Traces of Ink

by Robert Pinget

Poetry. What can one say of Pinget, as he comes through in Miss Wright's loving translations, except that he conveys, amid much wilful murk, an impression of integrity, intelligence and power? -- John Updike. Having translated thirteen earlier works by Pinget, Barbara Wright has much to say about this important personage of contemporary French letters, and appends a useful afterword to this volume: TRACES OF INK is Robert Pinget's last published book. It came out in the spring of 1997, and was followed that summer by a colloquium in Tours celebrating every aspect of his work; this was a happy, successful occasion which Pinget much enjoyed. Only a month later, though, he had a stroke and died. It is fitting that Pinget's last work is written in a notebook form, his signature genre despite his writing of both novels and plays. Pinget helps us to stay alive and sustain our own enquiry -- Barbara Wright, (Afterword).

71 pages, Paperback

First published November 15, 2000

About the author

Robert Pinget was a Swiss-born French novelist and playwright associated with the nouveau roman movement.

After completing his law studies and working as a lawyer for a year, he moved to Paris in 1946 to study at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts.

In 1951, he published his first novel Entre Fantoine et Agapa. After publishing two other novels, but then having his fourth rejected by Gallimard, Pinget was recommended by Alain Robbe-Grillet and Samuel Beckett to Jérôme Lindon, head of Éditions de Minuit, where he subsequently published Graal flibuste in 1956. Éditions de Minuit became his main publisher.

Scholars and critics have often associated his work with that of his friend Samuel Beckett, who he met in 1955.

(from Wikipedia)

Reviews

[Christopher]

“Words have a life independent of our reason. Playing with them we discover a strange world—which is nevertheless our own.” (34)

This is Pinget’s last published work, and enjoyable though not the best starting point. If I had read his other Monsieur Songe books before this, I bet I would have got more out of it. Nonetheless, poetic aphorism is the form and Pinget is chasing tone. Very beautiful in places…