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Les messagers
― J'ai un message à vous remettre.
Il a sorti le tube de la musette. Il le pose sur le bureau. Le vieillard secoue la tête.
― Non, pas à moi. Mon équipage et moi ne sommes là que pour vous mener plus loin.
― Où ?
― De l'autre côté de la mer, en un certain port où l'on vous attend, peut-être enfin pour recevoir votre message et lui donner telle suite dont j'ignore tout, peut-être pour vous conduire encore plus loin, je n'en sais rien, ce n'est pas mon affaire.
― Mais je ne suis pas le messager ! Il ne m'a même pas confié cet étui, je l'ai pris sur lui à sa mort. Je vous l'apporte et voilà tout !
― Il faut vous faire à cette idée, pourtant : vous êtes le messager, désormais. Allons, ne vous énervez pas, vous êtes épuisé. Allez dormir, on va vous montrer votre cabine. Reprenez cet étui. Vous, marin, conduisez le messager à sa cabine, et prévenez l'équipage, nous appareillons.
L'adolescent sort à la suite du marin. Ils s'enfoncent ensemble dans les profondeurs du navire. Tout autour d'eux, l'eau grise bat la coque.
Il a sorti le tube de la musette. Il le pose sur le bureau. Le vieillard secoue la tête.
― Non, pas à moi. Mon équipage et moi ne sommes là que pour vous mener plus loin.
― Où ?
― De l'autre côté de la mer, en un certain port où l'on vous attend, peut-être enfin pour recevoir votre message et lui donner telle suite dont j'ignore tout, peut-être pour vous conduire encore plus loin, je n'en sais rien, ce n'est pas mon affaire.
― Mais je ne suis pas le messager ! Il ne m'a même pas confié cet étui, je l'ai pris sur lui à sa mort. Je vous l'apporte et voilà tout !
― Il faut vous faire à cette idée, pourtant : vous êtes le messager, désormais. Allons, ne vous énervez pas, vous êtes épuisé. Allez dormir, on va vous montrer votre cabine. Reprenez cet étui. Vous, marin, conduisez le messager à sa cabine, et prévenez l'équipage, nous appareillons.
L'adolescent sort à la suite du marin. Ils s'enfoncent ensemble dans les profondeurs du navire. Tout autour d'eux, l'eau grise bat la coque.
86 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1974
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
April 13, 2025
First published in France in 1974 and heavily revised in 1989 (and only now released in English), this tale of a boy drifting through various rural towns in an unnamed country has a rather dreamlike pastoral vibe that soon becomes nightmare-like once he encounters the messenger, a mysterious man who takes the boy under his wing as they attempt to deliver a message sealed in a tube. This task has been ongoing for as long as the messenger can remember. Nothing is known about what the message entails or who the recipient is, only that it must be delivered, and so the two set out, following clues and committing the occasional atrocity while doing so.
There are no chapter breaks here — each event follows the one before in a constant stream that almost feels like a single day and night, and while I never really felt connected to our protagonists or their mission, the vaguely sinister, unsettling atmosphere in the latter half won me over. There were also a couple bizarrely disturbing scenes — one taking place in a mansion’s basement that doubles as some sort of labyrinthine dungeon, another an endless grotesque ball/orgy hidden within a crumbling and seemingly abandoned bordello— where the imagery will stick with me for a while.
Readers who need a meaty plot and relatable characters probably need not apply, but those who like to settle in for a night of strangeness and bewilderment in the vein of Hans Henny Jahnn, David Wheldon, or Châteaureynaud’s fellow French (and Wakefield Press) authors like Marcel Béalu and Marcel Brion will likely find much to appreciate here.
There are no chapter breaks here — each event follows the one before in a constant stream that almost feels like a single day and night, and while I never really felt connected to our protagonists or their mission, the vaguely sinister, unsettling atmosphere in the latter half won me over. There were also a couple bizarrely disturbing scenes — one taking place in a mansion’s basement that doubles as some sort of labyrinthine dungeon, another an endless grotesque ball/orgy hidden within a crumbling and seemingly abandoned bordello— where the imagery will stick with me for a while.
