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Sueurs froides
L'histoire n'est pas banale. Flavières, pourtant, preuves à l'appui, ne pourra que confirmer plus tard toutes les craintes de son ami Gévigne au sujet de sa jeune épouse Madeleine. Ses absences, ses mystères, cette étrange mélancolie lui faisant regarder l'eau durant des heures… Pas d'amants, pas de simulation, aucune maladie. Peut-être une arrière-grand-mère morte noyée à 25 ans et qui souffrait des mêmes maux… Flavières ne quitte plus Madeleine des yeux. Son ami le lui a demandé. Il s'inquiète trop. Très vite, ils seront deux à ne plus fermer l'œil. Madeleine ne peut pas mourir. Elle ne le doit pas. Flavières ne le supporterait pas...
192 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1954
About the author
Boileau-Narcejac
157 books81 followersPierre Boileau and Pierre Ayraud (aka Thomas Narcejac) were French authors who specialized in police stories. They collaborated as "Boileau-Narcejac," with plots from Boileau. Narcejac provided most of the atmosphere and characterisations in each novel.
Each of them were highly successful alone before beginning their work together. The Prix du Roman d'Aventures, one of the most important literary awards in France, is given each year to the author of the best example of detective fiction in the world. Boileau won it in 1938 for Le Repos de Bacchus . Narcejac received it for La Mort est du Voyage in 1948. They met at the 1948 awards dinner.
While most of their works stand alone, they also wrote the "Sans Atout" series for young readers.
Two of their novels, Celle qui n'était plus and D'entre les morts , were adapted into films (respectively, Les Diaboliques and Vertigo)
Each of them were highly successful alone before beginning their work together. The Prix du Roman d'Aventures, one of the most important literary awards in France, is given each year to the author of the best example of detective fiction in the world. Boileau won it in 1938 for Le Repos de Bacchus . Narcejac received it for La Mort est du Voyage in 1948. They met at the 1948 awards dinner.
While most of their works stand alone, they also wrote the "Sans Atout" series for young readers.
Two of their novels, Celle qui n'était plus and D'entre les morts , were adapted into films (respectively, Les Diaboliques and Vertigo)
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April 4, 2026
Originally published in 1954 under the title D'entre les morts by French author team Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac and made famous by Alfred Hitchcock in his 1958 classic film adaptation, Vertigo counts as one of the greatest psychological thrillers, ever.
Boileau-Narcejac are known for their ingenious plots, focus on settings, mounting psychological suspense - and, most notably, creating atmospheres and moods drenched in disorientation and fear, all elements abundantly present in Vertigo.
Vertigo, an absolutely first-rate novel overshadowed by the Hitchcock film, a novel I would strongly encourage lovers of exceptional fiction to read. The tale begins thusly: wealthy industrialist Paul Gèvigne arrives at the law office of Roger Flavières, a friend he knew intimately fifteen years ago in college and hasn't seen since, and asks for a highly unusual favor: keep an eye on his wife Madeleine since she has been acting rather queerly. Initially hesitant, Flavières eventually agrees and starts to shadow Madeleine.
Since there are significant differences between the Hitchcock film and this Boileau-Narcejac masterpiece, I will avoid spoilers by jumping to a highlight reel:
Barrister's Backstory – Flavières became a lawyer for a very specific reason. As he recounts to Gèvigne, his father spent a career as a divisional inspector and insisted that he, his son, follow his footsteps and join the police to become a detective. Flavières obeyed his father and did just that. Unfortunately, a tragedy occurred that still haunts him: he and his assistant, a fine chap by the name of Leriche, were chasing a criminal who took refuge up on a steep roof. Since he, Flavières, has always had a dread of heights, he had Leriche climb up and do the collaring. Leriche slipped and fell to his death. This incident compelled Flavières to leave the police and, even to this day, Flavières can hear Leriche's scream as he tumbled to the street below. Gèvigne tells Flavières he remembers his never having a head for heights, a fact taking on great significance as the story unfolds - and the prime reason for the novel's title: Vertigo.
Alarming Likeness - As Gèvigne explains to Flavières, although Madeleine never has been attracted to anything relating to the occult, she does have, or so it appears, an eerie connection to her great-grandmother Pauline Lagerlac, a strange woman who committed suicide at age of twenty-five, the current age of Madeleine (gulp!). And, in the course of his trailing Madeleine, at one critical juncture, Madeleine actually speaks of her great-grandmother, suggesting she has Pauline Lagerlac's memories and is living not her own life but the life of Pauline Lagerlac! Psychological suspense and disorientation, anyone? Boileau-Narcejac prove themselves masters of noir by the inclusion of this baffling mental phenomenon with echoes of things like past-life regression and spirit possession.
The Power of Eros - Flavières repeatedly denies he's in love with Madeleine along with going even further - judging himself incapable of love. He reflects, “Passion, real passion, doesn't develop in a couple of weeks.” And he recalls reproaching his legal clients who blubbered about love. “Go on. You make me laugh with that stuff about love. Love, indeed! A childish dream! Very pretty, no doubt, and exquisitely pure, but unrealistic.” Oh, Flavières, you'll learn the inflamed heart is not to be scoffed at. And when someone attempts to suppress their emotions, those powerful feelings can quickly twist and darken into something resembling...obsession. How twisted? How dark? While waiting for Madeleine, Flavières "realized the extent to which he was in her clutches. She absorbed literally all his strength. He was a blood-donor. No, that wasn't the word. A soul-donor."
Distant Rumblings – France is experiencing drama aplenty when Flavières follows Madeleine through Paris – the Germans have invaded to the north. Parisians discuss the war, read headlines about the war, listen to radio reports on the war. Meanwhile, Flavières experiences mixed, complex emotions relating to the war (he himself wasn't called up for military service due to a medical issue). Keep in mind the novel published in 1954 when French readers had their own vivid memories revolving around the German invasion.
Colossal Twist - The concluding chapter serves as one of the most dramatic, jaw-dropping twists any reader will encounter. I myself was stunned. In point of fact, when I read the novel a second time, it was as if I was reading a different novel. Immediately all of Gèvigne's words, his reactions, his moods, his way of being could be seen from an entirely dissimilar angle. Same thing goes for Madeleine. Am I exaggerating? To find out, read Vertigo for yourself.
French authors Pierre Boileau (1906-1989) and Thomas Narcejac (1908-1998) - Boileau created the plots and Narcejac the atmosphere and characterization. Together they collaborated on over fifty thrillers. Unfortunately, other than Vertigo, I could only locate three novels currently available in English: She Who Was No More, Choice Cuts and The Evil Eye. I plan to post a review for each one.
January 26, 2024
a classic french-translated noir thriller about infatuation and obsession which turns the emotional screws on you an inch at a time. might be better than the movie tbh, which i already appreciate. the writing here just stands out in a way that’s admirable; the prose pitch-perfectly captures the unraveling thoughts of the main character as he descends from an amiable but cowardly guy to a desperate and angry madman.
this hypnotic yarn will likely make you recall feelings of bitterness and anger which we all experience after a break up, but the writers subvert it all into a delicious psychological thriller that’s actually quite amusing in how close it hits home when it comes to the human condition.
oh, and simon vance gives one of his best and most passionate performances on the audiobook version. you can tell inspiration struck him and he just went for it.
a big recommend here.
this hypnotic yarn will likely make you recall feelings of bitterness and anger which we all experience after a break up, but the writers subvert it all into a delicious psychological thriller that’s actually quite amusing in how close it hits home when it comes to the human condition.
oh, and simon vance gives one of his best and most passionate performances on the audiobook version. you can tell inspiration struck him and he just went for it.
a big recommend here.
February 12, 2022
This is the book that inspired ‘Vertigo’ the film. While the core of the story is much the same, Hitchcock and the writers deal with different aspects of that story and the endings are quite different. Despite having seen the movie a zillion times (slight exaggeration), the book had me hooked from the first few pages and I really enjoyed it. I have already got my hands on another of their books. Worth reading!
January 23, 2016
My very first thought at this particular moment is that I'm surprised by how many people did not enjoy this book, which I felt was absolutely stunning. I guess it's a case of "I've seen the movie and the book doesn't match" or something along those lines, but I focused entirely on the novel, putting the movie completely out of my head as I read it. The two have a number of similarities, and the basics of the book have definitely made it to the film, but there are also a number of differences. The novel itself is very dark, and is one of the best examples of a crime novel I've read in a long time, although really, as I've said before about other books, wedging this novel into one specific category is definitely a challenge since it covers a wide range, much in the same way as Highsmith's novels do.
I've written about this book at the crime page of my online journal; what I will say here is that even if you've seen the movie and then later read all about the movie, well, you still haven't read the novel. And it's excellent.
I've written about this book at the crime page of my online journal; what I will say here is that even if you've seen the movie and then later read all about the movie, well, you still haven't read the novel. And it's excellent.
