Antoine Volodine has been hailed as one of the most innovative and accomplished writers in France today. Compared by critics to Franz Kafka and Lewis Carroll, Volodine weaves an unusual novel of political and psychological intrigue in a lush, exotic setting. The publication of Naming the Jungle marks his American debut and the first translation of his work into English.
Puesto Libertad could be any Latin American city torn by the strife of civil war. In this isolated capital buried in the jungle, the revolutionary secret police have started digging into Fabian Golpiez’s past. In order to avoid brutal torture and interrogation, he decides to feign madness. Led by a local shaman/psychiatrist in a bizarre talking cure, Golpiez must use indigenous names to prove both his innocence and his true Tupi Indian identity. To name is to conquer. He names the monkeys, the plants, and the insects all around him as he names his fear, his paranoia, and his pathologies.
A masterful storyteller, Volodine speaks to us about the slow and fatal agony of revolution in a haunting and intense novel, one of the most dazzling pieces of fiction to come out of France since the early novels of Robbe-Grillet and Duras.
Antoine Volodine is the primary pseudonym of a French author. Some of his books have been published in sf collections, but his style, which he has called "post-exoticism", does not fit neatly into any common genre.
The attraction of crowding together, of sharing one's filth and fear.
This citation is emblematic, although I didn't understand it as such when I first encountered it. Naming the Jungle explores the fungible nature of revolution in an ur-capitol of a surreal somewhat stilted South America. The title refers to a test of sorts employed to see if a madman is in fact sane and a subversive, though it is unclear whether he is for or against the revolution. Read your own Blade Runner interpretation of the practice. In fact, everyone appears dubious in terms of loyalties and/or identities. Compounding this is the deliberate similarity of character names, thus creating doubles and even group multiplicities.
This is unusual by post-exotic standards (which is certainly saying something) in that literature and authors aren't prominent but rather the focus is an oral account, an image of the case history as medium. This interrogation/testimony is conducted by psychiatrist/shaman, who employs both the science and indigenous means to explore the psyche. The novel gradually but inevitably becomes a canoe drifting down a muggy river, the cacophony of the titular jungle in full-throated crescendo. It might not be fun for most but it certainly warrants contemplation.
An early effort from the brain behind the bizarre project to single-handedly create an entire school of literature and theory called post-exoticism. Flavored with some Latin-tinged magical realism, this terse metaphysical thriller tackles the muddled nature of identity, the fetishism of language and cultural authenticity, and the constant political upheaval of South American countries which leads to the never-ending oppression of their peoples. Bergman meets Herzog? Maybe, but with a lot more spiders (caranguejeiras) and alligators (jacares) and female revolutionaries who mutate into giant bats (Google fails me and I didn't think this far ahead before I returned the book--apologies).
Ah, Volodine. Another winner, suffused with the humor, angst, egalitarian commitments, and weirdness of the other books. Shifting perspective keeps you on your toes, and he immerses you well in the physical (moral?) swampiness of the setting. A notch below We Monks & Soldiers and Minor Angels, perhaps, but still well worth exploring. Can't wait for Bardo Or Not Bardo: Roman to come out.
Jacket copy says "Not since Alain Robbe-Grillet and Marguerite Duras..." but I would locate this much closer to Juan Rulfo (especially the unbelievable Pedro Paramo and Jose Donoso's equally phantasmagoric and beautiful The Obscene Bird of Night.
And, if I'm not mistaken, this is the missing missing link between those works and some of Brian Evenson's work (it was Brian Evenson who brought Volodine to my attention, after all).
A dark, weird, suffocating book about a post-revolutionary society set deep in a jungle, where language and the names of things means everything, and where humans live and die and live again, shape shifting into animals or worse, where memory and truth are warped, and the characters invoke the essence of "primeval existence." Sound confusing? It is. But it's also strangely enthralling.
This short novel by the French writer Antoine Volodine came out in the mid1990s and in part deals with French reckoning with both their role within the Cold War but more specifically with their role as fading empire in various parts of the world.
We are witnessing a series of speech acts and interviews in a kind of criminal or political investigation in a former colonial space or more specifically what seems to be an authoritarian context in some kind of South or Central American country.
The person being interviewed is pretending to be psychologically damaged as he weaves his tale to a series of interrogators to avoid the violent consequences he assumes will await him.
In a lot of ways, this feels like the ways in governments and especially Western governments, or more broadly anyone with power attempts to create the narratives around the violence they have created. It’s a very human act and one that even I recognize in myself, narrating reality to suit the psychological result we wish to feel or have as a result of being confronted by the violence we are active participants in or are complicit with. It’s one of those kinds of uncomfortable truths we have to try to reckon with in terms of thinking life ethically. However, what might also be true is that we don’t do these kinds of moves because we ultimately have to live with ourselves and others and always confronting the complexities of these lives we’re living doesn’t allow us to fully comprehend them.