The Mystery Guest by Grégoire Bouillier Part 1

EDIT: Finished the Book. HOW WRONG COULD I HAVE BEEN????



I'm just starting a new book, The Mystery Guest by Grégoire Bouillier, and I've already some qualms.

So far, what I know of the plot seems promising and the rhythm is pleasant, but there's something ELSE going on....

The Mystery Guest reads like a story being recounted aloud and I read French well enough to have garnered upon comparison that it's the not the fault the English translation. I was afraid that this would be another 'On The Road' - written incidentally as a continuous stream of consciousness with a lax, free-association influenced story structure, each thought or memory triggering the next, the reader frequently taken on amusing tangents along the way (and the tangents are abundant, as are idioms and colloquialisms "as they say"). Boullier's narrative has also in common with Kerouac's its basis in reality; both books blur the line that separates memoir from fiction. But this story has among it's draws, a lyrical rhythm - whereas 'On The Road' bares the telltale mark of certain American fiction: a jumpy cadence.

The rhythm was never the source of my hesitance though. My issue is more with the careless use of tiring and inappropriate idioms:

"...I was fast asleep and at my most vulnerable, my least up to answering the phone, when IN A WORD I was completely incapable of appreciating this miracle for what it was..."

"in a word" <--- This phrase makes no sense here because the following description of the speaker's state of mind is 10 words, rather than 1 word, long. Because this is a translation, there were three possibilities for this lackadaisical error:

1. It was the doing of the author.
2. It was the doing of the translator.
3. It's a device to characterize the emotionally distressed and neurotic narrator.

I was hoping for the third, but unfortunately, it's the translator's fault.

The original reads: "...j'ètais le plus dèmuni et le moins susceptible de rèpondre à son appel et même dans l'incapacitè la plus totale d'en èprouver la miracle." Nowhere does the literal or colloquial equivalent of "in a word" (en un mot/parole) appear. Literally the phrase in question would translate to "yet in the most total inability to experience the miracle."


I'm hesitant to read on from this point because I'm experiencing this book through the lens of someone else's understanding and interpretation of the original text. Audio books, for the same reason, don't appeal to me (being burdened and imposed upon by a stranger's inflections and intonations is no fun). Unfortunately, I can't read French well enough to fully digest, decode, interpret, and analyze an entire book the way I'd like... So I'm forced into a purgatory between languages and will refer to both versions as necessary.

I'll post a full review when I'm done with the book.

Onward I tread.

book guilt and frustration

I feel bad when I don't finish a book; it's a terrible feeling - like leaving your dog outside in the cold overnight (WHICH I'D NEVER DO!) and not coming back to get her - EVER.

So excruciating was the decision not to finish Awesome: a novel by Jack Pendarvis. I love urban fantasy movies and literature, so when I read reviews about the humourous tale of fabled giant making his way across the country to win back his true love, I thought, HEY - THIS IS RIGHT UP MY ALLEY!

Unfortunately, that was not the case. I can imagine that this book would be very funny for some people. I am not one of those people - and it's not the fault of the author and the book is not a poor(ly written) one. Awesome is written in a voice and style that I can appreciate, but can't relate to on any level.

The protagonist is a megalomaniacal giant, the eponymous Awesome, that I couldn't force myself to like or care about. His world of obligation was limited solely to himself, which made it difficult to invest my interest as a reader in his interactions with the other characters.

It also didn't help that the reviews I read were completely inaccurate. The book was described as 'cute' several times; while whimsical, cute, the book was definitely not. If I had to label it - I might call the genre Adult Whimsy (which, if you think about it, doesn't make sense because only adults are aware of the concept of 'whimsy' anyway. Children express, and if I remember correctly, sometimes perceive the mundane and the whimsical interchangeably and with equal conviction - which must be nice - so there's no suspension of disbelief required for them to become lost in fantasy. But I digress.) - or maybe Adult-THEMED Whimsy.

There's lot of talk of ejaculation and bodily fluids, which isn't what I was expecting. I'm not opposed to toilet humor but it didn't seem to serve a purpose in Awesome. There were some parts so ridiculous that I couldn't help but laugh - but they were few and far between for me. That said, I DO think Pendarvis has succeeded in creating challenging prose; I think it was too unconventional for my taste, which is difficult for me to swallow.