July 15, 2023
REREAD: I really have nothing to add or improve upon my original thoughts below; this is a really quite excellent psychological mystery whether taken purely on its own terms or as the source material for one of the greatest films ever made.
____
For any good cinephile the standard line is that on its way to the screen Vertigo (1958) radically transformed its original source material, the (relatively) obscure French mystery novel written by Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac, more commonly known by the portmanteau moniker “Boileau-Narcejac.” This transformation directly resulted in what many feel is not only Alfred Hitchcock’s most deeply and intensely personal film, but one of the greatest films of all time. This is more or less what I expected, but it is not at all what I got.
What I discovered instead was an extremely interesting psychological mystery, and nearly all of major plot points and narrative events included in Hitchcock’s film originated within its pages. As some research demonstrated, I’m not the only one to feel like Boileau-Narcejac’s has received a critical short shrift. As Peter Lev writes in a thoughtful consideration of the connection between novel and film: “D’entre les morts is a thoughtful and innovative work of mystery fiction that deserves study both in its own right and as the precursor to the film Vertigo.”* I highly recommend Lev’s essay and some other scholarship that has emerged on this topic for deeply considered analyses, but for the sake of a review I offer several cursory thoughts and observations.
[Technically some of what will follow could be considered spoilers, though this shouldn’t be an issue for anybody who is even cursorily aware of the film’s plot.]
To begin, the commonalities: the aforementioned similarity in the basic narrative and plot, the central character of a former police detective (named Flavières in the novel, Scottie in the film) who becomes obsessed with his client’s wife, as well as the name of “Madeleine,” who becomes the object of Flavières/Scottie’s desire and obsession. It is this last attribute that most immediately interests me, as it nicely evokes what Carol Mavor (who is herself invoking the ideas of the late, great Chris Marker) describes as “the Proustian inflection of Scottie’s pursuit of Madeleine in Vertigo.”** For reading the novel after seeing the film–which is, I presume, the case with the vast majority of the novel’s reader’s today–is to experience involuntary recall, with memories of the movie’s lush imagery constantly materialize with a potency attributed to the madeleine by the narrator of À la recherche du temps perdu. But for me this is far from a bad thing, but instead creates an ideal site where a film and a literary text can and should be read as being in dialogue with each other, and a consideration of this type in turn reveals a number of insights, gaps, and resonances that can deepen and complicate understanding of both texts.
Because more than the similarities, what fascinated me most were the elements that appear in one text but not the other, as these often were the things that would often open up unexpected vistas of possible meaning. A particularly good example: D’entre les morts is overtly intertextual in a manner the film never is. The myth of Orpheus and Eurydice figures prominently in the narrative–so much so that Flavières’s affectionate pet name for Madeleine becomes “little Eurydice” (I had never considered Vertigo as an explicit retelling of the Eurydice myth. It seems so obvious now). It also references the cinema at a key point as well, as Flavières “rediscovers” his Eurydice when he glimpses her on a larger-than-life movie screen after he aimlessly wanders into a Parisian theater one afternoon. Considering that Vertigo is often characterized as an implicit meditation on cinema itself, it is interesting to note that these seeds seem to have (at the very least) been planted in the original novel. On a completely different level, while Vertigo is a depiction of one man’s obstinate descent into obsessive desire, the novel uses these personal experiences to explore the larger social trauma experienced by the French during WWII, which is perhaps why it leads to a darker conclusion than Hitchcock dares (though on a dramatic and emotional level, the film’s conclusion is far superior).
This review has amplified the novel’s strengths; I could further explicate the many areas where the film exceeds Boileau-Narcejac’s vision (the dream-logic of the narrative, the general oneiric quality it evokes, the representation of space, the creation of the supporting character of Midge to form a heartbreaking love triangle, etc.). Vertigo was crowned “the greatest film ever made” in the most recent Sight & Sound poll, and there’s a reason for that–it a legitimately great film, yes, even one of the great films. And this is a level of distinction that Boileau-Narcejac’s novel never comes close to achieving itself. But just because it’s not one of the all-time great mystery novels doesn’t at all detract from the fact that it’s very, very good. And this is something Hitchcock scholarship has tended to downplay–often to the point of deliberate obscuration–but much like the story of “the sad Carlotta Valdes” or her textual equivalent Pauline Lagerlac, in any consideration of Vertigo Boileau-Narcejac’s novel lingers like a mysterious specter, implying backstories and whole alternative histories that might well be repressed, but never fully erased.
*Collected in The Literature/Film Reader: Issues of Adaptation
**Black and Blue: The Bruising Passion of Camera Lucida, La Jetee, Sans soleil, and Hiroshima mon amour
"She was dead. And he was dead with her."
____
For any good cinephile the standard line is that on its way to the screen Vertigo (1958) radically transformed its original source material, the (relatively) obscure French mystery novel written by Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac, more commonly known by the portmanteau moniker “Boileau-Narcejac.” This transformation directly resulted in what many feel is not only Alfred Hitchcock’s most deeply and intensely personal film, but one of the greatest films of all time. This is more or less what I expected, but it is not at all what I got.
What I discovered instead was an extremely interesting psychological mystery, and nearly all of major plot points and narrative events included in Hitchcock’s film originated within its pages. As some research demonstrated, I’m not the only one to feel like Boileau-Narcejac’s has received a critical short shrift. As Peter Lev writes in a thoughtful consideration of the connection between novel and film: “D’entre les morts is a thoughtful and innovative work of mystery fiction that deserves study both in its own right and as the precursor to the film Vertigo.”* I highly recommend Lev’s essay and some other scholarship that has emerged on this topic for deeply considered analyses, but for the sake of a review I offer several cursory thoughts and observations.
[Technically some of what will follow could be considered spoilers, though this shouldn’t be an issue for anybody who is even cursorily aware of the film’s plot.]
To begin, the commonalities: the aforementioned similarity in the basic narrative and plot, the central character of a former police detective (named Flavières in the novel, Scottie in the film) who becomes obsessed with his client’s wife, as well as the name of “Madeleine,” who becomes the object of Flavières/Scottie’s desire and obsession. It is this last attribute that most immediately interests me, as it nicely evokes what Carol Mavor (who is herself invoking the ideas of the late, great Chris Marker) describes as “the Proustian inflection of Scottie’s pursuit of Madeleine in Vertigo.”** For reading the novel after seeing the film–which is, I presume, the case with the vast majority of the novel’s reader’s today–is to experience involuntary recall, with memories of the movie’s lush imagery constantly materialize with a potency attributed to the madeleine by the narrator of À la recherche du temps perdu. But for me this is far from a bad thing, but instead creates an ideal site where a film and a literary text can and should be read as being in dialogue with each other, and a consideration of this type in turn reveals a number of insights, gaps, and resonances that can deepen and complicate understanding of both texts.
Because more than the similarities, what fascinated me most were the elements that appear in one text but not the other, as these often were the things that would often open up unexpected vistas of possible meaning. A particularly good example: D’entre les morts is overtly intertextual in a manner the film never is. The myth of Orpheus and Eurydice figures prominently in the narrative–so much so that Flavières’s affectionate pet name for Madeleine becomes “little Eurydice” (I had never considered Vertigo as an explicit retelling of the Eurydice myth. It seems so obvious now). It also references the cinema at a key point as well, as Flavières “rediscovers” his Eurydice when he glimpses her on a larger-than-life movie screen after he aimlessly wanders into a Parisian theater one afternoon. Considering that Vertigo is often characterized as an implicit meditation on cinema itself, it is interesting to note that these seeds seem to have (at the very least) been planted in the original novel. On a completely different level, while Vertigo is a depiction of one man’s obstinate descent into obsessive desire, the novel uses these personal experiences to explore the larger social trauma experienced by the French during WWII, which is perhaps why it leads to a darker conclusion than Hitchcock dares (though on a dramatic and emotional level, the film’s conclusion is far superior).
This review has amplified the novel’s strengths; I could further explicate the many areas where the film exceeds Boileau-Narcejac’s vision (the dream-logic of the narrative, the general oneiric quality it evokes, the representation of space, the creation of the supporting character of Midge to form a heartbreaking love triangle, etc.). Vertigo was crowned “the greatest film ever made” in the most recent Sight & Sound poll, and there’s a reason for that–it a legitimately great film, yes, even one of the great films. And this is a level of distinction that Boileau-Narcejac’s novel never comes close to achieving itself. But just because it’s not one of the all-time great mystery novels doesn’t at all detract from the fact that it’s very, very good. And this is something Hitchcock scholarship has tended to downplay–often to the point of deliberate obscuration–but much like the story of “the sad Carlotta Valdes” or her textual equivalent Pauline Lagerlac, in any consideration of Vertigo Boileau-Narcejac’s novel lingers like a mysterious specter, implying backstories and whole alternative histories that might well be repressed, but never fully erased.
