The Diary of A.O. Barnabooth

by Valery Larbaud

It is just before the first world war, and at 23 Archibaldo Olson Barnabooth is the wealthiest man in the world. Scion of a South American branch of European aristocracy, Barnabooth sets off on a solo Grand Tour through the capitals of Europe, hoping to unravel the mystery that is himself. Toward that ever elusive goal he records this diary (properly intended for publication), capturing brash and introspective opinions of eros pursued, lost and won; the embarrassment of riches; the pleasures of travel; the glories and shortcomings of Europes grand hotels and railroads and theaters. Into the realm of the fabulous Barnabooths adventures intrude with wit and style and a sad there is something utterly endearing and equally ridiculous about this passionate A.O. Barnabooth, quintessential idealist of a then newly born 20th centurythe creation of one of Frances great literary geniuses now recovered in this era.

Genres: France, Fiction, French Literature, Novels

317 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1913

About the author

He was born in Vichy, Allier, the only child of a pharmacist. His father died when he was 8, and he was brought up by his mother and aunt. His father had been owner of the Vichy Saint-Yorre mineral water springs, and the family fortune assured him an easy life. He travelled Europe in style. On luxury liners and the Orient Express he carried off the dandy role, with spa visits to nurse fragile health.
Poèmes par un riche amateur, published in 1908, received Octave Mirbeau's vote for Prix Goncourt. Three years later, his novel Fermina Márquez, inspired by his days as a boarder at Sainte-Barbe-des-Champs at Fontenay-aux-Roses, had some Prix Goncourt votes in 1911.
He spoke six languages including English, Italian and Spanish. In France he helped translate and popularise Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Walt Whitman, Samuel Butler, and James Joyce, whose Ulysses was translated by Auguste Morel (1924-1929) under Larbaud's supervision.
At home in Vichy, he saw as friends Charles-Louis Philippe, André Gide, Léon-Paul Fargue and Jean Aubry, his future biographer. An attack of hemiplegia and aphasia in 1935 left him paralysed. Having spent his fortune, he had to sell his property and 15,000 book library. Despite his illness, he continued to receive many honorary titles, and in 1952 he was awarded the Prix National des Lettres.
The Prix Littéraire Valery Larbaud was created in 1957 by L'Association Internationale des Amis de Valery Larbaud, a group created to promote the author's work. Past winners of this yearly award include J.M.G. Le Clézio, Jacques Réda, Emmanuel Carrère, and Jean Rolin.
Georges Perec's character Bartlebooth is a cross between Melville's Bartleby and Larbaud's Barnabooth.

Reviews

[MJ Nicholls · Rating 3 out of 5]

The ponderous travails of Archibald O. Barnabooth, one of the alter egos of Valery Larbaud take place mainly in Florence, eventually migrating to Russia and Denmark as the titular diarist laments the life of endless luxury and riches with which he has been burdened. His naïve affairs with prostitutes and run-ins with other lesser females are chronicled, along with his friend P.’s equally semi-interesting peripatetic romps. The writing is peppered with formidable wit, hefty observational ruminations, and exquisite travelogue of early 20th century Europe, before the onsigh of bombtime. The thoughts and movements of very wealthy people, whose attitudes to the poor verge on aristocratic contempt, is seriously unappealing . . . somehow the sterling prose and bristling colloquies keep the reader from sneering their noses off. This musty translation from Gilbert Canaan circa 1924 is the only available, long in need of an update.

[Jeroen Vandenbossche · Rating 3 out of 5]

Invitation au voyage (en train)

Barnabooth a écrit un journal,
Cahier d'un milliardaire à l'âme vagabonde,
Où le luxe n'est plus qu'un décor de cristal
Face au vertige immense et triste de ce monde.

Dans le velours des trains et l'argent des palaces,
Il cherche sous l'Europe un sens à son ennui,
Laissant couler le temps, effaçant chaque trace,
Dans une nostalgie qui le suit dans la nuit.

Dis à mon pote Ulysse qu'il doit ouvrir ce livre,
Lui qui connaît les mers et les lointains périples ;
Il aimera ce texte où l'on apprend à vivre,
En dénouant du cœur les nœuds les plus multiples

[em]

ctu moi qui est encore trop dans mon zeitgeist ou est-ce que barnabooth est vrm gay

[Davyd · Rating 4 out of 5]

What elevated this book for me was the beautiful, vivid compression of place after place into words, as into suitcases. And the narrator himself, the rich self-provocateur whom no one expected to exist as anything more than a sketch, got a very enjoyable Proust-lite arc as the diary progressed.

[Stephaan Margodt · Rating 4 out of 5]

Inspiratiebron voor Modiano...

[Benjamin Martel · Rating 3 out of 5]

i love when le protagoniste est complètement misérable

[Federico Fruhbeck · Rating 5 out of 5]

A very sweet, albeit critical “journal” of Larbaud’s Barnabooth (which went to inspire Perec’s Bartlebooth in Vie Mode d’Emploi), where a careless rich single traveller finds himself in a series of adventures and misadventures in his travels to Italy. It has a certain flavour of critique, but notwithstanding treats the character of Barnabooth with some justice and one cannot sometimes just identify oneself with him and wish to be someone as careless as him, without talent (yes), but with a certain joie de vivre. It is, together with Fermina Marquez, Larbaud’s masterpiece, and probably the most carefully crafted. A real treat.