Readers who need a meaty plot and relatable characters probably need not apply, but those who like to settle in for a night of strangeness and bewilderment in the vein of Hans Henny Jahnn, David Wheldon, or Châteaureynaud’s fellow French (and Wakefield Press) authors like Marcel Béalu and Marcel Brion will likely find much to appreciate here.
April 6, 2025
An unnamed lad walks into a rural village as night falls (“not … from above so much as seep from the trees and thin in the air like a cloud of ink in a glass of water”), where he meets a young woman, hunchbacked with one bad eye, who tells the young man to follow her but keep silent. They come to a clearing by a farmhouse where a party of food and music is underway. The woman takes the lad to an outbuilding where she lives and tells him to stay there: she will return with food and drink, but he must remain hidden: The revelers outside aren’t always welcoming to strangers.
He does as she says, looking out a top window onto the festivities. The young woman returns with food and drink and offers to share her bed and body with the boy, a virgin uninterested in fornicating with a hunchback. He leaves her and wanders around the village, creeping into houses to look around in the dark. Everyone seems asleep, passed out drunk. In one of the houses, he follows a woman to her bedroom and enters the room.
Once the woman begins screaming, the boy runs from the small town with its villagers in pursuit. After a few hours of chase into the dawn, he collapses, eventually waking midday to find himself in a field, watched by an old woman who at first thinks he’s just sleeping off a drinking jag and leads him to a well where he can clean himself and freshen up. Once she recognizes the kerchief the boy uses to wipe blood from his wounds as belonging to the lady of the house he escaped from, she and the boy get into an altercation. He throws the woman into the well, headfirst and continues his journey. Hours later, he meets a man on a wagon, who tells the boy to join him, that he’s on his way to deliver a message where he and the boy will be fed.
At the house—a mansion—the man (also nameless) introduces the boy as his “honorable aide,” and feasting commences, with a large party already going on. During the party, the boy meets a girl, who encourages him to follow her downstairs—a long decent down to a series of dimly lit cages where prisoners and feral animals are kept. The girl wants to play a prank on a friend of hers, which goes badly for both girls, and the boy runs back upstairs, certain that the girl’s father will have him beaten and imprisoned.
Back upstairs, the boy rejoins the messenger. The messenger has no idea what his message is about or who is recipient is supposed to be. He knows only that he has been set on this single task for decades. Once he feels that the person whose house he came to is no longer of use to him, he encourages the boy to help him burn down the house, locking its occupants inside.
And so the two go, man and boy, from one stop to another, receiving information about where to go next—either to finally deliver the message, let somebody know the message is on its way, or be told where to go next, then destroying what they’ve left behind. Although the dank air of mystery, unease, and decadence pervades their travels and stops, imbuing the travel with Sadean cruelty and murder, Poe’s influence on Châteaureynaud is greater here than Kafka, both writers that Châteaureynaud has been likened to. Kafka was more interested in the gnostic maze of bureaucracy and social etiquette than in gratuitous, whimsical nastiness. And The Messangers has something to it of lore or forgotten ghost stories, a living hell of a cycle passed down from one generation to another.
For more of my reviews, please see https://www.thebookbeat.com/backroom/...
He does as she says, looking out a top window onto the festivities. The young woman returns with food and drink and offers to share her bed and body with the boy, a virgin uninterested in fornicating with a hunchback. He leaves her and wanders around the village, creeping into houses to look around in the dark. Everyone seems asleep, passed out drunk. In one of the houses, he follows a woman to her bedroom and enters the room.
Once the woman begins screaming, the boy runs from the small town with its villagers in pursuit. After a few hours of chase into the dawn, he collapses, eventually waking midday to find himself in a field, watched by an old woman who at first thinks he’s just sleeping off a drinking jag and leads him to a well where he can clean himself and freshen up. Once she recognizes the kerchief the boy uses to wipe blood from his wounds as belonging to the lady of the house he escaped from, she and the boy get into an altercation. He throws the woman into the well, headfirst and continues his journey. Hours later, he meets a man on a wagon, who tells the boy to join him, that he’s on his way to deliver a message where he and the boy will be fed.