*Collected in The Literature/Film Reader: Issues of Adaptation
**Black and Blue: The Bruising Passion of Camera Lucida, La Jetee, Sans soleil, and Hiroshima mon amour
"She was dead. And he was dead with her."
Want to Read
May 9, 2024I’ve watched the movie (of 1958) with the same title, by Alfred Hitchcock.
This is a psychological thriller of the best quality, I have ever seen. As the film-director W. Friedkin put it, it’s a case of “a lost love and mistaken identity”.
Especially in the first part [my division] of the movie the viewer is focused on the pathology of Madeleine (played by Kim Novak); whereas in the second part Scotty (played by Jimmy Stewart) becomes somehow pathological (melancholic) due to the presumed death of Madeleine, the person he was in love with. The last (third) part of the movie provides the viewer with the sort of scam revelation Scotty has been under since the very beginning. But since he’s not careful enough he loses his second chance: he loses Judy too, in fact Madeleine under disguise.
The introductory scenes show how Scotty became acrophobic and, henceforth, a retired detective.
Maybe due to Hitchcock’s maturity coupled with the 1950’s inherent beauty*, the movie results in a fine work of art; from the moment it starts till the end.
Shot in San Francisco, it allows the viewer the chance to enjoy bumpy roads, the Golden Gate and the Bay area landscapes a few times; even a visit to the sequoias forest. But most beautiful* are the camera sequences shot in the Art Gallery when Madeleine contemplates a painting, under the secret eyeing of Scotty, then with a mission: to unravel the pathology of the wife of his friend. “Just follow my wife”; Scotty, the retired detective, accepts the assignment.
Scotty had seen her “falling” into the Bay; so he rushed to save her from the waters. She doesn’t know what happened. Her husband had told Scotty that someone had taken possession of Madeleine: Carlota Valdes.
Scotty will get fooled in a visit to a church, “witnessing” Madeleine falling from its roof. Thence his melancholy state.
Until he meets another woman called Judy, remotely resembled to blondish Madeleine. Throughout their acquaintance period, Scotty tries, by all means, to change Judy’s looks: her clothing and hair color, namely. Scotty turns obsessive about the looks.
The last scenes of the movie, showing a determined Scotty forcing Judy to climb the inner stairs of a church, in this kind of going back to the scene of the crime, turns therapeutic for himself, who overcomes temporarily his fear of heights; yet fatal to Judy/Madeleine who gets scared, by the appearance of an innocent wondering nun; and, in fact, falls from the church heights.
About the movie Hitch commented it was a chance for Jimmy Stewart to “indulgence in a form of necrophilia”.
PS Just to say that this movie ranks 1st in a poll of July 2015
Check here:http://www.bfi.org.uk/news/50-greates...
UPDATE:
Zizek in Frisco and wearing a suit, that’s revolutionary.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=168Ms...
UPDATE
https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/l...
…...
*My appraisal.
This is a psychological thriller of the best quality, I have ever seen. As the film-director W. Friedkin put it, it’s a case of “a lost love and mistaken identity”.
Especially in the first part [my division] of the movie the viewer is focused on the pathology of Madeleine (played by Kim Novak); whereas in the second part Scotty (played by Jimmy Stewart) becomes somehow pathological (melancholic) due to the presumed death of Madeleine, the person he was in love with. The last (third) part of the movie provides the viewer with the sort of scam revelation Scotty has been under since the very beginning. But since he’s not careful enough he loses his second chance: he loses Judy too, in fact Madeleine under disguise.
The introductory scenes show how Scotty became acrophobic and, henceforth, a retired detective.
Maybe due to Hitchcock’s maturity coupled with the 1950’s inherent beauty*, the movie results in a fine work of art; from the moment it starts till the end.
Shot in San Francisco, it allows the viewer the chance to enjoy bumpy roads, the Golden Gate and the Bay area landscapes a few times; even a visit to the sequoias forest. But most beautiful* are the camera sequences shot in the Art Gallery when Madeleine contemplates a painting, under the secret eyeing of Scotty, then with a mission: to unravel the pathology of the wife of his friend. “Just follow my wife”; Scotty, the retired detective, accepts the assignment.
Scotty had seen her “falling” into the Bay; so he rushed to save her from the waters. She doesn’t know what happened. Her husband had told Scotty that someone had taken possession of Madeleine: Carlota Valdes.
Scotty will get fooled in a visit to a church, “witnessing” Madeleine falling from its roof. Thence his melancholy state.
Until he meets another woman called Judy, remotely resembled to blondish Madeleine. Throughout their acquaintance period, Scotty tries, by all means, to change Judy’s looks: her clothing and hair color, namely. Scotty turns obsessive about the looks.
The last scenes of the movie, showing a determined Scotty forcing Judy to climb the inner stairs of a church, in this kind of going back to the scene of the crime, turns therapeutic for himself, who overcomes temporarily his fear of heights; yet fatal to Judy/Madeleine who gets scared, by the appearance of an innocent wondering nun; and, in fact, falls from the church heights.
About the movie Hitch commented it was a chance for Jimmy Stewart to “indulgence in a form of necrophilia”.
PS Just to say that this movie ranks 1st in a poll of July 2015
Check here:http://www.bfi.org.uk/news/50-greates...
UPDATE:
Zizek in Frisco and wearing a suit, that’s revolutionary.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=168Ms...
UPDATE
https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/l...
…...
*My appraisal.
October 22, 2022
Este é um daqueles raros casos, na minha opinião, que o filme consegue ser um pouco melhor que o livro... mas igualmente surpreendente.
Este clássico da literatura de suspense, o qual relata uma poderosa e sombria obsessão, leva-nos a querer rever a obra-prima de Hitchcock.
“Desde o instante em que desembarcara na estação que ela não parava de o atormentar. Há caras que se esquecem; gastam-se; o tempo vai-as roendo, como as estátuas de pedra, nas soleiras das catedrais, cuja fronte, a face, pouco a pouco, perderam os contornos, a palpitação da vida. Ela estava intacta, no fundo dos olhos dele.”
Este clássico da literatura de suspense, o qual relata uma poderosa e sombria obsessão, leva-nos a querer rever a obra-prima de Hitchcock.
“Desde o instante em que desembarcara na estação que ela não parava de o atormentar. Há caras que se esquecem; gastam-se; o tempo vai-as roendo, como as estátuas de pedra, nas soleiras das catedrais, cuja fronte, a face, pouco a pouco, perderam os contornos, a palpitação da vida. Ela estava intacta, no fundo dos olhos dele.”
November 7, 2017
Yep, this is that Vertigo, the one that Alfred Hitchcock made famous although you shouldn’t go into this hoping to find it similar to the movie. For starters, this was not based in San Francisco. The book was written in 1954 by French collaborators (a poor choice of words) Pierre Boileau and Pierre Ayraud under the pen name Boileau-Narcejac. Originally titled D'entre les morts, "Among the Dead" it is based in Paris during the years just before and shortly after the German occupation. It is a fascinating tale of suspense that is oh so French, complete with lots of lunches in Parisian cafés and walks along the Seine. And passion. We mustn't forget the passion. This is Paris, after all.
Former policeman Roger Flavières is hired by an old acquaintance to keep tabs on his wife whom he claims has been behaving strangely. She has apparently developed an unhealthy obsession with a grandmother that had committed suicide long ago. The acquaintance, Gévigne, says that his wife has begun copying the dress and mannerisms of the deceased granny and he is worried about her. Flavières reluctantly agrees to look into the matter but his reluctance vanishes quickly once he lays eyes on the Mme. Gévigne, and he rapidly falls head over heals in love with her.
It doesn't end well, but I'll let you discover that for yourself.
For a long time I had no idea where this story was going. Is it a crime story, a psychological drama, maybe even something a bit paranormal? I had no clue. I hadn't seen the movie in decades and couldn't remember how it ended but from all that I had heard, the endings might be totally different. (They still might. I have a copy of the movie on hold at the library.) The ending totally took me by surprise, which made up for a few slow spots in the third quarter that bordered on tedious.
Bottom line: This book has been on my tbr list for a few years and I am glad that I finally read it. Now I definitely want to read Celle qui n'était plus which director Henri-Georges Clouzot made into the magnificent movie, Diabolique.
My thanks to the folks at the Pulp Fiction group for introducing me to this and many other fine books and giving me the opportunity to discuss it with them.
Former policeman Roger Flavières is hired by an old acquaintance to keep tabs on his wife whom he claims has been behaving strangely. She has apparently developed an unhealthy obsession with a grandmother that had committed suicide long ago. The acquaintance, Gévigne, says that his wife has begun copying the dress and mannerisms of the deceased granny and he is worried about her. Flavières reluctantly agrees to look into the matter but his reluctance vanishes quickly once he lays eyes on the Mme. Gévigne, and he rapidly falls head over heals in love with her.