I felt like I was a slave to the book and was only continuing to read it because I had began it.... so I stopped (the only other books I can remember not finishing are Marley & Me - because I only starting reading it to waste time at the laundromat and was reading another book at the same time - and The Maytrees by Annie Dillard - which I was conned into returning to the library. I went in to renew it and someone else had it on hold so they took it from me. I have it on hold again now). The book just wasn't for me. I have a feeling it's more of a cult-following thing.


Anywho - I'm reading On the Road by Jack Kerouac now - which I'm enjoying so far. I had wanted to read it for a while. Next I'm on to The Mystery Guest by Grégoire Bouillier.... which has a trailer. I love creative marketing.

On the Road by Jack Kerouac

I just finished On the Road by Jack Kerouac. I don't think it has EVER taken me this long to finish a book. I've been reading it for over a month.

AND I DIDN'T LOVE IT – AT ALL. But I want to qualify that sentiment.

I didn't feel like aim of this book was a literary one. It's more about documentation – of Kerouac's experiences with Neal Cassady (in the book each are represented by the narrator Sal Paradise and Dean Moriatry respectively) and of the experiences of young people in America at the time – a documentation of the collective consciousness of the country's disillusioned youth. In that way, it's definitely significant historically and culturally.

It spoke in a new voice, with a new cadence, at a new rhythm – fast paced, wild – MAD.

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!"

The above quote pretty much sums up the entire feeling of the book in manner and matter. It's written wildly and it focuses on the uninhibited BEAT generation.

None of this seems revolutionary to us now – but if you think of these people and characters in the context of the buttoned up times of the late 40s and early 50s, it becomes positively sinful and seductive – it becomes a new trend and era. We know that now, but at the time, this book CREATED (or labeled?) an era, a movement – something that could be pointed to, admired, aspired to, and duplicated.

I appreciate that - I get it - but as a standalone piece of literature On the Road wasn't for me. I know that's an unpopular opinion, but had I read this book unaware of its importance and context, I would have honestly regretted reading it (which sounds harsher than the way I intend it – so let me explain).

The books I enjoy are written deliberately, carefully – with care given to word choice, syntax, turns of phrase… I love the craft of writing - and the literature I love is artful, though not self-conscious. 'On the Road' was the exact opposite – everything seemed incidental. I felt like the novel's action was captured as it happened (which I know isn't true. The entire book was written during a 3 week caffeine binge on a seamless scroll) and we, the readers, were scrambling (as the narrator Sal does after Dean) to keep up with the momentum of the machine.

Jane Austen comments on the condition from which Kerouac and his narrator seem to suffer in her novel (one of my favorites), Pride and Prejudice; Mr. Bingley says (while at the equivalent of an Austen era kickback):

"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them…" to which Mr. Darcy replies, "The indirect boast; for you are really proud of your defects in writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution, which, if not estimable, you think at least highly interesting. The power of doing anything with quickness is always prized much by the possessor, and often without any attention to the imperfection of the performance."

That pretty much sums up how I feel about 'On the Road'. Jack Kerouac himself is quoted as having said, "My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them".

But it all makes perfect sense (so was it deliberate?). The characters in the book are spontaneous, haphazard and MAD, always in pursuit and on the move (on the road…) – so if this book was written with too much structure, too much order or attention to consequence it would have felt terribly, terribly wrong.

So I can't say I HATED On the Road - it just isn't my kind of novel. I'm only one person and these just happen to be my reading preferences. I've wanted to read this book for a while. Now I have. Back to regular programming. Up next are 'The Mystery Guest', 'Revolutionary Road', and 'The Age of Innocence'.

Favorite quotes (that weren't already mentioned):

"I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion."

"Everything happened."

"He could hardly get a word out, he was so excited with life."

"He's never hung up, he goes every direction, he lets it all out, he know time, he has nothing to do but rock back and forth. Man, he's the end!"

yea... the whole book is like that.