At the house—a mansion—the man (also nameless) introduces the boy as his “honorable aide,” and feasting commences, with a large party already going on. During the party, the boy meets a girl, who encourages him to follow her downstairs—a long decent down to a series of dimly lit cages where prisoners and feral animals are kept. The girl wants to play a prank on a friend of hers, which goes badly for both girls, and the boy runs back upstairs, certain that the girl’s father will have him beaten and imprisoned.
Back upstairs, the boy rejoins the messenger. The messenger has no idea what his message is about or who is recipient is supposed to be. He knows only that he has been set on this single task for decades. Once he feels that the person whose house he came to is no longer of use to him, he encourages the boy to help him burn down the house, locking its occupants inside.
And so the two go, man and boy, from one stop to another, receiving information about where to go next—either to finally deliver the message, let somebody know the message is on its way, or be told where to go next, then destroying what they’ve left behind. Although the dank air of mystery, unease, and decadence pervades their travels and stops, imbuing the travel with Sadean cruelty and murder, Poe’s influence on Châteaureynaud is greater here than Kafka, both writers that Châteaureynaud has been likened to. Kafka was more interested in the gnostic maze of bureaucracy and social etiquette than in gratuitous, whimsical nastiness. And The Messangers has something to it of lore or forgotten ghost stories, a living hell of a cycle passed down from one generation to another.
For more of my reviews, please see https://www.thebookbeat.com/backroom/...
October 3, 2025
This Wakefield Press is just terrific. This had me thinking up until the end. Loved.
4.5 ⭐️
4.5 ⭐️
May 18, 2025
Very good cards-on-the-table pastiche of Kafka, a kind of rhapsody on An Imperial Message. If this is your thing, you'll enjoy this book. This is very much my thing, and so I enjoyed myself. The middle third of the book works particularly well, the scene at the mansion during the party and what unfolds in the basement/dungeon/cattery particularly recalled Franz at his best-- the bizarre, naive cruelty his characters are capable of. It gets bogged down a bit in the final stretch losing its pacing as the strangeness of the first two acts settles down into the third act set-piece that feels vague and a bit tired leading to a pretty predictable conclusion in its overcooked closing pages. Nevertheless, until then, the writing is sumptuous and effective and absolutely worth reading for fans of the GOAT.
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April 25, 2025Written in lyrical prose, The Messengers is like a typical Kafka short story about the crushing weight of existence stretched out to novella-length with all the humor removed and all the dark, underlying horrors of humanity brought up to the surface. Both the aimless youth and the determined messenger have developed an apathy toward society and their fellow man that leads them to enact terrible acts of violence—not out of malice, but unflinching resourcefulness. What does any of it matter? Despite their differing paths, both are ultimately slaves to fate—it's inescapable; it's cruel.
I shouldn't have read this on a gloomy, overcast day. Chateaureynaud's vision of the world is cold and depressing. Though only ~130 pages, the novella manages to reveal every degenerate quality of human behavior on the protagonists' breathless journey to damnation in search of Purpose.
I shouldn't have read this on a gloomy, overcast day. Chateaureynaud's vision of the world is cold and depressing. Though only ~130 pages, the novella manages to reveal every degenerate quality of human behavior on the protagonists' breathless journey to damnation in search of Purpose.
May 9, 2025
Finally, an answer to: What if Krasznahorkai wrote ‘The Road’?
May 3, 2025
I don't think a star or number rating really encapsulates my feelings towards this book, which are decidedly ambiguous, maybe even a little ambivalent, but nonetheless intrigued, maybe even fascinated. The four star rating really doesn't mean anything at all, at least for this book which I felt so mysterious to evade any conventional scoring system.
