Je suis arrivée tard, il n'y a presque plus personne ici, et la salle est calme comme si l'on venait de couper la musique.
Maylis de Kerangal, Canoes
I arrive too late, there is hardly anyone left, and the room is so quiet, as if the music had just been turned off.
Variations of the same, such as the sestines. 1 in the works of the Troubadours, Dante, Petrarch and Roubaud, by using identical rhyming words (so notti, stile, pianto, death in Petrarch's double sestin 2The position of the next stanza is reversed according to a fixed order, and its meaning is maximally altered; this variation is poetic because it draws attention to aesthetic form and diminishes the narrative. Musical form and literature inherently possess a unity in lyric poetry. Structural listening is one of the criteria in Adorno's hierarchy of Music listeners, which is only fully available to the expert; 3 According to Adorno's intellectualist-elitist conception, these structures remain inaccessible to emotional or resentful listeners. This is where literature comes into play, with the contrast between structural-analytical reading and holistic comprehension.
The reception of Canoes works with the author's more than just acoustic, rather anthropological resonance images: "In Maylis de Kerangal's writing there is always such a fresh breath, such a driving impulse, such a spectrum of vibrations and tonalities that the format of the novel seems to be the minimal space for its unfolding." 4 The “musiques-fiction” collection, founded in 2020 by Ircam (Institut de recherche et coordination acoustique-musique), has brought several contemporary female authors, including Lydie Salvaire, Marie NDiaye, Annie Ernaux and Maylis Kerangal, to music, and Kerangal’s last book Canoes This project of music-fiction is the opposite: “to give literature back its oral, corporeal part, […] to give each text its own voice, a true and unique voice, an irreplaceable voice […]” 5 And in an afterword to her book, Kerangal emphasizes what I would call a literary in-depth history of the pandemic:
In Mars 2020, even though it is written on the human voice, the voices on the surface are different from the masks, and the voices are filled with filters, parasites, and so on: the vibrations are modified and an ensemble of recitations apris form.
Maylis de Kerangal, Canoes
When I began writing about the human voice in March 2020, mouths suddenly disappeared beneath masks, and voices were filtered, parasitized, veiled: their vibrations changed, and a collection of narratives took shape.
Content
Pinget selon un rythme fixe
One of the established text-music relationships is the shaping of a specific musical genre, such as Roger Laporte's fugue (1970), which stands for dux and comes, for polyphony and its literary equivalence. The passacaglia form, as a variation form from the Baroque period, like the chaconne, builds tension through the constant repetition of the basso ostinato, in order to push the freedoms of variation all the further on this fixed foundation, as enigmatically as in Robert Pinget's book. Passacaille (1969), dance-like as in the Passacaglia from Lully's Acis et Galatée:
Within a poetics of the Nouveau Roman, Robert Pinget chooses the passacaglia, whose structural principle reflects the linguistic material and allows it to be repeated according to a "fixed rhythm"; but the disruption of the order repeatedly and unmistakably comes to the fore:
The book opens after the café and ponds on the page of souvenirs, remember the story, after lunch, the daily meal, for this menu item, the resource, when you have a good meal with the soup, monsieur is waiting, you have a fixed rhythm, phrases that reviennent du déluge, mêmes arrangements pour piano seul, mais qu'est-ce qui se passe, rien, il ne se passe rien, le wagon partait pour l'exil avec son contingent de paumés, ils arriveront bien un jour, ouvriront les rideaux au petit matin et trouveront…
Robert Pinget, Passacaille
After coffee, he pulled himself together and wrote his page of memories, searching for the anecdote, all afternoon, the day growing shorter, for this month's page, the last resource, when the maid returned with the soup, it is served, sir, to a fixed rhythm, phrases returning from the flood, same arrangements for solo piano, but what's going on, nothing, nothing's going on, the wagon was on its way into exile, with its contingent of losers, they will arrive one day, open the curtains in the early morning and find…
Mais le plus étrange était this obsession qui vous ramenait aux mêmes images lesquelles pour avoir été évoquées l'espace de quelques mois dans les conversations des uns et des other ne voulaient plus être oubliées, réclamaient leur content de chair, bref deviendraient vivantes et non plus simulacres mais au détriment…
A new reality that has nothing to do with everything left, victoire, quelle hécatombe, with the rest of the table before the repas, an écritoire pour passer le temps et une domestique qui pour n'être… mais là n'est pas la question.