It doesn't end well, but I'll let you discover that for yourself.
For a long time I had no idea where this story was going. Is it a crime story, a psychological drama, maybe even something a bit paranormal? I had no clue. I hadn't seen the movie in decades and couldn't remember how it ended but from all that I had heard, the endings might be totally different. (They still might. I have a copy of the movie on hold at the library.) The ending totally took me by surprise, which made up for a few slow spots in the third quarter that bordered on tedious.
Bottom line: This book has been on my tbr list for a few years and I am glad that I finally read it. Now I definitely want to read Celle qui n'était plus which director Henri-Georges Clouzot made into the magnificent movie, Diabolique.
My thanks to the folks at the Pulp Fiction group for introducing me to this and many other fine books and giving me the opportunity to discuss it with them.
May 15, 2022
The "Super Team" of Boileau-Narcejac - two award-winning French thriller writers who joined forces for about 40 years and over 40 novels - wrote this book with Hitchcock in mind for the film rights after his bid came up short for their prior effort, She Who Was No More (filmed as "Les Diaboliques"). Pushkin-Vertigo gets no style points for the hideously ugly cover, but fortunately the story of obsessive love that survives death remains compelling. Unlike the noted film version, the book is set in France in the time period before and after the German occupation of WWII, and there are plot differences as well including the equally-bleak ending.
December 16, 2017
Quando un romanzo ti prende tanto da farti provare angoscia, paura, ansia e rabbia, io penso che abbia colto nel segno.
Se poi, come questo, è un giallo denso di atmosfere noir (e Parigi si presta magistralmente allo scopo), di ossessioni e incubi, con misteri e colpi di scena sino alla fine… bisognerebbe farne un film!
Ops, qualcuno ci ha già pensato regalandoci un capolavoro: Vertigo, uno dei più belli del maestro Alfred Hitchcock.
Se poi, come questo, è un giallo denso di atmosfere noir (e Parigi si presta magistralmente allo scopo), di ossessioni e incubi, con misteri e colpi di scena sino alla fine… bisognerebbe farne un film!
Ops, qualcuno ci ha già pensato regalandoci un capolavoro: Vertigo, uno dei più belli del maestro Alfred Hitchcock.
October 4, 2018
از میان مردگان یک کتاب رمان با داستان جنایی از نویسندگان فرانسوی بوالو-نارسژاک است که در سال ۱۹۵۴ نوشته شد.
آلفرد هیچکاک کارگردان شهیر آمریکایی، فیلم سرگیجه را با اقتباس از این رمان در سال ۱۹۵۸ روی پرده سینما برد.
از میان مردگان معروفترین رمان این دو نویسنده جنایینویس است و با نامهای سرگیجه و عرق سرد هم منتشر شده است. داستان رمان با فیلمی که هیچکاک ارائه میدهد تفاوتهایی دارد و از نظر ظرافت، هیجان و درک بهتر، قلم کتاب از فیلمنامه جلوتر است ولی از نظر سیر داستانی و سرانجام یکسان است.
آلفرد هیچکاک کارگردان شهیر آمریکایی، فیلم سرگیجه را با اقتباس از این رمان در سال ۱۹۵۸ روی پرده سینما برد.
از میان مردگان معروفترین رمان این دو نویسنده جنایینویس است و با نامهای سرگیجه و عرق سرد هم منتشر شده است. داستان رمان با فیلمی که هیچکاک ارائه میدهد تفاوتهایی دارد و از نظر ظرافت، هیجان و درک بهتر، قلم کتاب از فیلمنامه جلوتر است ولی از نظر سیر داستانی و سرانجام یکسان است.
May 11, 2021
La trama parte bien, pero en buena parte del centro del libro se vuelve un poco muerto, sin avance, repetitivo, al final se recompone un poco. Creo que la película de Hitchcock ha sido formidable, le restado un poco de monologo repetitivo del protagonista y ha quedado bastante bien.
April 10, 2026
[He] had the impression he was looking at a badly dubbed film, with some nonentity speaking the part of a star."Which was better?, the book or the movie?" is an ongoing healthy debate. It can be fun occasionally to play that game. Since 'Vertigo' is among my favorite Hitchcock films, I decided to play along by reading the novel.
The novel is one of the very few (apparently) by the successful writing team of Pierre Boileau and 'Thomas Narcejac' (Pierre Ayraud) that is available in an English translation... along with another major work - 'She Who Was No More'. Hitchcock had very much wanted to film the latter title but he was beaten out by French filmmaker Henri-Georges Clouzot (who filmed it as 'Les Diaboliques').
The upshot was that Hitchcock snatched up 'Vertigo' instead. Although Francois Truffaut (who had famously interviewed Hitchcock) helped to popularize the idea that the authors wrote 'Vertigo' *for* Hitchcock, the authors denied that.
Hitchcock's film version is now (as opposed to when it was first released) highly regarded; categorized as a classic. Its 'mistaken identity' plot is perhaps generally well-known. But does it do the book justice?
It's interesting to compare. Essentially, the movie remains very respectful of the source material and, overall, follows the book rather closely. But ultimately the movie is better; its screenplay fleshes out the plot in a few ways that are not only more compelling but more cinematic.
The novel - set in Paris in 1940 as opposed to the mid-50s in San Francisco - has the backdrop of the imminent German occupation (naturally pointless for the American film). The film also jettisons the male lead becoming a hopeless alcoholic when his psychological problems mount, while adding a lovesick female friend waiting in the wings for him.
Some readers might find - esp. in the second half - that the tone feels repetitive but, at the same time, there's an undeniable pull to the finish (an end that mirrors the film in a way but still makes the male lead - played by James Stewart on-screen - much less sympathetic on the page).
Here we have a solid example of the film, yes, being better - while the book still works well as satisfying augmentation. The two incarnations speak to each other - as, in the story itself, the living speaks to the dead.
May 17, 2011
next time someone says "the book is always better than the movie," this here's exhibit A for the other side. it's the whole movie-- structurally-- beginning to end; only in france, during WWII, and minus a few keys things:
1) jimmy stewart (this guy's just a hopeless asshole loser)
2) kim novak (there's no magic and the love story's unconvincing)
3) the character midge (without whom, no hope of normalcy)
4) the inquest scene (for me, always the most painful part)
5) the final, all-important re-creation scene (and the overcoming of the main character's vertigo)
it's easy to understand how the first four might be missing from the original, but the last is just kind of mind-blowing. how could anyone think that the book ended properly with the ending that it actually has?? bizarre.
anyway, it's not a bad book, it's just... not vertigo. it's short and cynical and unromantic and ugly. it's way more boris vian than james m. cain (or m.r. james). you never buy the whole ghost story aspect at all, you never even consider it (and i buy it every single time, watching the movie).
chalk a big one up for the auteur theory.
(actually titled D'entre les morts and originally translated as The Living and the Dead.)
1) jimmy stewart (this guy's just a hopeless asshole loser)
2) kim novak (there's no magic and the love story's unconvincing)
3) the character midge (without whom, no hope of normalcy)
4) the inquest scene (for me, always the most painful part)
5) the final, all-important re-creation scene (and the overcoming of the main character's vertigo)
it's easy to understand how the first four might be missing from the original, but the last is just kind of mind-blowing. how could anyone think that the book ended properly with the ending that it actually has?? bizarre.
anyway, it's not a bad book, it's just... not vertigo. it's short and cynical and unromantic and ugly. it's way more boris vian than james m. cain (or m.r. james). you never buy the whole ghost story aspect at all, you never even consider it (and i buy it every single time, watching the movie).
chalk a big one up for the auteur theory.
(actually titled D'entre les morts and originally translated as The Living and the Dead.)
September 17, 2015
From among the dead...
As Paris waits uneasily for war to begin, Roger Flavières is approached by an old college friend, Gévigne, who puts an odd proposition to him. Gévigne is concerned about his wife, Madeleine. She has been lapsing into odd silences, almost trances, and seems bewildered when she comes out of them. Gévigne knows she's been going out during the afternoons but she says she hasn't – either she is lying, which Gévigne doesn't believe, or she has forgotten. Gévigne wants Flavières to follow her, partly to find out what she's doing and partly to make sure she is safe. Flavières assumes she is having an affair, but eventually agrees to Gévigne's request. But a few days later, Madeleine steps quietly into the river and Flavières has to rescue her – a meeting that leads to him developing a strange obsession for her, which he calls love.