It's a meandering narrative of various escapades that the two characters of the story partake in, a naïve and frantic youth with no real roots and a middle-aged man who is a messenger supposed to deliver some important message; of what the message entails and to whom it is to be delivered to is never elucidated upon; in fact, this whole narrative is draped in the veil of ambiguity, only presenting to the reader these lurid, dreamy images without names (in fact, I think there's two major named things in this story though I could be wrong). Coming along with all of this are a lot of violent episodes, some of it gruesome and grotesque like the best of all weird stories paired with some fine ornate Gothic energy, others sometimes slapstick and borderline hilarious, if cruel, reminding me a lot of dark comedies with the rather windy and verbose dialogue interspersing the violence. Of course and with all great ambiguous stories of the fantastic, there are wonderful descriptions of nature and phenomena; there were also lovely lines and passages that took place in buildings, often with this theme of chiaroscuro, harkening to plenty of paintings of unsettling gothic buildings. And I'll have to say that while reading this, I wasn't really sure how I felt about it but as I got to the ending, I felt strangely haunted by the eerie, ghostly mythology that pervades The Messengers, helped by the lack of names and settled backgrounds, let alone distinct character psychology that is often absent or rather implicit (implicitly part of the central mechanism that works in these stories) in the narrative; and I'd describe myself as someone who doesn't necessarily need long laborious descriptions of the mind processes of characters, sometimes I find it richer when that is left out and everything is subtly revealed in the simple, physical actions of the characters. Another thing to note, that one reviewer has already mentioned here is that there are no chapter breaks, so reading this is quite brisk and it almost feels like the narrative takes place within a single night or day despite it obviously being more.
I hate to say this also, feeling the urge to fight against calling everything that overused rigmarole of a word for easy references, Kafkaesque, but I was reminded of Kafka certainly, with shades of other authors such as Poe (whatnot with the dilapidated buildings and grey atmosphere) obviously in reference to the very short story of his, A Message for the Emperor (or The Imperial Message) which describes the seemingly labyrinthine nature of the task of the messenger.
I'd also like to add the insignificant thought that I really loved every time it rained, it truly captured that rainy atmosphere that I loved so much, misty and ghostly, burdensome, exposing our nakedness to the world.
In conclusion: a thoroughly grey and rainy narrative, one that has some ghost hanging over it the whole time, permeating it with this mysterious and mournful energy. Props to Edward Gauvin for his translation and I hope that more Châteaureynaud is translated and published! Les faculté des songes seems very fascinating! I also have to continue the rest of the stories in A Life on Paper.
It's a meandering narrative of various escapades that the two characters of the story partake in, a naïve and frantic youth with no real roots and a middle-aged man who is a messenger supposed to deliver some important message; of what the message entails and to whom it is to be delivered to is never elucidated upon; in fact, this whole narrative is draped in the veil of ambiguity, only presenting to the reader these lurid, dreamy images without names (in fact, I think there's two major named things in this story though I could be wrong). Coming along with all of this are a lot of violent episodes, some of it gruesome and grotesque like the best of all weird stories paired with some fine ornate Gothic energy, others sometimes slapstick and borderline hilarious, if cruel, reminding me a lot of dark comedies with the rather windy and verbose dialogue interspersing the violence. Of course and with all great ambiguous stories of the fantastic, there are wonderful descriptions of nature and phenomena; there were also lovely lines and passages that took place in buildings, often with this theme of chiaroscuro, harkening to plenty of paintings of unsettling gothic buildings. And I'll have to say that while reading this, I wasn't really sure how I felt about it but as I got to the ending, I felt strangely haunted by the eerie, ghostly mythology that pervades The Messengers, helped by the lack of names and settled backgrounds, let alone distinct character psychology that is often absent or rather implicit (implicitly part of the central mechanism that works in these stories) in the narrative; and I'd describe myself as someone who doesn't necessarily need long laborious descriptions of the mind processes of characters, sometimes I find it richer when that is left out and everything is subtly revealed in the simple, physical actions of the characters. Another thing to note, that one reviewer has already mentioned here is that there are no chapter breaks, so reading this is quite brisk and it almost feels like the narrative takes place within a single night or day despite it obviously being more.
I hate to say this also, feeling the urge to fight against calling everything that overused rigmarole of a word for easy references, Kafkaesque, but I was reminded of Kafka certainly, with shades of other authors such as Poe (whatnot with the dilapidated buildings and grey atmosphere) obviously in reference to the very short story of his, A Message for the Emperor (or The Imperial Message) which describes the seemingly labyrinthine nature of the task of the messenger.
I'd also like to add the insignificant thought that I really loved every time it rained, it truly captured that rainy atmosphere that I loved so much, misty and ghostly, burdensome, exposing our nakedness to the world.
In conclusion: a thoroughly grey and rainy narrative, one that has some ghost hanging over it the whole time, permeating it with this mysterious and mournful energy. Props to Edward Gauvin for his translation and I hope that more Châteaureynaud is translated and published! Les faculté des songes seems very fascinating! I also have to continue the rest of the stories in A Life on Paper.