Le calme, le gris.
This piece can be used in a wide range of areas, with its bathrooms in the small fissures, the furniture is fatigué and bonasse, the grande armoire tenant lieu de buffet or the servant rangeait the vaisselle qui venait des grand-mères, motifs bleus or volatiles dans des branches Bourgeonnant of tulipes and d'orchidées, the table entourée of six chaises, a bergère avachie recouverte en léopard, a fireplace or trônait the pendule détraquée, par the fenêtre and jardinet planté de pruniers et de roses-mousses, printemps pluvieux, vague à l'âme.
Robert Pinget, Passacaille
But the strangest thing was this obsession that brought you back to the same images which, after being conjured up in conversations between one person and another for a few months, refused to be forgotten, demanded their substance, in short, would come alive and no longer be simulacra, but at the expense of…
A new reality we didn't want, one that swept everything else away; the victory, what a mess, barely a table to eat at, a desk to pass the time, and a maid… but that's not the point.
The silence, the grey.
I can still see the room where he worked, the whitewashed walls full of cracks, the tired and boring furniture, a large cupboard that served as a sideboard in which the maid kept the grandmothers' dishes, blue or fleeting motifs in the budding tulip and orchid branches, the table surrounded by six chairs, a limp shepherdess wrapped in leopard skin, a fireplace where the clock was out of order, through the window a small garden planted with plum trees and moss roses, rainy spring, gloomy mood.
"Le calme, le gris.“As in the condensed coda of the sestine, the bass line of the passacaglia is finally intoned once more in the selected excerpt, but here it is explicitly linked to discursive images and their ultimately obsessive elaboration. The simulacra take shape and acquire flesh and blood in this fragmented new reality of literature, which musically constructs and disintegrates order.”
Garcia, like a mobile
Cyclical novels, which consist of interconnected stories or novellas in a single volume, are an open hybrid genre; the standalone texts form connections, like a root system, revisiting motifs and giving them variation and depth. This was the case, for example, with Tristan Garcia's 7 The case from 2015, with seven miniature novels, as the publisher Gallimard said that it is “like a mobile, whose various parts are both autonomous and interdependent.” 7 to paint a new picture of modern man and, as in Stefan Zweig's Reigen Visit different social milieus.
Narratives that adhere to a formal structure (as in the work of the Oulipo group of authors) often introduce a poetic dimension into their narratives when addressing musical structures. This is also the case with Garcia, when, in the very first of the seven pieces, he writes about "Hélicéene," a drug that allows one to relive youth. Les Inrockuptibles calls the text a novel in the "form of a Möbius strip" 8, which gradually works through the connection of leitmotifs and finally reveals them in the seventh part. 9 However, listening to music also becomes thematically obsessive; the first-person narrator of the first piece searches unsuccessfully and ever more desperately for a sequence:
À l'approche du printemps, je suis presque parvenu à oublier Sélène, Paiva et les Indies dont je cauchemardais encore à l'occasion, mais je suis resté obsédé par les neuf mesures que je n'avais jamais entendues jusqu'alors. Devenu très méfiant, je me refusais à laisser écouter the small séquence entêtante à Joey, or aux other de mes amis mélomanes. Au return des journées de studio, dans mon salon du three étage, j'éclusais des bouteilles de vin australia sans valeur, des ersatz de cépages français de la province de Victoria, en réécoutant de manière ordonnée à peu près tout ce que je connaissais d'approchant. Et, parfois, a court break de tel ou tel disque obscur approchait en effet the rythme et la mélodie de mon extrait mystérieux, et j'essayais de me convaincre que j'avais trouvé pour de bon. Mais une heure après, my esprit aux aguets me rappelait que les other morceaux gravés sur le cylindre n'étaient jamais des approximations a priori d'une chanson ; c'était au contraire leur essence, de sorte que la musique inscrite sur les rouleaux de Constantin Sélène était toujours plus fidèle aux morceaux exécutés au XXe siècle que les morceaux eux-mêmes. Là, ce n'était pas le cas. Consequence of the situation, I relevais the futon, and I poursuivais ma quête dans the salon.