This is, of course, the book on which the famous Hitchcock film is based, a film I have always admired more than enjoyed, partly because I'm not a huge fan of Kim Novak. The plot is very similar to the book, though Hitchcock has changed the emphasis to make more of the vertigo aspect. Apparently the book was originally called D'entre les morts (From Among the Dead), and this is a much more apt title. Flavières does suffer from vertigo and this was the cause of him being indirectly responsible for the death of his partner when he worked for the police, and also provides a crucial plot point later on in the book. But the focus of the book is much more on the breakdown of Flavières' hold on reality as he comes to believe that Madeleine has the ability to return, like Eurydice, from the dead.
The book is set in wartime, with the first section taking place in Paris just as the war is beginning and the second part four years later in Marseilles as it is heading towards its end. This gives a feeling of disruption and displacement which is entirely missing from the film, set as it is in peacetime America. It is impossible for Flavières to track Madeleine's past because records have been destroyed, and people are constantly on the move, both physically and socially, as black marketeers and weapons manufacturers grow wealthy and those who can, leave the parts of France most affected by war. Flavières failed the medical for the army, for reasons left deliberately rather vague, and feels he is despised by strangers who see an apparently fit man avoiding service.
Another major difference is that in the book Flavières is a loner – or, at least, alone. He appears to have no friends and gets no fulfilment from his job as a lawyer. In the film, Scottie Ferguson (the Flavières character) has a devoted friend in Midge Wood, and is an all-round decent chap, although guilt-ridden. Flavières is not a decent chap! He is a weak man, pitiable almost, whose obsession with Madeleine seems like an extension of an already unstable mental state rather than the cause of it. As the book progresses, he steadily disintegrates, and his behaviour becomes ever more disturbing and crueller towards Madeleine for not admitting to being who he thinks she is.
The book is very well written, and well translated for the most part, although with an annoying tendency to leave some phrases untranslated, such as names of paintings or institutions, meaning I had to resort to Google from time to time to catch a nuance that a translation would have made clear. Apparently, according to the notes in the book, Boileau and Narcejac wanted to create a new style of mystery, away from the standard fare of whodunnits and hard-boileds, putting the victim at the centre of the plot. Boileau was responsible for coming up with the plots while Narcejac created the characterisations. In my view, a partnership that worked brilliantly – the plot of this is fiendishly complex, and Flavières' character is a wonderful study of the effect of obsession on a weak mind. Overall I thought it was much darker than the film, mainly because Flavières may be a victim but there is no attempt to make him out as a good guy - an example of how to write an unlikeable character in such a way as to make him fascinating. The beginning is somewhat slow but I suspect that may be because I knew the plot from the film. As it begins to diverge in the second half I found it completely riveting as it drove inexorably towards its darkly satisfying ending.
Unusually for a Hitchcock film, I think the book actually delves more deeply into the psychology and makes it more credible. Hitchcock's decision to elevate the importance of the vertigo aspects somehow makes his Ferguson a less complex and intriguing character than Boileau-Narcejac's Flavières. And the ending of the book is much more satisfying than that of the film. For once, despite my abiding love for Mr Hitchcock, on this occasion the victory goes to the book!
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, Pushkin Press.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
As Paris waits uneasily for war to begin, Roger Flavières is approached by an old college friend, Gévigne, who puts an odd proposition to him. Gévigne is concerned about his wife, Madeleine. She has been lapsing into odd silences, almost trances, and seems bewildered when she comes out of them. Gévigne knows she's been going out during the afternoons but she says she hasn't – either she is lying, which Gévigne doesn't believe, or she has forgotten. Gévigne wants Flavières to follow her, partly to find out what she's doing and partly to make sure she is safe. Flavières assumes she is having an affair, but eventually agrees to Gévigne's request. But a few days later, Madeleine steps quietly into the river and Flavières has to rescue her – a meeting that leads to him developing a strange obsession for her, which he calls love.
This is, of course, the book on which the famous Hitchcock film is based, a film I have always admired more than enjoyed, partly because I'm not a huge fan of Kim Novak. The plot is very similar to the book, though Hitchcock has changed the emphasis to make more of the vertigo aspect. Apparently the book was originally called D'entre les morts (From Among the Dead), and this is a much more apt title. Flavières does suffer from vertigo and this was the cause of him being indirectly responsible for the death of his partner when he worked for the police, and also provides a crucial plot point later on in the book. But the focus of the book is much more on the breakdown of Flavières' hold on reality as he comes to believe that Madeleine has the ability to return, like Eurydice, from the dead.
The book is set in wartime, with the first section taking place in Paris just as the war is beginning and the second part four years later in Marseilles as it is heading towards its end. This gives a feeling of disruption and displacement which is entirely missing from the film, set as it is in peacetime America. It is impossible for Flavières to track Madeleine's past because records have been destroyed, and people are constantly on the move, both physically and socially, as black marketeers and weapons manufacturers grow wealthy and those who can, leave the parts of France most affected by war. Flavières failed the medical for the army, for reasons left deliberately rather vague, and feels he is despised by strangers who see an apparently fit man avoiding service.
Another major difference is that in the book Flavières is a loner – or, at least, alone. He appears to have no friends and gets no fulfilment from his job as a lawyer. In the film, Scottie Ferguson (the Flavières character) has a devoted friend in Midge Wood, and is an all-round decent chap, although guilt-ridden. Flavières is not a decent chap! He is a weak man, pitiable almost, whose obsession with Madeleine seems like an extension of an already unstable mental state rather than the cause of it. As the book progresses, he steadily disintegrates, and his behaviour becomes ever more disturbing and crueller towards Madeleine for not admitting to being who he thinks she is.
The book is very well written, and well translated for the most part, although with an annoying tendency to leave some phrases untranslated, such as names of paintings or institutions, meaning I had to resort to Google from time to time to catch a nuance that a translation would have made clear. Apparently, according to the notes in the book, Boileau and Narcejac wanted to create a new style of mystery, away from the standard fare of whodunnits and hard-boileds, putting the victim at the centre of the plot. Boileau was responsible for coming up with the plots while Narcejac created the characterisations. In my view, a partnership that worked brilliantly – the plot of this is fiendishly complex, and Flavières' character is a wonderful study of the effect of obsession on a weak mind. Overall I thought it was much darker than the film, mainly because Flavières may be a victim but there is no attempt to make him out as a good guy - an example of how to write an unlikeable character in such a way as to make him fascinating. The beginning is somewhat slow but I suspect that may be because I knew the plot from the film. As it begins to diverge in the second half I found it completely riveting as it drove inexorably towards its darkly satisfying ending.
Unusually for a Hitchcock film, I think the book actually delves more deeply into the psychology and makes it more credible. Hitchcock's decision to elevate the importance of the vertigo aspects somehow makes his Ferguson a less complex and intriguing character than Boileau-Narcejac's Flavières. And the ending of the book is much more satisfying than that of the film. For once, despite my abiding love for Mr Hitchcock, on this occasion the victory goes to the book!
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, Pushkin Press.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
October 9, 2023
PAZ-ZE-SCO
Fremevo dalla voglia di leggere questo libro da quando scoprii che uno dei miei film preferiti era basato su questo romanzo. Stiamo parlando di Vertigo di Hitchcock, e per chi ancora non lo avesse visto suggerisco animatamente di recuperarlo.
Inutile quindi dire che avevo altissime aspettative per questo romanzo. Aspettative tutte confermate, ho fatto fatica a staccarmi dalle pagine! La penna, anzi le penne, di Boileau e Narcejac hanno creato uno dei noir migliori di sempre, a parer mio. Non voglio fare spoiler, se siete amanti del genere (Seichō Matsumoto, Georges Simenon) dovete assolutamente recuperare questo titolo.
Fremevo dalla voglia di leggere questo libro da quando scoprii che uno dei miei film preferiti era basato su questo romanzo. Stiamo parlando di Vertigo di Hitchcock, e per chi ancora non lo avesse visto suggerisco animatamente di recuperarlo.
Inutile quindi dire che avevo altissime aspettative per questo romanzo. Aspettative tutte confermate, ho fatto fatica a staccarmi dalle pagine! La penna, anzi le penne, di Boileau e Narcejac hanno creato uno dei noir migliori di sempre, a parer mio. Non voglio fare spoiler, se siete amanti del genere (Seichō Matsumoto, Georges Simenon) dovete assolutamente recuperare questo titolo.
May 20, 2022
A stylish and ageless thriller that starts on a cliched note, ends with a bang, and has a plot that I think is not guessable for most crime fiction readers. This is perfect noir, unless the lack of smart-talking tough guys turns you off.
The tortured main character is developed so well that you completely "get" his state of mind. Details like the MC's memories of caves in Saumur add to the atmosphere. The Second World War is always in the background. The authors are masters of setting. They certainly take their time building up the plot, but in the end it is quite a knock-out, though perhaps less fiendish than Les Diaboliques (which was based also on their book; I saw the film but haven't read that book).