June 3, 2025
Looking over the Wakefield Press books I’ve read I was surprised to see that I’ve literally only rated two of them four stars or higher. Despite this, Wakefield has become one of my favorite publishers. It’s just so clear that they genuinely love their literary niche, and that they care deeply about making a bunch of books available to the English speaking world that might otherwise never be. It’s also clear that they utilize translators that are not only competent in terms of language, but that are subject-matter experts on the authors they translate. Every Wakefield Press book, even if I didn’t personally care for it, is a gift.
The Messengers is one of their more recent gifts, and it did not blow me away, but I’m happy to have read it nevertheless. It is one of those surreal tales where one strange sequence bleeds into another unsettling event, which in turn leads to some other bizarre scene, all of which feel closer to a dream than reality. In other words, it is the type of tale epitomized by Kafka, and used to great effect by authors ranging from Dino Buzzati to Kōbō Abe to Michael Cisco. You can find other examples of this type of work also published by Wakefield as well in the form of The Impersonal Adventure by Marcel Béalu. What novelty does author Georges-Olivier Châteaureynaud add to the subgenre? Not very much, as far as I could tell.
It’s not bad by any means, but The Messengers feels like a typical version of this type of story. None of its pieces were standouts, but the book benefits from the fact that the opening pages centering around the feast and the final pages in the rain are the best parts of the work. Edward Gauvin’s translation of Châteaureynaud’s prose is solid throughout, and at times quite atmospheric. The translator’s note giving more context to Châteaureynaud’s work is also edifying. I wish that The Messengers had done something more to distinguish itself, but it is what it is.
Another 3/5 rating for this one, something to read once you've run out of Kafka. I’m happy it’s now accessible in English.
The Messengers is one of their more recent gifts, and it did not blow me away, but I’m happy to have read it nevertheless. It is one of those surreal tales where one strange sequence bleeds into another unsettling event, which in turn leads to some other bizarre scene, all of which feel closer to a dream than reality. In other words, it is the type of tale epitomized by Kafka, and used to great effect by authors ranging from Dino Buzzati to Kōbō Abe to Michael Cisco. You can find other examples of this type of work also published by Wakefield as well in the form of The Impersonal Adventure by Marcel Béalu. What novelty does author Georges-Olivier Châteaureynaud add to the subgenre? Not very much, as far as I could tell.
It’s not bad by any means, but The Messengers feels like a typical version of this type of story. None of its pieces were standouts, but the book benefits from the fact that the opening pages centering around the feast and the final pages in the rain are the best parts of the work. Edward Gauvin’s translation of Châteaureynaud’s prose is solid throughout, and at times quite atmospheric. The translator’s note giving more context to Châteaureynaud’s work is also edifying. I wish that The Messengers had done something more to distinguish itself, but it is what it is.
Another 3/5 rating for this one, something to read once you've run out of Kafka. I’m happy it’s now accessible in English.
December 15, 2025
Parable like and, yes, kafkaesque, about an adolescent boy vagabonding across a nameless country who meets up with “the messenger,” an older man who has been carrying a message for decades from one place to another. Each place gives him directions to the next. Meanwhile, the journey from place to place takes on a fantastical, dream like state. The boy and the messenger commit various deceptions and murders some related to the quest others not. The imperative to deliver the message (which is sealed in a tube and has never been read) overrides all moral considerations.
December 26, 2025
It's solid and the imagery is often striking, particularly the descriptions of people and environments. However, none of it, including the protagonists, ever stick around long enough to develop any depth -- it all seems rather disconnected. Even the dreamlike quality of its logic isn't explored enough to make me really think about it. I also found it somewhat unoriginal, everything plays out as I thought it would, nothing really surprised me. However, I do think I got something worthwhile out of it, I at least enjoyed reading it.
July 5, 2025
This was amazing. It follows this "youth" who's just a drifter walking forward passing by different towns and cities without purpose or a goal. He meets different and strange people and encounters trouble often.
October 26, 2025
Excellent! That sounds little is explained is water in a desert; honey on the tongue; a big toe suckled. Mmmm.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews