessionate o marginali. Sono loro che occupano tutto lo spazio. Soprattutto ho voluto andare in cerca della mia voce tra loro, farla sentire nel modo migliore, trovare un ‘io’ più vicino”. (Maylis de Kerangal)
Il mistero dell’attraversamento e il mistero della fonazione si intrecciano nella costruzione di ogni singolo frammento di storia.
bivacco - Sulla poltrona del dentista. Una storia di vertigini, cefalee, emicranie e mandibole preistoriche.
ruscello e limatura di ferro - Storia di una voce acuta che vuole diventare grave, due amiche che si ritrovano, una radio le lo studio degli scimpanzé.
Mustang - Storia di un trasferimento repentino dalla Francia agli States, Colorado. La narratrice deve imparare a guidare, diventare autonoma, superare un trauma. Ma non sarà così semplice, perché l’America incombe.
nevermore - Storia di una voce che legge Il corvo di Edgar Allan Poe.
un uccello leggero - Storia di una voce registrata nella segreteria telefonica: fantasma o uccello leggero? Trattenerla o liberarla?
after - Storia di un rito di passaggio: l’urlo primitivo è scomposto alla luce di un falò dopo l’esame di maturità.
Ontario - Storia di un giro notturno in barca sul lago Ontario, papaveri rossi e antiche culture amerinde.
Ariane espace- Storia di un avvistamento UFO da parte di un’arzilla signora di 92 anni, l’ultima del villaggio.
“Donne di tutte le età, solitarie, sognatrici, volubili, ossessionate o marginali. Sono loro che occupano tutto lo spazio. Soprattutto ho voluto andare in cerca della mia voce tra loro, farla sentire nel modo migliore, trovare un ‘io’ più vicino”. (Maylis de Kerangal)
Il mistero dell’attraversamento e il mistero della fonazione si intrecciano nella costruzione di ogni singolo frammento di storia.
bivacco - Sulla poltrona del dentista. Una storia di vertigini, cefalee, emicranie e mandibole preistoriche.
ruscello e limatura di ferro - Storia di una voce acuta che vuole diventare grave, due amiche che si ritrovano, una radio le lo studio degli scimpanzé.
Mustang - Storia di un trasferimento repentino dalla Francia agli States, Colorado. La narratrice deve imparare a guidare, diventare autonoma, superare un trauma. Ma non sarà così semplice, perché l’America incombe.
nevermore - Storia di una voce che legge Il corvo di Edgar Allan Poe.
un uccello leggero - Storia di una voce registrata nella segreteria telefonica: fantasma o uccello leggero? Trattenerla o liberarla?
after - Storia di un rito di passaggio: l’urlo primitivo è scomposto alla luce di un falò dopo l’esame di maturità.
Ontario - Storia di un giro notturno in barca sul lago Ontario, papaveri rossi e antiche culture amerinde.
Ariane espace- Storia di un avvistamento UFO da parte di un’arzilla signora di 92 anni, l’ultima del villaggio.
August 13, 2022
J’ai adoré l’écriture de l’autrice! Quelque chose de poétique et familier.
Mais j’ai trouvé le récit confus. J’avais du mal à suivre qui était lae narrateurice, je perdais le fil de ce que l’autrice disait dans des pages sans point. Et j’ai trouvé le lien avec les canoës parfois discutable: on trouve par exemple dans la dernière nouvelle une apparition de l’objet qui semble forcée, comme si elle avait rajouté cet élément manquant dans son histoire pour pouvoir la coller dans le même recueil (« … j’ai le coeur qui bat à tout rompre tandis que je découvre les photos de la comète prises par la sonde Giotto, son noyau éblouissant en forme de cacahuète, son auréole d’écume, sa trace de canoë. » ??)