It helped that I saw the movie Vertigo so long ago that I wasn't able to compare the two. In any case, there's no reason why one should. The book is nowhere as famous, of course, but it's a masterpiece.
The tortured main character is developed so well that you completely "get" his state of mind. Details like the MC's memories of caves in Saumur add to the atmosphere. The Second World War is always in the background. The authors are masters of setting. They certainly take their time building up the plot, but in the end it is quite a knock-out, though perhaps less fiendish than Les Diaboliques (which was based also on their book; I saw the film but haven't read that book).
It helped that I saw the movie Vertigo so long ago that I wasn't able to compare the two. In any case, there's no reason why one should. The book is nowhere as famous, of course, but it's a masterpiece.
November 4, 2021
Gran bel libro. Sono indecisa se fermarmi a 4 o dargli le 5*.
Ammetto che del film mi è sempre sfuggito il significato (secondo me arrivavo mezza addormentata alla fine e, ops, mi perdevo la spiegazione del mistero!), ma ora ho capito e l'inghippo è davvero diabolico (poi so che qualcuno più sveglio di me probabilmente ci sarebbe arrivato prima, ma tendo ad essere ingenua con questo genere di libri e a lasciarmi trascinare dalla storia). Detto questo, il libro è molto più oscuro del film. Il protagonista è tormentato, anzi ossessionato da Madeleine, al punto da rasentare (ma forse è più corretto dire "raggiungere") la follia. Il James Steward di Hitchock è un personaggio integerrimo, un cavaliere pronto a salvare la sua principessa in difficoltà, Flavieres invece... Flavieres è tutta un'altra storia!
Super consigliato!
Ammetto che del film mi è sempre sfuggito il significato (secondo me arrivavo mezza addormentata alla fine e, ops, mi perdevo la spiegazione del mistero!), ma ora ho capito e l'inghippo è davvero diabolico (poi so che qualcuno più sveglio di me probabilmente ci sarebbe arrivato prima, ma tendo ad essere ingenua con questo genere di libri e a lasciarmi trascinare dalla storia). Detto questo, il libro è molto più oscuro del film. Il protagonista è tormentato, anzi ossessionato da Madeleine, al punto da rasentare (ma forse è più corretto dire "raggiungere") la follia. Il James Steward di Hitchock è un personaggio integerrimo, un cavaliere pronto a salvare la sua principessa in difficoltà, Flavieres invece... Flavieres è tutta un'altra storia!
Super consigliato!
February 6, 2026
Misterioso. Ossessivo. Incalzante.
April 21, 2019
Vertigo was published in 1954. The main protagonist is Flavieres. He is contacted by an old friend, whose wife is behaving strangely.
Thus begins the wonderful tale of obsession that culminates in a shocking death at the end.
Who is Madeline, it is through Flavieres eyes that we met this ambiguous woman. Even in the end, it feels like we do not know her at all.
As I was reading this book, I was remembering the wonderful movie by Hitchcock. He did make changes, but the main story is taking directly from the book.
The story of a person complete mental breakdown, fueled by obsession.
I had great difficulty in liking the character of Flavirres. His actions throughout the book are questionable.
By the end, I was not sure how I wanted the story to end.
The ending, however, is wonderful, a great ending for a great story.
Thus begins the wonderful tale of obsession that culminates in a shocking death at the end.
Who is Madeline, it is through Flavieres eyes that we met this ambiguous woman. Even in the end, it feels like we do not know her at all.
As I was reading this book, I was remembering the wonderful movie by Hitchcock. He did make changes, but the main story is taking directly from the book.
The story of a person complete mental breakdown, fueled by obsession.
I had great difficulty in liking the character of Flavirres. His actions throughout the book are questionable.
By the end, I was not sure how I wanted the story to end.
The ending, however, is wonderful, a great ending for a great story.
January 4, 2023
This book was so different from the English crime thrillers that I usually read.
What an ending! It was completely unexpected. When I started the book, the supernatural elements didn't bode well with me and I was wondering where it was going. But the ending made it up.
Glad to end 2022 with a 4 * read !
What an ending! It was completely unexpected. When I started the book, the supernatural elements didn't bode well with me and I was wondering where it was going. But the ending made it up.
Glad to end 2022 with a 4 * read !
April 1, 2023
This novel was written with Hitchcock in mind, though he wasn’t aware of it! Hitchcock did a brilliant job turning it into a classic film. I’ve always admired how he personifies his visions created from books.
The book is so much better than the movie. I kept getting distracted. I read several novels in between breaks. I think it’s because I know the movie so well. I took my time visualizing the characters and the setting in France. I tried to separate the movie from the book. I succeeded in due time.
Once I found myself immersed in Flavières hallucinations I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
At the end of the book there’s a brief discussion.
“And, much like Hitchcock’s bomb that must never explode, Boileau-Narcejac had one golden rule: the protagonist can never wake up from their nightmare”.
I found myself falling into the downward spiral of his vertigo!!
Can’t wait to read another one of their books. Hopefully I can find the English translations.
The book is so much better than the movie. I kept getting distracted. I read several novels in between breaks. I think it’s because I know the movie so well. I took my time visualizing the characters and the setting in France. I tried to separate the movie from the book. I succeeded in due time.
Once I found myself immersed in Flavières hallucinations I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
At the end of the book there’s a brief discussion.
“And, much like Hitchcock’s bomb that must never explode, Boileau-Narcejac had one golden rule: the protagonist can never wake up from their nightmare”.
I found myself falling into the downward spiral of his vertigo!!
Can’t wait to read another one of their books. Hopefully I can find the English translations.
July 19, 2021
Gritty and dark, with memorable twists and turns! I LOVE the film (it is my number 1 film of all time) and I was sceptical about reading the original novel, but it's a tale with a similar thread but played out by new characters. A VERY enjoyable read with such writing that I could visualise every scene, Paris became a living thing and the suffocating feeling of a city in peril was not the only thing looming! Brilliant read
Second read of this book and as claustrophobic as the first read, the ever sense that bad things will occur lingers like the heavy atmosphere just before a storm.
Dramatic and wonderful, filled with grime and the prospect of hope just out of reach!
Second read of this book and as claustrophobic as the first read, the ever sense that bad things will occur lingers like the heavy atmosphere just before a storm.
Dramatic and wonderful, filled with grime and the prospect of hope just out of reach!
June 3, 2023
Written with Hitchcock in mind by the two writers who were tired of the same hardboiled and British noir. A few details were changed, with the film adaptation - such as the setting being moved from Paris to San Francisco, and the occupation of the protagonist. It's glaringly obvious after reading this that Jimmy Stewart was perfectly cast.
September 29, 2024
Si usa dire che il libro sia quasi sempre meglio del film, ma sarà così anche nel caso del libro da cui è stato tratto Vertigo di Hitchcock, uno dei migliori film della storia del cinema?
In questo caso forse no, ma quella di D'entre les morts – uso il titolo francese così non ci confondiamo tra romanzo e film, che invece in italiano hanno lo stesso nome – è stata una lettura notevole, di quelle che lasciano il segno.
La storia all'inizio è più o meno la stessa, ambientata però in Francia anziché a San Francisco, mentre da un certo punto in poi troviamo delle piccole ma significative differenze, per cui le due trame non si allontanano davvero ma non sono più sovrapponibili come nella prima parte.
È anche molto importante la collocazione temporale della storia originale: i primi tempi della Seconda Guerra Mondiale, quando a Parigi in pochi temevano che i tedeschi avrebbero invaso la Francia, e poi, dopo uno stacco di cinque anni, l'immediato dopoguerra, con le macerie e la distruzione, tra cui chi può cerca di riprendere la vita come era prima, ma non ci riesce mai davvero.
Perché la copia non è mai come l'originale (per non parlare del fatto che quale sia l'originale e quale la copia è un concetto relativo). E contro questa evidenza continua a scontrarsi il protagonista, che vuole che la donna che ama sia viva, vivente, anzi ri-vivente per la terza volta (non ho mai capito perché il titolo italiano spoileri male, dato che le volte sarebbero tre e non due), come l'Euridice di Orfeo, il mito a cui l'aveva accostata già al tempo del loro primo incontro.
Così, pagina dopo pagina assistiamo alla caduta di un uomo in una spirale allucinata (e alcolica) di autodistruzione e di allontanamento dalla realtà, al suo volo in un abisso che non sembra avere fondo, ennesima beffa proprio a lui che soffre di vertigini, che per le vertigini ha lasciato la carriera da poliziotto e da allora si è fatto consumare dentro da un senso di colpa tanto schiacciante quanto immotivato, finendo per crogiolarcisi e fare il possibile, inconsciamente, per accrescerlo.
C'è anche il mistero che alla fine viene svelato, e se non lo si conosce dal film è senz'altro una bella trovata, ma il vero nucleo del romanzo è l'inesorabile discesa negli inferi del protagonista, descritta dai due autori in un modo a mio avviso così reale e terribile che ogni tanto mi mancava l'aria.