Tristan Garcia, 7
As spring drew nearer, I almost managed to forget Sélène, Paiva, and the Indians, who still occasionally haunted my nightmares, but I remained obsessed with the nine bars I had never heard before. I became very suspicious and refused to let Joey or any of my other music-loving friends hear the intoxicating little sequence. When I returned from my days in the studio, I would sip bottles of worthless Australian wine and Victorian substitutes in my third-floor living room and listen in an orderly fashion to pretty much anything I knew that came close. And occasionally, a brief pause from some obscure record would actually come close to the rhythm and melody of my mysterious extract, and I would try to convince myself that I had finally found it. But an hour later, my alert mind would remind me that the other tracks on the record were never a priori approximations of a song; On the contrary, it was their essence, so that the music written on Constantin Sélène's scores was always more faithful to the pieces performed in the twentieth century than the pieces themselves. This was not the case here. So I got up from the futon and continued my search in the living room.
The search here problematizes the relationship between performance and score, existence and essence; nine never-before-heard, hard-to-find bars of music, which seem as promising as proof of God once was, can also be interpreted autopoetologically as a musical formal principle of 7 read. As in the stream of consciousness, the stream of consciousness in literary modernism, the analogy to human perception in its processuality is also replicated in musical structures; here, too, the cited search in Garcia stands, so different and yet related to the search in Pinget's PassacailleIn the second piece by Garcia's 7In "Les Rouleaux de bois," a rock musician receives wooden records from 1813 as a gift from a fan, and he recognizes many pieces from all genres of music that would only emerge (or become known) in the 200 years that followed, from classical and jazz to rock and pop. Without giving too much away, the seventh piece, "La Septième," ends with the eternal repetition of a life, with further iterations and seven variations of the narrator's own possible existence.
Reza, Hammerklavier défiguré
In Beethoven's late works, the Hammerklavier Sonata (No. 29 in B-flat major, Op. 106) is considered the most formally and technically demanding piano sonata. During a period of his deafness, financial worries, and personal conflicts, the composer asserted his powers, albeit, in the words of the pianist, with difficulty. Igor Levit Adagio, the third movement of the sonata: “Here a person perishes in despair.” And so, Annette Pehnt’s review in the FAZ must be contradicted when she writes: “The subtitle ‘Sonata’ and the appealingly austere cover promise clever composition and careful intonation, precisely those qualities that made Yasmina Reza famous with her play ‘Art’.” 10 For the Adagio represents the deep relationship between the daughter Yasmina and her father. This can be dismissed dismissively, as was done at the time in the NZZ. 11, where the sequence of episodes delivered in the form of a personal diary, instead of the expected formally strict sonata, was criticized as arrogant.
Reza begins her book with a dream in which her father has died and meets Beethoven. Beethoven reproaches her father for having dared to play the Adagio of the Hammerklavier Sonata. She then recounts the evening when she asks her frail father, emaciated and with swollen legs, to play this movement for her. The performance is a failure in so many ways; she comforts her father, but she also knows that there will never be a second time for them to play the piece together.
Il sent that c'est très mauvais mais il poursuit. Je devrais pleurer. Fortepiano défiguré. Mon pere mourant. Le clair-obscur accusant tous les signs de la perdition. Mais c'est le rire qui me prend.