Mais j’ai trouvé le récit confus. J’avais du mal à suivre qui était lae narrateurice, je perdais le fil de ce que l’autrice disait dans des pages sans point. Et j’ai trouvé le lien avec les canoës parfois discutable: on trouve par exemple dans la dernière nouvelle une apparition de l’objet qui semble forcée, comme si elle avait rajouté cet élément manquant dans son histoire pour pouvoir la coller dans le même recueil (« … j’ai le coeur qui bat à tout rompre tandis que je découvre les photos de la comète prises par la sonde Giotto, son noyau éblouissant en forme de cacahuète, son auréole d’écume, sa trace de canoë. » ??)
March 13, 2025
A collection of very short stories and a central novella that explore the human voice, its complexities, its absence, its power.
In one, a woman listens as her friend describes the way she has changed her voice, attempting to lower its frequency to give her a better shot at having a career in radio. In another, a daughter begs her father to delete the voicemail of her dead mother, a disembodied voice that has continued to bring him comfort in the five years since her death, while only increasing her grief. And in another, a group of graduates celebrate their exam results by partying and unleashing primal screams into the void, a use of voice that is at odds with the narrator’s brother who stutters and stumbles his way through his toast of congratulations to her.
The novella shows a French family of three that move to Golden, Colorado temporarily for the man’s schooling in the mid 90s. The woman feels immediately at odds with her surroundings and is perturbed by the way her partner’s voice is changing, influenced by “those of the Midwest” (side note to add that Golden, CO is not the Midwest). The woman’s observations and experiences in this foreign U.S. suburb feel clichéd at times. She associates the basement of her apartment with “the hundreds of millions of firearms that circulated in this country, with serial killers and mass shootings, the guy who draws his automatic rifle in the doorway of the McDonald’s and guns down twenty people before blowing his own brains out”. And this after her gloomy observations on suburban sprawl, the lack of public transportation, a child holding a beer can and flipping her off in a trailer park, ruminations on the treatment of the Natives, and her own encounter with a gun-wielding American. It was all a bit much to squeeze into a novella—and maybe I’d get it if they had gone to middle of nowhere in the actual Midwest, or maybe Texas, but your first experience in the U.S. is the magical Rocky Mountains and you see nothing but doom and gloom?! (ok ok we find out there is an external reason for her sadness so I’m probably not being fair and also I’m biased but I digress).
Moore’s translation utilizes an interesting mix of vocabulary. Alveolar and slalom (a nod to the title?) are used more than once, an object a character sits on is described as being under their “ischium”. Speaking of the title, a canoe is referenced at least once in each story, though often its inclusion is arbitrary and insignificant. The stories are already successfully linked thematically, leaving the shoehorned attempts to fit “canoe” in a curious decision.
As happens too often, I fear my review sounds more negative than my reading experience truly was. These are mostly well-crafted stories that, due to the deep thematic links, feel stronger as a whole collection than they might if read in isolation. De Kerangal is an immensely skilled writer and I’m eager to dig deeper into her backlist.
In one, a woman listens as her friend describes the way she has changed her voice, attempting to lower its frequency to give her a better shot at having a career in radio. In another, a daughter begs her father to delete the voicemail of her dead mother, a disembodied voice that has continued to bring him comfort in the five years since her death, while only increasing her grief. And in another, a group of graduates celebrate their exam results by partying and unleashing primal screams into the void, a use of voice that is at odds with the narrator’s brother who stutters and stumbles his way through his toast of congratulations to her.
The novella shows a French family of three that move to Golden, Colorado temporarily for the man’s schooling in the mid 90s. The woman feels immediately at odds with her surroundings and is perturbed by the way her partner’s voice is changing, influenced by “those of the Midwest” (side note to add that Golden, CO is not the Midwest). The woman’s observations and experiences in this foreign U.S. suburb feel clichéd at times. She associates the basement of her apartment with “the hundreds of millions of firearms that circulated in this country, with serial killers and mass shootings, the guy who draws his automatic rifle in the doorway of the McDonald’s and guns down twenty people before blowing his own brains out”. And this after her gloomy observations on suburban sprawl, the lack of public transportation, a child holding a beer can and flipping her off in a trailer park, ruminations on the treatment of the Natives, and her own encounter with a gun-wielding American. It was all a bit much to squeeze into a novella—and maybe I’d get it if they had gone to middle of nowhere in the actual Midwest, or maybe Texas, but your first experience in the U.S. is the magical Rocky Mountains and you see nothing but doom and gloom?! (ok ok we find out there is an external reason for her sadness so I’m probably not being fair and also I’m biased but I digress).
