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.

Death in Venice Part 2

I said I wouldn't write one (because what can I say about this book that hasn't been said???), but here's a MINI review of Death in Venice. I'm going a bit into some of what I'll cover in my future posts about this story (Gus von A as a fallen dandy), but whatever. I don't think anyone is reading this blog yet lol.


In 'Death in Venice', Thomas Mann allows his readers to view a respectable man's descent into madness, into a dark, disturbing obsession where reason and logic have no impact on actions - where passion reigns sovereign... and it's jarring to *witness*.

The story begins with such attention taken to establish the story's protagonist (*Gus von A*) as hyper-disciplined, possessing the utmost aplomb and self-mastery - only to have him come undone as the book progresses.

This is one of those stories where syntax and diction play as much a part in the reader's investment as does the plot itself. Mann's sentences are at first long, and intricate - with far too many dependent clauses (seriously, try to diagram some of these suckers!)... but by the story's end, peppered amongst the ornate are an equal number of staccato phrases (often the protagonist's hurried and ill-considered decisions to act on whim).

I love the art of writing and Mann's style is the equivalent of literary porn. The subject matter isn't lacking scandal either. GREAT read. It's short enough to read quickly, but why rush. Savor it a bit.

Death In Venice Part 1

I just finished Death in Venice by Thomas Mann and loved it! I have so much to say about the story that I've decided to break my entries into sections. This is part one. (Technically, it's part 2 because I posted my thoughts on a quote from the story HERE - so check that out also).

First, a summary: Death in Venice is the story of Gustav von Aschenbach (but I'll be calling him Gus von A), an acclaimed and well-respected German writer, who, in an uncharacteristic departure from his hyper-disciplined lifestyle, becomes obsessed with a beautiful boy named Tadzio while vacationing in Venice.



It seems pointless to review this classic story, so I'll be discussing some of my observations instead, starting with my thoughts on this quote:

“Solitude gives birth to the original in us, to beauty unfamiliar and perilous- to poetry. But also, it gives birth to the opposite: to the perverse, the illicit, the absurd.”

This is the absolute truth, but I can only speak from my own experience. I spend a lot of time alone these days (thanks depression!) and have never been more creative or bizarre in my life. The chance to do heaps of silent sustained reading is plenty to be thankful for, so it's not all bad and I've gotten to know what I'm like when there's no one else around, when I don't have to answer to anyone's expectations. A descent into madness isn't out of the realm of possibility though (ha!).

Montaigne's On Idleness has something to say about this and it's very similar to Mann's description of Gus von A's isolation and its effects on his mind:

"I find... like a runaway horse, [the mind] is a hundred times more active on its own behalf than ever it was for others. It presents me with so many chimeras and imaginary monsters, one after another, without order or plan, that, in order to contemplate their oddness and absurdity at leisure, I have begun to record them in writing, hoping in time to make my mind ashamed of them."

Which is why I write as much as I do. Montaigne's Essays are the most honest and articulate exploration of character and personality I've ever come across (which is why we're still talking about them over 500 years later) and as I read of his epiphanies and moments of self-discovery I often find myself nodding in agreement. The same was true of my reaction to parts of Death in Venice.

When literature is truly universal, which all great literature is, any reader can see his or her self reflected in its words. The passing of 500 years, the separating distance of an ocean and several nations, a difference in sexual orientation, race, gender, ethnicity and language proves no hindrance to the power or poignancy of a great story.

That's all for now.

Part 2 - Tadzio is to Gus von A as Dorian Gray is to Basil Hallward.
Part 3 - Gus von A as a fallen dandy (as defined by dandyism.net).
Part 4 - "Who shall unriddle the puzzle of the artist nature?"
Part 5 - Death in Venice: on the page and beyond (on: the real Tadzio, Rufus Wainwright's Grey Gardens, the movie adaption, and mythological allusions).

the best of the two

Right now, I'm reading 'Death in Venice' by Thomas Mann (because one of my favorite songs is 'Grey Gardens' by Rufus Wainwright - in it he alludes to the character Tadzio from the short story, so I figured I'd read it and appreciate the song THAT MUCH MORE) and a few of Montaigne's Essays (because I've wanted to read 'The Mystery Guest' by Gregoire Bouillier for some time and in more than a few of its reviews, Montaigne is mentioned in reference to Bouillier's narrative honesty) and both are AMAZING so far.


There are so many kernels of truth in Montaigne's writing that I won't even bother making a list - but I will say that it's hard to tell that his essays were written in the 16th century. They're an exploration of his true character and I think it's safe to say that not much has changed about the human experience or psyche in 500 years. Montaigne seems so modern (and often so humorous and frank) because he holds nothing back from himself or his readers and that's refreshing to read - to this day.

"Hardly anything stirs in me that is secret or hidden from my reason; hardly anything takes place that has not the consent of every part of me, without divisions and without inner rebellion. My judgment takes the complete credit or the complete blame for my actions; and once it takes the blame it keeps it forever."

That quote from Montaigne sums up what each essay is like. He's putting his beliefs and personality on trial and baring himself for all to see - the best and the worst of who he is.


But that's not why I made this post. I wanted to talk about a quote from 'Death in Venice' that describes the wide appeal of the main character, the fictional author Gustav Aschenbach's, work (he's a writer).

"Remote on one hand from the banal, on the other from the eccentric, his genius was calculated to win at once the adhesion of the general public and the admiration, both sympathetic and stimulating, of the connoisseur."

Well, THAT must be nice (lol)!!! Literature that can be appreciated by the critics and the average Joe.... to call literature so widely satisfactory RARE would be beyond euphemistic. I recently went on several psycho-babbles about Trend Literature and how some of the books I was choosing were "not so much ‘compelling’ as ‘enslaving’" - and it's nice to see that a writer, even if he's fictional, has managed to gain commercial success while remaining substantive and 'literary' (whatever 'literary' means....).

I wrote an ode to hip hop a few years ago, I think when I was a senior in H.S., with the lines, "...your swag is bad. I know you'd pass the test in the 'hood./You're credible with intellectuals - the best of the two./That's why I'm messing with you. You've got skills..." - and though I was 17 at the time and writing about the kind of music I then liked, (hip hop with lots of metaphors) that's also what I want to read a lot of the time. I read for the beauty of the writing - some people like to stare at paintings for hours on end. I can read the same artfully phrased sentence or startlingly accurate and insightful descriptive passage over and over and over and marvel at how the writer could ever craft something so wonderful or poignant (or in some cases pithy - it was Nietzsche's “ambition to say in 10 sentences what others say in a whole book," but most of us aren't there yet lol) from scratch.

And because I ultimately want to be a (successful? talented?) writer - and am so conscious of what I like and don't like in what I read, this quote from 'Death in Venice' stuck out immediately. I can imagine that many writers wrestle with this concept - though it's easy to just say you'll write for the sake of your writing and not care about commercial success or critical acclaim. But what's the point of that? Is it wrong to want the best of the two?

...though I feel a bit presumptuous for assuming I'll ever acheive one or the other - seeing as I've yet written nothing to submit to either court of approval - save a short story or three (and the occasional poem) I've posted here....