In questo caso forse no, ma quella di D'entre les morts – uso il titolo francese così non ci confondiamo tra romanzo e film, che invece in italiano hanno lo stesso nome – è stata una lettura notevole, di quelle che lasciano il segno.
La storia all'inizio è più o meno la stessa, ambientata però in Francia anziché a San Francisco, mentre da un certo punto in poi troviamo delle piccole ma significative differenze, per cui le due trame non si allontanano davvero ma non sono più sovrapponibili come nella prima parte.
È anche molto importante la collocazione temporale della storia originale: i primi tempi della Seconda Guerra Mondiale, quando a Parigi in pochi temevano che i tedeschi avrebbero invaso la Francia, e poi, dopo uno stacco di cinque anni, l'immediato dopoguerra, con le macerie e la distruzione, tra cui chi può cerca di riprendere la vita come era prima, ma non ci riesce mai davvero.
Perché la copia non è mai come l'originale (per non parlare del fatto che quale sia l'originale e quale la copia è un concetto relativo). E contro questa evidenza continua a scontrarsi il protagonista, che vuole che la donna che ama sia viva, vivente, anzi ri-vivente per la terza volta (non ho mai capito perché il titolo italiano spoileri male, dato che le volte sarebbero tre e non due), come l'Euridice di Orfeo, il mito a cui l'aveva accostata già al tempo del loro primo incontro.
Così, pagina dopo pagina assistiamo alla caduta di un uomo in una spirale allucinata (e alcolica) di autodistruzione e di allontanamento dalla realtà, al suo volo in un abisso che non sembra avere fondo, ennesima beffa proprio a lui che soffre di vertigini, che per le vertigini ha lasciato la carriera da poliziotto e da allora si è fatto consumare dentro da un senso di colpa tanto schiacciante quanto immotivato, finendo per crogiolarcisi e fare il possibile, inconsciamente, per accrescerlo.
C'è anche il mistero che alla fine viene svelato, e se non lo si conosce dal film è senz'altro una bella trovata, ma il vero nucleo del romanzo è l'inesorabile discesa negli inferi del protagonista, descritta dai due autori in un modo a mio avviso così reale e terribile che ogni tanto mi mancava l'aria.
October 8, 2017
Il romanzo narra un'ossessione che si avvita su se stessa fino a fagocitare l'uomo che ne è vittima.
Per buona parte del libro ho rimpianto il film di Hitchcock, perché pur seguendo il tormento del protagonista ho faticato a lasciarmi coinvolgere dalla narrazione e dal mistero che avvolge la donna oggetto di tanta fatale passione.
Le cose sono decisamente migliorate nel finale, grazie all'accelerazione ed al crescendo allucinatorio che trova finalmente sbocco.
Non è un'opera memorabile e non mi ha lasciato il desiderio di leggere altro degli autori, ma ogni tanto l'immersione in un'atmosfera rétro non mi dispiace.
Per buona parte del libro ho rimpianto il film di Hitchcock, perché pur seguendo il tormento del protagonista ho faticato a lasciarmi coinvolgere dalla narrazione e dal mistero che avvolge la donna oggetto di tanta fatale passione.
Le cose sono decisamente migliorate nel finale, grazie all'accelerazione ed al crescendo allucinatorio che trova finalmente sbocco.
Non è un'opera memorabile e non mi ha lasciato il desiderio di leggere altro degli autori, ma ogni tanto l'immersione in un'atmosfera rétro non mi dispiace.
February 27, 2023
هزارتوی سرگیجه آورِ بوالو و نارسژاک در رمان فراموش نشدنیِ "سرگیجه". همه چیز با ملاقاتی ساده شروع می شود. ملاقات ژوینی با فلاوی یر که از او می خواهد به خاطر رفاقت دیرینه شان لطفی در حقش کرده و مراقب زنش باشد؛ چرا که فکر می کند او دیوانه شده است. پیش روی در خواندنِ این رمان به مثابه ی تماشای کنار هم چیده شدن تکه های پازلی است که همان تکه ها هم خود به تکه هایی بسیار ریزتر تبدیل شده اند. و این کاری است که این زوجِ ادبیِ فرانسوی انجام می دهند. خواندنِ این رمان که پایانی غیرقابل پیش بینی داشت، تجربه ای بسیار لذت بخش بود.
July 7, 2011
Well, I may have horrific insomnia, but at least I finally finished this. All I can say is (re)watch the movie instead--Hitchcock did these dudes some *serious* favors, from tightening up, believe it or not, a way heavier handed plot line to preventing you from hating the main character to the point of wishing he'd been the one to fall initially from the church tower. Still cool, I'll begrudgingly admit, to read the source material, but now that I've done it for all of us you needn't bother.
October 25, 2018
Μια από τις σπουδαιότερες ταινίες του Άλφρεντ Χίτσκοκ αλλά και γενικά του παγκόσμιου κινηματογράφου, βασίζεται σε αυτό το μυθιστόρημα του διδύμου Γάλλων συγγραφέων, Πιερ Μπουαλό και Τομά Ναρσεζάκ. Ούτε ξέρω πόσο καιρό το βιβλίο καθόταν και σκονιζόταν παραπονεμένο στην βιβλιοθήκη μου, μέχρι να το διαβάσω τελικά αυτές τις μέρες. Επιτέλους το έκανα, γιατί ήθελα να δω κάποια στιγμή και την ταινία, η οποία και αυτή με περιμένει με παράπονο.
Λοιπόν, πρόκειται για ένα ιδιαίτερα καλογραμμένο, ενδιαφέρον και οπωσδήποτε ατμοσφαιρικό μυθιστόρημα μυστηρίου με σασπένς, εκπλήξεις στην πλοκή και πάρα πολύ καλή σκιαγράφηση των χαρακτήρων. Οι συγγραφείς κατάφεραν να με κάνουν ένα με τον βασικό πρωταγωνιστή και το όλο πάθος του για την μυστηριώδη και με αυτοκτονικές τάσεις (;) γυναίκα, ενώ επίσης κατάφεραν να με κρατήσουν από την αρχή μέχρι το ανατρεπτικό και ιντριγκαδόρικο φινάλε. Σίγουρα υπάρχουν μερικά "κουραστικά" σημεία προς το τέλος, με την όλη μανία του πρωταγωνιστή για την γυναίκα (με το δίκιο του βέβαια), αλλά νομίζω ήταν κάπως απαραίτητα για να κλείσει έτσι δυνατά η όλη ιστορία.
Η γραφή είναι πολύ καλή, ευκολοδιάβαστη και εθιστική, με ρεαλιστικές περιγραφές σκηνικών και καταστάσεων, ενώ και η αποτύπωση των σκέψεων του πρωταγωνιστή είναι σαφώς έντονη. Γενικά πρόκειται για ένα μυθιστόρημα που αξίζει να διαβάσει κανείς γι'αυτό που είναι και γι'αυτά που προσφέρει, και όχι γιατί απλά αποτελεί την βάση για μια από τις σημαντικότερες ταινίες του Χίτσκοκ. Από μόνο του είναι ένα βιβλίο έντονο και ενδιαφέρον, οπωσδήποτε ψυχαγωγικό αλλά και ουσιώδες.
Λοιπόν, πρόκειται για ένα ιδιαίτερα καλογραμμένο, ενδιαφέρον και οπωσδήποτε ατμοσφαιρικό μυθιστόρημα μυστηρίου με σασπένς, εκπλήξεις στην πλοκή και πάρα πολύ καλή σκιαγράφηση των χαρακτήρων. Οι συγγραφείς κατάφεραν να με κάνουν ένα με τον βασικό πρωταγωνιστή και το όλο πάθος του για την μυστηριώδη και με αυτοκτονικές τάσεις (;) γυναίκα, ενώ επίσης κατάφεραν να με κρατήσουν από την αρχή μέχρι το ανατρεπτικό και ιντριγκαδόρικο φινάλε. Σίγουρα υπάρχουν μερικά "κουραστικά" σημεία προς το τέλος, με την όλη μανία του πρωταγωνιστή για την γυναίκα (με το δίκιο του βέβαια), αλλά νομίζω ήταν κάπως απαραίτητα για να κλείσει έτσι δυνατά η όλη ιστορία.
Η γραφή είναι πολύ καλή, ευκολοδιάβαστη και εθιστική, με ρεαλιστικές περιγραφές σκηνικών και καταστάσεων, ενώ και η αποτύπωση των σκέψεων του πρωταγωνιστή είναι σαφώς έντονη. Γενικά πρόκειται για ένα μυθιστόρημα που αξίζει να διαβάσει κανείς γι'αυτό που είναι και γι'αυτά που προσφέρει, και όχι γιατί απλά αποτελεί την βάση για μια από τις σημαντικότερες ταινίες του Χίτσκοκ. Από μόνο του είναι ένα βιβλίο έντονο και ενδιαφέρον, οπωσδήποτε ψυχαγωγικό αλλά και ουσιώδες.