Moore’s translation utilizes an interesting mix of vocabulary. Alveolar and slalom (a nod to the title?) are used more than once, an object a character sits on is described as being under their “ischium”. Speaking of the title, a canoe is referenced at least once in each story, though often its inclusion is arbitrary and insignificant. The stories are already successfully linked thematically, leaving the shoehorned attempts to fit “canoe” in a curious decision.
As happens too often, I fear my review sounds more negative than my reading experience truly was. These are mostly well-crafted stories that, due to the deep thematic links, feel stronger as a whole collection than they might if read in isolation. De Kerangal is an immensely skilled writer and I’m eager to dig deeper into her backlist.
May 14, 2024
Translated from the French (so noticeably French, too); bought in a nice bookshop in Berlin last November, read mostly in Malmö during my trip there for the Eurovision Song Contest – this book is my own little Eurovision capsule.
When I saw it in the bookshop it was the cover and the writing on the first page that prompted me to buy it – under the illusion that this was a novel.
However, this was in fact a book of short stories and as per usual with those, this also consisted of hits and misses.
All in all I was slightly underwhelmed by Kanus and also thought the reappearing of a symbolic canoe in most (maybe all; might have missed it in some) stories a bit too gimmicky and heavy-handed.
I did like the French vibes though, a good reminder to seek out more French fiction again.
When I saw it in the bookshop it was the cover and the writing on the first page that prompted me to buy it – under the illusion that this was a novel.
However, this was in fact a book of short stories and as per usual with those, this also consisted of hits and misses.
All in all I was slightly underwhelmed by Kanus and also thought the reappearing of a symbolic canoe in most (maybe all; might have missed it in some) stories a bit too gimmicky and heavy-handed.
I did like the French vibes though, a good reminder to seek out more French fiction again.
February 3, 2025
Canoës
Recueil de nouvelles, lecture initiée des sa sortie, Canoës m'avait laisse en proie au dilemme, ce que j'avais lu comme toujours chez Maylis de Kerangal m'avait causé une émotion intense, sans trouver une cohérence à ce que je venais de lire.
J'avais bien capte que ces nouvelles étaient centrées sur la thématique de la voix, l'un des cinq sens, l'organe vocale, ce qui permet de s'exprimer.
Maylis de Kerangal explore comme elle sait si bien le faire la thématique de la voix d'une manière très technique, sans jamais oublier d'y associer l'humain, pourtant j'ai referme le recueil non pas déçue, mais déboussolée.
Et bien je me trompais Canoës avait laisse son empreinte vocale, et petit à petit certains détails de ces histoires sont remontés à la surface laissant leur sillage dans mon esprit.
Mustang est une révélation il existe un contexte très décalé dans cette histoire, ou comment le quotidien peut devenir sur- réaliste, loufoque,caucasse lorsque fraîchement débarquee dans le Colorado la narratrice doit se mettre au diapason d'un environnement qui ne lui est pas hostile mais totalement étranger comme un éveil sensoriel et sensible: rencontrer une minéralogiste "Mad About Stone", prendre des leçons de conduite avec Martina et son gun, rouler au volant d'une américaine en sachant à peine conduire.
Oiseau léger est une autre nouvelles bouleversante, comme seule l'auteure sait les raconter comment ne pas être touchée par l'histoire de cet homme qui ne peut effacer la voix de son épouse sur un répondeur, comme s'il écoutait le chant d'un oiseau quotidien.
Ou encore Nevermore, seance d'enregistrement du récit Le Corbeau dans le studio de deux soeurs, collectionneuse de sons en tout genre, qui se greffe complètement à la nouvelle d' Edgar Allan Poe.
Il n'est jamais simple de traduire ce qu'une lecture laisse comme empreinte parfois c'est immédiat, parfois à posteriori en relisant...