Yasmina Reza, Hammerklavier
He senses that this is very bad, but he continues. I should cry. The fortepiano is disfigured. My father is going to die. The chiaroscuro displays all the signs of doom. But it is the laughter that moves me.
Yasmina Reza's Jewish humor, which also includes laughing at herself as a dictatorial childhood friend, brings a different side of music to the fore. She encounters her then-plump school friend Lucette Mosès, whom she had dominated like a slave, now as an attractive—and happy—singer in the Salle Pleyel before a sold-out audience. It's a story that contrasts sharply with her ailing father, one in which the structural aspects of music don't resonate, but rather resonate on an existential level.
Kerangal, tels of the satellite
The voice is encore plus unique qu'un visage, elle fonctionne also comme une empreinte.
Maylis de Kerangal, Radio France Culture
The voice is even more unique than a face; it also leaves an imprint.
In a certain way, it bundles Canoes Some of the dimensions of musical references in Pinget, Garcia, and Reza include, firstly, the semiotic-formal structuring and work of intertextual references, but also the profound connection between musicality and physicality, between one's own identity and dimensions of musical experience. Resonance refers to when one body vibrates or resonates in sync with another, as with the drone strings of lutes. Maylis de Kerangal's book, as emphasized at the outset, also reflects the changes in the voice in an age of masks. She explains the principle of the canoe book not only as a single voice, but also as its trace, its transmissibility and stimulation for others, its connection to life processes and female life plans.
J'ai conçu Canoes as a novel in separate pieces: a central novel, “Mustang”, and autour, via satellites, september récits. Everything is connected, everything is connected between the two, and part of the same dream: it is the nature of the human voice, the material, these two voices, and the composer has a variety of vocal worlds, empli d'échos, de vibrations, de traces rémanentes. The voice is said in a moment of trouble, when the timbre is used or heard, it distinguishes itself or it is confond, it is détraque or it breezes, when it has a message or a micro filter for its paroles, the recorder or the effector. You can intercept a frequency, capture a souffle, listen to a note all the way through the book that makes the part of the beautiful woman a tribute to women - women of all ages, solitaires, rêveuses, volubiles, hantées or marginales. Elles occupent tout l'espace. Surtout, j'ai eu envie d'aller chercher ma voix parmi les leurs, de la faire entendre au plus juste, de trouver un “je”, au plus proche.
Maylis de Kerangal, Vertical editions
I have Canoes Conceived as a novel in parts: a central novella, 'Mustang,' and around it, like satellites, seven stories. All are interconnected, all speak to one another, and all stem from the same desire: to explore the nature of the human voice, its materiality, its powers, and to compose a kind of vocal world filled with echoes, vibrations, and residual traces. Each voice is captured in a moment of disruption, when its timbre wears down or mutates, delineates or merges, sometimes goes berserk or breaks, when a messenger or a microphone filters, records, or erases its words. I wanted to intercept a frequency, capture a breath, record a note in a book that gives pride of place to a tribe of women—women of all ages, lonely, dreamy, articulate, persecuted, or marginalized. They occupy the entire space. Above all, I wanted to find my voice among them, to make it heard as accurately as possible, to find an 'I,' as close as possible.