August 29, 2017
I am moving to San Francisco. To prepare for this move I have spent the last few months immersing myself in the history and cultural output of the city, and so it was inevitable that I should find myself watching Hitchcock’s Vertigo, which is based in part on this slim thriller by the French masters Boileau and Narcejac. The story of Vertigo is in a tradition aside from the English puzzle mysteries of Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie, and of the American tradition of crime mysteries from Hammett, Chandler, et al. While there is an atmosphere of suspense an mystery, the story is an exploration of love, loss, identity, obsession, and masculinity. While many of the reviews on this site have focused on the richness of Hitchcock’s classic at the expense of Boileau’s and Narcejac’s source material. But I see tremendous virtues for both; and by comparing them side by side, I can see concentration of the character of San Francisco as it was injected by Hitchcock into his greatest film.
To start, the character of Scottie in the film is the self-conscious Flavieres in the book. While Scottie is a social being, good-natured, and loveable, often in the company of women like his ex-fiancee Midge, Flavieres is a loner, inwardly disparaging of his own sense of self-worth after his failure to follow a suspect onto the roof which resulted in his partner’s death. While Scottie is very candid about his handicap and diagnosis of vertigo, Flavieres is standoffish and embarrassed. He was exempted from the ongoing Second World War as a result of his poor lungs or cowardice, and he feels that embarrassment often as he travels about with Madeline. The wartime backdrop is removed in Hitchcock’s film, and the focus falls more closely on the characters of Scottie and Madeline.
When Flavieres/Scottie are called up by an old friend (Gevigne/Elstir) and shipping magnate to watch his wife, he reluctantly accepts though he is skeptical of the verity of Madeline’s being possessed by the wayward spirit of her dead ancestor (Pauline Lagerlac/Carlotta Valdez). The meanderings of Madeline in both book and film create a profound sense of place for both Paris and San Francisco. While in the book she traverses along the quay and to the Passy cemetery, the film takes her to much more iconic San Franciscan locations: the Mission Dolores cemetery (one of two cemeteries in the city), the Legion of Honour art museum, and Fort Point beneath the Golden Gate Bridge, where she takes her first jump. While Pauline was a troubled French socialite who committed suicide for no apparent reason, Carlotta was a jilted young woman left with a child – a representation of the American exploit of the local Latin/Mexican community in California. While many reviewers found the book’s romance less believable than the movies, I am tempted to disagree. The psychology of Flavieres – never having been in love not ever having had the confidence to approach women, he is suddenly in a position of guardianship and savior to a beautiful young bride of a man of whom he is jealous. Madeline is an empty vessel for his longings and his insecurities, and her seeming helplessness fortifies his diminished sense of masculinity. While Scottie is a troubled man in the film, it does not seem he suffers from a diminished sense of the masculine (for that matter, neither do any of Hitchcock’s male leads). The character of both Madelines is blank, scarcely formed while she is “alive” and our sense of her is inhabited by Scottie’s and Flavieres’s interpretation of her. In the film she is an easel of blank and nervous stares, wide eyes, pristinely coiffed hair, and striking green eyes. In the book she is the lacuna between words and phrases on the page, she is vacant.
The cowardice of Flavieres reaches a fever pitch when Madeline dies and he lies to Gevigne about his attendance at the scene. Perhaps the most poignant moment in the film is the inquisition of Scottie after the jump which forces him to accept her death and admit to his inability to save her. For Flavieres he has never had confidence in his ability to save her, and constantly he has felt her beyond his grasp – not because of his fear of heights but because of her magnetism toward death, and his own cowardice and unmanliness. When he spirits away to Dakar, to escape the encroaching war, Flavieres takes to alcoholism and dissoluteness. He returns four years later to a changed Paris. All the trace of Madeline is gone from the Paris he knew. Pauline Lagerlac’s house put to new purpose. The memory of her death lives alone in the memory of an old woman who discovered her body and the hotel attendant where the Gevignes lived. Madeline’s grave has been destroyed by acts of war, and Gevigne too has been erased, dead. While Flavieres is often in a fog, at turns literal and metaphorical, Scottie’s San Francisco is preternaturally (for the locale) clear-skied – and Scottie’s voyeuristic obsession and later madness is brutally clearsighted.
When the book is stripped away, what remains is Hitchcock’s love letter to San Francisco – a city whose hilly topography and thick matte air lends itself so well to the meandering mystery of Madeline. Whose imperial history lends itself so well to the tragedy of Carlotta. Whose historically seedy underworld lends itself so well to the corrupt motives of the industrialist Elstir. A story which uncovers Hitchcock’s mannered yet mysterious San Francisco: the counterpoint to the rough and seedy Tenderloin of Dashiell Hammett’s San Francisco.
To start, the character of Scottie in the film is the self-conscious Flavieres in the book. While Scottie is a social being, good-natured, and loveable, often in the company of women like his ex-fiancee Midge, Flavieres is a loner, inwardly disparaging of his own sense of self-worth after his failure to follow a suspect onto the roof which resulted in his partner’s death. While Scottie is very candid about his handicap and diagnosis of vertigo, Flavieres is standoffish and embarrassed. He was exempted from the ongoing Second World War as a result of his poor lungs or cowardice, and he feels that embarrassment often as he travels about with Madeline. The wartime backdrop is removed in Hitchcock’s film, and the focus falls more closely on the characters of Scottie and Madeline.
When Flavieres/Scottie are called up by an old friend (Gevigne/Elstir) and shipping magnate to watch his wife, he reluctantly accepts though he is skeptical of the verity of Madeline’s being possessed by the wayward spirit of her dead ancestor (Pauline Lagerlac/Carlotta Valdez). The meanderings of Madeline in both book and film create a profound sense of place for both Paris and San Francisco. While in the book she traverses along the quay and to the Passy cemetery, the film takes her to much more iconic San Franciscan locations: the Mission Dolores cemetery (one of two cemeteries in the city), the Legion of Honour art museum, and Fort Point beneath the Golden Gate Bridge, where she takes her first jump. While Pauline was a troubled French socialite who committed suicide for no apparent reason, Carlotta was a jilted young woman left with a child – a representation of the American exploit of the local Latin/Mexican community in California. While many reviewers found the book’s romance less believable than the movies, I am tempted to disagree. The psychology of Flavieres – never having been in love not ever having had the confidence to approach women, he is suddenly in a position of guardianship and savior to a beautiful young bride of a man of whom he is jealous. Madeline is an empty vessel for his longings and his insecurities, and her seeming helplessness fortifies his diminished sense of masculinity. While Scottie is a troubled man in the film, it does not seem he suffers from a diminished sense of the masculine (for that matter, neither do any of Hitchcock’s male leads). The character of both Madelines is blank, scarcely formed while she is “alive” and our sense of her is inhabited by Scottie’s and Flavieres’s interpretation of her. In the film she is an easel of blank and nervous stares, wide eyes, pristinely coiffed hair, and striking green eyes. In the book she is the lacuna between words and phrases on the page, she is vacant.
The cowardice of Flavieres reaches a fever pitch when Madeline dies and he lies to Gevigne about his attendance at the scene. Perhaps the most poignant moment in the film is the inquisition of Scottie after the jump which forces him to accept her death and admit to his inability to save her. For Flavieres he has never had confidence in his ability to save her, and constantly he has felt her beyond his grasp – not because of his fear of heights but because of her magnetism toward death, and his own cowardice and unmanliness. When he spirits away to Dakar, to escape the encroaching war, Flavieres takes to alcoholism and dissoluteness. He returns four years later to a changed Paris. All the trace of Madeline is gone from the Paris he knew. Pauline Lagerlac’s house put to new purpose. The memory of her death lives alone in the memory of an old woman who discovered her body and the hotel attendant where the Gevignes lived. Madeline’s grave has been destroyed by acts of war, and Gevigne too has been erased, dead. While Flavieres is often in a fog, at turns literal and metaphorical, Scottie’s San Francisco is preternaturally (for the locale) clear-skied – and Scottie’s voyeuristic obsession and later madness is brutally clearsighted.
When the book is stripped away, what remains is Hitchcock’s love letter to San Francisco – a city whose hilly topography and thick matte air lends itself so well to the meandering mystery of Madeline. Whose imperial history lends itself so well to the tragedy of Carlotta. Whose historically seedy underworld lends itself so well to the corrupt motives of the industrialist Elstir. A story which uncovers Hitchcock’s mannered yet mysterious San Francisco: the counterpoint to the rough and seedy Tenderloin of Dashiell Hammett’s San Francisco.
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