Pourtant certaines thématiques reviennent avec Maylis de Kerangal l'approche sensorielle, le monde minéral, le rapport aux autres, les invisibles ou hors normes , son mode d'écriture incite à une lecture plus introspective, c'est comme cela que j'ai perçu cette lecture.
Recueil de nouvelles, lecture initiée des sa sortie, Canoës m'avait laisse en proie au dilemme, ce que j'avais lu comme toujours chez Maylis de Kerangal m'avait causé une émotion intense, sans trouver une cohérence à ce que je venais de lire.
J'avais bien capte que ces nouvelles étaient centrées sur la thématique de la voix, l'un des cinq sens, l'organe vocale, ce qui permet de s'exprimer.
Maylis de Kerangal explore comme elle sait si bien le faire la thématique de la voix d'une manière très technique, sans jamais oublier d'y associer l'humain, pourtant j'ai referme le recueil non pas déçue, mais déboussolée.
Et bien je me trompais Canoës avait laisse son empreinte vocale, et petit à petit certains détails de ces histoires sont remontés à la surface laissant leur sillage dans mon esprit.
Mustang est une révélation il existe un contexte très décalé dans cette histoire, ou comment le quotidien peut devenir sur- réaliste, loufoque,caucasse lorsque fraîchement débarquee dans le Colorado la narratrice doit se mettre au diapason d'un environnement qui ne lui est pas hostile mais totalement étranger comme un éveil sensoriel et sensible: rencontrer une minéralogiste "Mad About Stone", prendre des leçons de conduite avec Martina et son gun, rouler au volant d'une américaine en sachant à peine conduire.
Oiseau léger est une autre nouvelles bouleversante, comme seule l'auteure sait les raconter comment ne pas être touchée par l'histoire de cet homme qui ne peut effacer la voix de son épouse sur un répondeur, comme s'il écoutait le chant d'un oiseau quotidien.
Ou encore Nevermore, seance d'enregistrement du récit Le Corbeau dans le studio de deux soeurs, collectionneuse de sons en tout genre, qui se greffe complètement à la nouvelle d' Edgar Allan Poe.
Il n'est jamais simple de traduire ce qu'une lecture laisse comme empreinte parfois c'est immédiat, parfois à posteriori en relisant...
Pourtant certaines thématiques reviennent avec Maylis de Kerangal l'approche sensorielle, le monde minéral, le rapport aux autres, les invisibles ou hors normes , son mode d'écriture incite à une lecture plus introspective, c'est comme cela que j'ai perçu cette lecture.
October 15, 2024
Canoes
By Maylis de Kerangal
Translated from the French by Jessica Moore
A slim collection of short stories, bookending a novella, they are unrelated in narrative, but share a theme of voice and sound. Each story contains the word "canoe", a device that makes me think of a charm bracelet.
De Kerangal's writing is highly distinctive. Her vocabulary can be challenging, throwing out words I have never used myself and may only have come across once before, sometimes never, but she tends to embed them in lists that layer descriptions, each word refining the definition of the particular thing she is getting at, until, like tuning into a frequency, you realise just what she means.
I care more for some of these stories than others. They are rather like a collection of images, of sensations, like the memory of experiences, so some resonated strongly with me, like the daughter imploring her father to erase the recorded voice of her dead mother from their answering machine. I appreciate but wasn't moved particularly by Bivouac, Nevermore and Ontario, but I honestly could read this author's work anytime regardless of the storyline, simply because her words and phrasing are so interesting to me. In the way that she converts scientific and mechanical processes into a literary experience in The Heart, here she finds the perfect words to explore the textures and shapes of sound and silence, their unique signifiers, and the sensorial experience that creates.
This collection, and the creative style of this author might not be for every reader, but in the right hands this is compelling and thought provoking, emotional and reflective.
English version publication date: 29th October 2024
Thanks to #NetGalley and the publisher for providing an ARC for review purposes.