Alain Nicholas demonstrated in detail how not only the individual stories interact, but also how the text incorporates and varies motifs from Kerangal's entire oeuvre: "From the very first text, the motifs respond to one another in echoes and variations, giving the whole an architecture that makes this book more than a simple collection of short stories. (...) From one book to the next, and even within Canoes Motifs emerge and disappear again, transforming and fragmenting into a subtle musicality. In these short stories, Maylis de Kerangal rearranges her universe, charts its 'inner geometry', and, through the choice of this fragmented structure, reveals the 'secret infra-fiction' that the author narrates: 'Giving each text its own voice.' 12
Je me suis massé le cou, et pour me détendre j'ai pensé au processus qui convertit le souffle en voix articulée depuis des milliers d'années: j'ai visualisé the larynx bas dans ma gorge et mes cordes vocales, ces deux petits plis pâles vibrant l'un contre l'autre à toute Speed au passage de l'air insufflé des poumons, j'ai imaginé les alvéoles, les bronches, la trachée, puis la cavité palatine, les dents, les lèvres, and j'ai décomposé la transformation de ces vibrations en une voix humane, this voix dont le micro restitue maintenant la moindre occlusion, la moindre fibrillation, the morning of the duvet, this voice is heard in instant: (…)
Maylis de Kerangal, Canoes
I massaged my neck, and to relax, I thought about the process that, for thousands of years, has transformed breath into an articulate voice: I pictured the larynx deep in my throat and my vocal cords, those two small pale folds vibrating against each other at full speed as air rushes in from the lungs; I pictured the alveoli, the bronchi, the trachea, then the palate, the teeth, the lips, and I dissected the transformation of these vibrations into a human voice, this voice whose microphone now picks up the slightest swallow, the slightest flutter, the slightest tremor, this voice speaking at this very moment: (...)
Musicality here should be understood as the resonance of the narrator's voice and her own reaction; the physicality and materiality of literature are revealed during the reading of "The Raven." Crow, recited by Edgar Allan Poe in the translation by Charles Baudelaire. The alteration of the voice and the feeling of the narration go hand in hand:
Alors, je me suis remise à lire, mais ce n'était pas ma voix, c'était la voix d'une inconnue, c'était la voix d'une autre, je lisais le poème et je sentais les plumes du corbeau qui me frôlaient maintenant, effleuraient mon crâne, caressaient mon front, et These pattes poses on my épaule comme sur un perchoir, pendant que les strophes chutaient dans le micro les unes après les otherNevermore! Nevermore! I'm in a souffle, somnambulistic and parfaitement orientée, like I'm talking about the poetry, and it's possible, the language is déréglant, I'm like a pear, a little archaic, the issue of the caverns or the shape of it l'oreille humaine.
Maylis de Kerangal, Canoes
Then I began to read again, but it wasn't my voice, it was a stranger's voice, it was someone else's voice. I read the poem, and I felt the raven's feathers nestle against me, brush against my skull, caress my forehead, and its feet rest on my shoulder as if on a perch, while the verses tumbled into the microphone one after the other. Never again! Never again! I read in one breath, sleepwalking and perfectly oriented, as if I were running ahead of the poem, and soon, as echolalia deregulated language, I read as if I were afraid, an archaic fear, from that cave age when the human ear was created.
Voice thus as a moment of literary representation and physical self-experience, but this principle also works in the social sphere: The one unmistakable voice of her friend Zoé is associated with a canoeing holiday; their friendship, the tone of voice, and the special time in summer blend into a tribute to "resonance" in the sense of female friendship:
Ce que Zoé appeals to the "voix de chiotte" is not pas autre chose qu'un timbre clair et vif, une voix au débit saccade, pointue mais capable de s'élever sans stridence — un ruisseau de montagne. Je l'aime cette voix, c'est la sienne. When I spend my time with Zoé, this timbre qui revient et, dans son sillage, la nuit où elle avait chanté des standards de folkeuses Américaines: nous campions au cœur de l'Aubrac, les canoës reposaient dans l'herbe, c'était l'été, la tente amplifiait sa chanson tel un patio Andalou, Zoé has the voice limpide and the silence between the chair and the density of the plate.
Maylis de Kerangal, Canoes
What Zoé calls her "shitty voice" is nothing more than a clear and vibrant timbre, a voice with a jerky delivery, sharp, but capable of rising without shrillness—a mountain stream. I love this voice; it's hers. When I think of Zoé, this timbre comes to mind, and with it, the night she sang American folk standards: We were camping in the heart of the Aubrac, the canoes lay on the grass, it was summer, the tent amplified her singing like an Andalusian terrace, Zoé's voice was clear, and the silence between each note had a platinum-colored density.