By Maylis de Kerangal
Translated from the French by Jessica Moore
A slim collection of short stories, bookending a novella, they are unrelated in narrative, but share a theme of voice and sound. Each story contains the word "canoe", a device that makes me think of a charm bracelet.
De Kerangal's writing is highly distinctive. Her vocabulary can be challenging, throwing out words I have never used myself and may only have come across once before, sometimes never, but she tends to embed them in lists that layer descriptions, each word refining the definition of the particular thing she is getting at, until, like tuning into a frequency, you realise just what she means.
I care more for some of these stories than others. They are rather like a collection of images, of sensations, like the memory of experiences, so some resonated strongly with me, like the daughter imploring her father to erase the recorded voice of her dead mother from their answering machine. I appreciate but wasn't moved particularly by Bivouac, Nevermore and Ontario, but I honestly could read this author's work anytime regardless of the storyline, simply because her words and phrasing are so interesting to me. In the way that she converts scientific and mechanical processes into a literary experience in The Heart, here she finds the perfect words to explore the textures and shapes of sound and silence, their unique signifiers, and the sensorial experience that creates.
This collection, and the creative style of this author might not be for every reader, but in the right hands this is compelling and thought provoking, emotional and reflective.
English version publication date: 29th October 2024
Thanks to #NetGalley and the publisher for providing an ARC for review purposes.
January 19, 2025
3.5 : toujours une aussi belle plume qui me pose beaucoup question mais toutes les nouvelles n’ont pas été captivantes
June 25, 2025
Magnifique livre de mon autrice préférée. Ce recueil de 8 nouvelles mêlent différents thèmes (le temps, la voix…) dans des récits portés par des femmes et par leur voix.
Coup de cœur personnel pour “Un oiseau léger” et pour “Mustang”.
Coup de cœur personnel pour “Un oiseau léger” et pour “Mustang”.
July 31, 2025
Jack DEMANDS a review. None of the stories really grabbed me. I don’t blame the translation as I think the language was the most interesting part of the whole book. The longest story, Mustang, felt to me like a critique of American life, but from a fairly surface level perspective. Yeah, there are a lot of guns and not a lot of public transportation.
October 13, 2025
Es besteht aus mehreren unterschiedlich langen Kurzgeschichten, die allesamt aus der Ich-Perspektive erzählt werden, denen die Erwähnung des Wortes Kanu und eine Fixierung auf Stimmen gemeinsam ist. Insbesondere Veränderungen einer für den jeweiligen Erzähler emotional besonders wichtiger einzigartiger Stimmen spielen in mehreren Kurzgeschichten eine Rolle.
Der Stil wird vor allem durch lange Sätze voller Aufzählungen und Aneinanderreihungen geprägt, bei denen die Worte, Beschreibungen und Vergleiche so überquellend erscheinen, dass man fast von Verschwendung oder Überfluss sprechen kann. Dennoch wirken die Sätze leichtfüßig und nicht überladen. Als Leser muss man sich jedoch daran gewöhnen, dass Sätze nicht immer mit einem Punkt, sondern auch durch ein Komma beendet werden und direkte Rede inmitten mehrerer, nur durch Kommata getrennter Hauptsätze anzutreffen ist.
Als Freund von Sätzen, die nicht unnötig verkürzt werden, habe ich viel Sympathie für diesen Schreibstil. Jedoch wirkt er durch das Aneinanderreihen von Wörtern, Wortgruppen und Sätzen hektisch, ein Vorleser wüsste nicht, wo er eine Atempause einlegen sollte, so sehr gehen die Sätze ineinander über und verschmelzen miteinander, die Kommata führen zu keiner Pause, schon beginnt der nächste Satz, der Mangel an Konjunktionen lässt die Sätze wie auf der Flucht wirken, der Erzähler wirkt dadurch gehetzt und unstrukturiert, der Leser muss sich bemühen, mitzukommen und fühlt sich mitten im Geschehen.
Mitten im Geschehen fühlt sich der Leser nicht nur durch den Schreibstil, sondern auch durch die gewählte Form der Kurzgeschichten. Jede Geschichte beginnt unvermittelt und gerade wenn man sich an die Erzählperspektive und den Erzähler gewöhnt hat, ist die Geschichte schon vorbei und die nächste beginnt. Immer wieder begegnet einem zwar das Wort Kanu in jedem erdenklichen Zusammenhang und es gibt wiederkehrende Topoi (der Kilometer im Schwimmbad, die Besinnung auf die Urzeit oder eine Urkraft, das Suchen einer Radiofrequenz, die Fremdheit einer ehemals vertrauten Stimme), jedoch bleiben die Geschichten für sich und voneinander getrennt. Es ist vergleichbar mit einem kurzen Besuch einer Galerie, man betrachtet die Bilder mal nur oberflächlich, mal ganz ausführlich, doch man geht immer schnell weiter und stellt sich vor das nächste Bild.
Und so ist die Lektüre recht schnell beendet, man ist danach derselbe wie davor, außer ein paar Eindrücken und der flüchten Bekanntschaft mit den Erzählern bleibt nichts zurück. Ein netter Zeitvertreib für ereignislose Stunden, aber auch nicht mehr.
2,5 Sterne
Der Stil wird vor allem durch lange Sätze voller Aufzählungen und Aneinanderreihungen geprägt, bei denen die Worte, Beschreibungen und Vergleiche so überquellend erscheinen, dass man fast von Verschwendung oder Überfluss sprechen kann. Dennoch wirken die Sätze leichtfüßig und nicht überladen. Als Leser muss man sich jedoch daran gewöhnen, dass Sätze nicht immer mit einem Punkt, sondern auch durch ein Komma beendet werden und direkte Rede inmitten mehrerer, nur durch Kommata getrennter Hauptsätze anzutreffen ist.
Als Freund von Sätzen, die nicht unnötig verkürzt werden, habe ich viel Sympathie für diesen Schreibstil. Jedoch wirkt er durch das Aneinanderreihen von Wörtern, Wortgruppen und Sätzen hektisch, ein Vorleser wüsste nicht, wo er eine Atempause einlegen sollte, so sehr gehen die Sätze ineinander über und verschmelzen miteinander, die Kommata führen zu keiner Pause, schon beginnt der nächste Satz, der Mangel an Konjunktionen lässt die Sätze wie auf der Flucht wirken, der Erzähler wirkt dadurch gehetzt und unstrukturiert, der Leser muss sich bemühen, mitzukommen und fühlt sich mitten im Geschehen.
Mitten im Geschehen fühlt sich der Leser nicht nur durch den Schreibstil, sondern auch durch die gewählte Form der Kurzgeschichten. Jede Geschichte beginnt unvermittelt und gerade wenn man sich an die Erzählperspektive und den Erzähler gewöhnt hat, ist die Geschichte schon vorbei und die nächste beginnt. Immer wieder begegnet einem zwar das Wort Kanu in jedem erdenklichen Zusammenhang und es gibt wiederkehrende Topoi (der Kilometer im Schwimmbad, die Besinnung auf die Urzeit oder eine Urkraft, das Suchen einer Radiofrequenz, die Fremdheit einer ehemals vertrauten Stimme), jedoch bleiben die Geschichten für sich und voneinander getrennt. Es ist vergleichbar mit einem kurzen Besuch einer Galerie, man betrachtet die Bilder mal nur oberflächlich, mal ganz ausführlich, doch man geht immer schnell weiter und stellt sich vor das nächste Bild.
Und so ist die Lektüre recht schnell beendet, man ist danach derselbe wie davor, außer ein paar Eindrücken und der flüchten Bekanntschaft mit den Erzählern bleibt nichts zurück. Ein netter Zeitvertreib für ereignislose Stunden, aber auch nicht mehr.