But the voices that bombard the narrator—media-driven, intrusive—also belong to this scenario of (here unwanted) resonance. Music and the experience of her own voice while singing loudly in the car on hours-long, aimless drives help to connect the dots:
Souvent, une fois lancée, j'allume l'autoradio, aussitôt assaillie par les prêches religieux que débitent d'une fréquence à l'autre des voix males aux modulations perverses, tour à tour séductrices et menaçantes, caverneuses, des prêches que j'écarte, choisissant la musique, un air, une chanson que je pourrais chanter moi aussi, à voix haute et claire, à voix forte même, à gorge déployée dit-on — c'est si bon de chanter fort en secouant la tête ; And if you have a low volume, you will always hear the voice, but it will also be nice, it will revitalize you, and you will insist, if you have a seat in your car, you will not be served by: the entendre. Never erance, not my exploration, these hours are in a form of appréhension excitée, a game ouvert, où the monotony of the banlieue, a continuous infinity, mais aussi les échappées sur les collines, in les plis rocheux de la montagne, peuvent à tout moment faire Revenir an image, a pensée, a voice, and release in the moi ce qui se tient disjoint.
Maylis de Kerangal, Canoes
Often, as soon as I start driving, I switch on the car radio and am immediately assaulted by religious sermons, male voices with perverse modulations, alternately seductive and threatening, cavernous, spewing from one frequency to another, sermons which I dismiss by choosing music, a melody, a song that I too could sing, clearly and distinctly, even loudly, at the top of my lungs, as they say – it's so beautiful to sing loudly and move your head at the same time; and when I turn the volume down, I hear my own voice, tentative but incredibly clear, it returns to me and insists, as if these hours alone in the car were there for nothing more than to hear it. These hours are neither a wandering nor an exploration, but a form of excited understanding, an open game in which the monotony of the suburbs, their endless succession, but also the escapes on the hills, in the rocky folds of the mountain, can bring back an image, a thought, a voice at any moment and link the incoherent within me.
Quelque chose in ces rues me trouble, the calm of the people, the calm or the harmony, a répartition de la communauté selon and ordre indiscutable et silencieux: no aboiement de chien à notre passage, no cri de dispute surgi de l'intérieur d'une maison et propre à en faire voir the reverse, the quotidien domestic, comme un gant retourné, à peine des pleurs de baby filtrés par une fenêtre ouverte, the sifflet d'one cocotte-minute or the souffle d'un aspirateur.
Maylis de Kerangal, Canoes
Something in these streets bothered me, perhaps the quiet, the peace or the harmony, a division of the community according to an undeniable and silent order: no barking of dogs as we passed, no shouting of arguments from inside a house that would let us see the other side of the coin, daily domestic life, like an inside-out glove, hardly a baby cry filtered through an open window, the whistling of a pressure cooker or the breath of a vacuum cleaner.
Voice and presence, vitality, atmosphere—not music in the strict sense, but the musicality of literature, as the resonant relationship between humanity and the world, and between texts and one another—Kerangal's book demonstrates what she speaks of, and precisely the painful absence of a loved one, in times of ubiquitous voice recordings in voice messages or answering machines, simultaneously creates a need to bury a voice, to avoid having to confront its recording with the same agonizing intensity as a particular scent preserved in a garment. Death and mourning, silence and erasure:
Lise and my summer repliés in the salon éteint, tels deux aveugles en canoë, ramant against the courant. (…) je l'ai dans l'oreille, this voix, elle ne m'a jamais quittée, elle ne s'est pas effacée et je n'ai pas peur de la perdre: c'est la sienne. (…) the voice recorded is present for all people, but it is also present, present or present in the world, present that it coincides with the world, and that I am rend dingue, and that I am fait mal. After a laps of silence, elle a repris, déchirante: contrairement à ce que tu penses, mon chagrin s'intensifie chaque fois que je tombe sur ce message, je finis par ne plus appeler chez toi par peur de l'entendre. Pense aux other, efface-la.