2,5 Sterne
April 22, 2024
«Me masajeé el cuello, y para relajarme pensé en el proceso que convirtió el aliento en voz articulada, hace miles de años: visualicé la laringe baja en mi garganta y mis cuerdas vocales, esos dos plieguecillos vibrando el uno contra el otro a toda velocidad al paso del aire insuflado desde los pulmones, imaginé los alveolos, los bronquios, la tráquea, luego la bóveda palatina, los dientes, los labios, y descompuse la transformación de esas vibraciones en una voz humana, esa voz de la que el micro restituye ahora la menor oclusión, la menor fibrilación, la menor pelusilla, esa voz que pronuncia en este instante».
Para que después digan que la fonética no es bonita ¡y literaria!
Para que después digan que la fonética no es bonita ¡y literaria!
July 23, 2021
Ce recueil de nouvelles sur le thème de la voix m’a pour ainsi dire plongée dans une atmosphère et je me suis laissée bercer par ces histoires mais sans vraiment être totalement emportée...dommage ! J’ai retrouvé avec plaisir le style ciselé et mélodieux de Maylis de Kerangal.
Je retiens cependant une émotion toute particulière pour la nouvelle "Un oiseau léger". Que faire de l'enregistrement d'une voix de la femme qui n'est plus sur le répondeur familial ? La garder pour retrouver un instant la joie d'une présence ou l'effacer pour ne plus souffrir de l'entendre à nouveau ? Un récit très émouvant, qui dit beaucoup de la force des voix et des souvenirs sonores...
J'ai aussi aimé Mustang, la plus longue nouvelle.
Je retiens cependant une émotion toute particulière pour la nouvelle "Un oiseau léger". Que faire de l'enregistrement d'une voix de la femme qui n'est plus sur le répondeur familial ? La garder pour retrouver un instant la joie d'une présence ou l'effacer pour ne plus souffrir de l'entendre à nouveau ? Un récit très émouvant, qui dit beaucoup de la force des voix et des souvenirs sonores...
J'ai aussi aimé Mustang, la plus longue nouvelle.
August 28, 2024
A wonderful collection of stories and a novella. Each one follows a different woman with a particular focus on her interior life. I was the most drawn to the novella - following a Parisian woman who has just moved to Colorado with her family. It is really incredible the way De Kerangal writes details about the landscape and scenery while also writing so aptly about interiority.
July 31, 2022
In questo contesto saturo fino alla molestia di stimolazioni visive, l'autrice riporta la nostra attenzione sulla voce e intorno a essa dipana storie intense con una scrittura piacevole, che scivola proprio come una canoa su un corso d'acqua.
Una raccolta di racconti per rallentare e magari ascoltarsi.
Una raccolta di racconti per rallentare e magari ascoltarsi.
February 25, 2025
A quick translated collection. Sometimes I just pick up random books from the library because they are interestingly shaped (this one was a square!).
Slow, detailed writing with themes of death and searching
Slow, detailed writing with themes of death and searching
March 16, 2025
Really lovely little collection of mostly very short stories that feature a canoe. But what's the canoe, really? It feels like the connection is voice and language and sounds and the canoe is the visual representation of that. I'm glad i picked this one up.
May 8, 2025
I didn't like this book as much as Eastbound, but I still love her writing and this made me want to read more by her. She just does a really amazing job at making you feel like you are the character who is narrating with very little time and few words.
July 22, 2025
I have never cared for short stories but I picked this one up on a whim. To be completely honest, I like the size of it. Ended up not hating it. There was one longer story that took place in Colorado. I’m from CO so it was fun to hear about places that I knew. It was an easy, and enjoyable read.
January 4, 2025
The first two stories are promising. Once I hit the novella, I mostly lost interest and tapped out. Still, I enjoyed bits of the writing and the imagery it evokes.
Favorites:
"Mountain Stream and Iron Filings"
"A Light Bird"
Favorites:
"Mountain Stream and Iron Filings"
"A Light Bird"
November 30, 2024
Read the English version as translated by Jessica Moore.
I loved this collection of stories. “A Light Bird” was particularly poignant to me.
I loved this collection of stories. “A Light Bird” was particularly poignant to me.
December 2, 2024
I love her. Googled how to pronounce Maylis so I can talk to everyone about her.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 108 reviews