Maylis de Kerangal, Canoes
Lise and I retreated to the darkened living room, like two blind people in a canoe paddling against the current. (...) I have this voice in my ear, it has never left me, it hasn't faded away, and I'm not afraid of losing it: it's hers. (...) Her recorded voice is forever in the present, but it's a different present, a present in which her death didn't happen, a present that never coincides with the present of my life, and that's driving me crazy, and it hurts. After a moment of silence, she continued: Contrary to what you think, my grief intensifies every time I happen to hear this message; eventually, I won't call you anymore, for fear of hearing it. Think of the others and delete them.
This article is written in German and can be found at https://rentree.de. Automatic translations into English and French are available. English, French.
Notes- Still fundamental: János Riesz, The Sestine: its position in literary criticism and its history as a lyrical genre (Munich: Fink, 1971).>>>
- "Mia benigna fortuna e 'l viver lieto", Rerum vulgarium fragmenta CCCXXXII>>>
- See J. Broeckx, “Aesthetic and sociological implications in Adorno’s ‘Types of Musical Behavior’”. Studia Philosophica Gandensia 9 (1971).>>>
- “Il ya un toujours un tel souffle dans l'écriture de Maylis de Kerangal, un tel élan propulseur, un tel spectre de vibrations et de tonalités que le format du roman semble bien l'espace minimum pour qu'elle puisse s'y déployer.” Marine Landrot, Télérama, May 19, 2021.>>>
- «restituer à la littérature sa part orale, incarnée, […] thunder à chaque texte une voix qui soit la Sienne, une voix juste et unique, une voix insubstitutable […]», Annabelle Martella, ««Musiques-fictions», vivre le roman présent», Libération, June 24, 2021.>>>
- "La pendule s'arrêtera, ses aiguilles arrachées. Les machines tombent en panne. On butera constamment sur l'image d'un cadavre allongé sur un tas de fumier: la mort aussi c'est la vie qui se détraque. Curieux cadavre autour duquel s'organise Passacaille. "It's not a novel with a suitable speaker, but it's a faisceau de bribes romanesques qui s'entrecroisent, se contredisent, s'enchevêtrent, et où il est tout à fait impossible de débrouiller une histoire." Jacqueline Piatier, “Passacaille, de Robert Pinget”, Le Monde, 12. July 1969.>>>
- “comme un mobile dont les différentes parties sont à la fois autonomes et solidaires”.>>>
- “roman en forme de ruban de Möbius”.>>>
- “Les correspondances entre ces fragments se dévoilent peu à peu grâce à des motifs récurrents qui sont autant d'indices semés par l'auteur: une chanson, des silhouettes, des noms de lieux tel Mornay, ville fictive qui servait déjà de décor à Faber, le précédent roman de Tristan Garcia. La clé de l'ensemble, son “architecture invisible”, se cache dans l'ultime texte, “La Septième”, hypnotique boucle temporelle.” Les Inrockuptibles.>>>
- Annette Pehnt, “The fortepiano sounds dull,” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 6. April 1999.>>>
- “Studies, attitudes”, Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 11. February 1999.>>>
- "The premier text, the motifs are reflected in echoes and variations, donnant à l'ensemble une architecture qui fait de ce livre plus qu'un simple recueil de nouvelles. (…) D'un livre à l'autre et à l'intérieur même de Canoes, the motifs appear and are effacent, are metamorphosent and are dédoublent in a subtle musicality. Maylis de Kerangal, in ces new, réarrange son univers, en dessine la «geométrie interné» et, choisissant this structure éclatée, révèle «l'infra-fiction secrète» que raconte l'autrice: «Donner à chaque texte une voix qui soit la sienne.»“ Alain Nicholas, “« Canoës », de Maylis de Kerangal : la fiction d'escale en escale”, Humanity, June 3, 2021.>>>
1 comment on “Music Fictions: Kerangal with Pinget, Garcia and Reza”
Comments are closed.