"In The Café of Lost Youth" by Patrick Modiano - Translated by Chris Clarke (NYRB)

ISBN 978-1-59017-953-6 NYRB

"In The Café of Lost Youth" by Patrick Modiano / Translated by Chris Clarke (NYRB)

As much as possible, I try to read every book - fiction and non-fiction on the city of Paris, especially if it took place in the 1950s.  Of my interest, the post-war years are the most interesting to me.  Great films, wonderful music and really interesting figures emerge from Paris during that time.  I suspect that Patrick Modiano feels the same way about Paris, because "In The Café of Lost Youth" is very much a love letter (or love novel) to Paris - especially the nighttime of Paris.  Where the characters wander around various neighborhoods and cafés and occasionally listen to lectures.  I do not even know for sure, but I suspect that the novel is based on Ed van der Elsken's book of photos "Love on the Left Bank" that tells a tale of a girl who wanders into the world of the Letterists/Situationists. There is likewise a character that is based on Guy Debord, but not overly him, but an "ideal" version of Debord. 

I like the novel for all the above reasons, but it is not as good as Michèle Bernstein's novel "All The King's Horses" or "The Night."   She was married to Debord, and her fiction can be read as 'maybe' a memoir.  Nevertheless, Modiano is sort of the after-effect of such literature by Bernstein.  His, is a very romantic narrative - and there are at least four running narratives on the same girl, "Lluki" who is both a wanderer as well as a bohemian adventurer in the night life of Paris.  If nothing else, it makes one wish to purchase an one-way ticket to Paris. 

"Missing Person" by Patrick Modiano (Translated by Daniel Weissbort) David R. Godine Publisher

ISBN: 9781567922813  David R. Godine Publisher

"Missing Person" by Patrick Modiano (Translated by Daniel Weissbort) David R. Godine Publisher

The occupation that took place in France during the war years, was (or is) something that people never got over, and for good reason.  20th century French literature has many novels and books about this dark time in France.   One can add "Missing Person" by Patrick Modiano in this mix as well.   The narrative is the story of a detective who is locating .... himself.    Which, also, is quite the theme for contemporary fiction.  From Kafka to Mishima, it is usually a journey to track down the "self" and where that may lead.  Here, our hero (of sorts) has a photograph or two, where he interviews numerous people who may have known him or what ever happened to him.  This novel is a bit like an espionage novel mixed in with Alain Robbe-Grillet's fiction.  It's toxic combination, but still, I found the novel a bit understated for my taste.  On the other hand, I really enjoyed his memoir.  Still, I will go onward and check out his other novels. 

"Pedigree: a Memoir" by Patrick Mordiano (translated by Mark Polizzotti)

ISBN: 9780300215335 Yale University Press

"Pedigree: a Memoir" by Patrick Modiano (Translated from the French to English by Mark Polizzotti) Yale University Press  ISBN: 9780300215335

A moody memoir of the young years of the Nobel Prize winner (for literature) Patrick Modiano.   I have not, at this date, read any of his fiction, but will do so.  I like his writing, and how he reflects on the relationship between him and his parents.  His mother was very distant and sort of demanding, and father was a border-line criminal.  Both parents lacked that parent skill, so Modiano floated between and beyond them. 

This brief book is hard to put down, and one can easily read it in a few hours.  It's concise in scope in that it addresses the years of his childhood up to the time when he wrote his first novel in his early 20s.   The narration floats down the stream, like memory at work.  His sense of place, specifically Paris in the 1950s is very clear.   The book is written dryly, but I sense a great deal of emotion from the author as he covers his life as it happened.  The writing is sparse, but loaded with meaning.  On top of that, since I'm Boris Vian's publisher in English, I'm delighted he gives some attention to the remarkable figure of the Saint Germain-des-prés scene.  It seems like he knew his widow, and she showed him a dance that Boris and her used to do together.   Great little book.

- Tosh Berman

October 9, 2014

October 9, 2014

I lost to Patrick. Modiano.  A totally obscure French author who had a book in print in the U.S., but now appears to be out-of-print.  I, on the other hand, have two books in print, and yet, I was unable to obtain the Nobel Prize for Literature.  Clearly there is no God.  On the brighter side, at least I didn’t lose to Murakami.  So maybe there is a God.

In the last eight hours, I have learned a good lesson.  Never budget yourself in the slim hope of winning a prize.  I can clearly use the $1,100,000 winnings as well as the award’s reputation, but alas, perhaps I’m fated to be in the shadows of the literary world. And is that a bad place?  I used to think that I just wanted to be popular and loved by everyone, but then I had to remind myself that I can’t stand most people. So why would I want to be loved by people by people I wouldn’t spit on, due that it’s not worthy of the procedure.

Right now, due to my sole and obsessive focus on writing, I pretty much ignored the financial world.  There is not a change in hell or heaven for me to get monetary award for my work.  Looking forward to the future, there is…none.  At least till December 31, when I will finish my writing project. After that, I don’t think I can survive in this world. I may have to sell my collection of rare Jacques Tati 35mm prints as well as my original editions of France Gall recordings, but alas, it is just objects, and the only object I need now is food and drink.  I was hoping to win the Nobel, if for nothing else, give me time to focus on the writing till I die of old age.  But now, that possibility seems so distant, it is like watching the ocean and looking at its vanishing point.  There is nothing ahead of me, and I need to be honest that this is it, and “it” is not going to be that hot.  In fact, it’s going to be a disaster.

It’s ironic that Modiano’s work deals with the subject matter of ‘identity.' My work is pretty much in that category as well, in fact, I think most 19th and 20th century literature is about the loss of identity, but ironically I don’t really have one, unless I write.  Once the writing stops at the end of this year, I will be adrift in an ocean of my own making - and it will be on a leaky boat, just focusing on keeping the vessel as dry as possible.   Like a Lee Wiley recording, I’m leaving the sophisticated world of the pen and paper, and will float to neither here nor there.

I want to congratulate M. Modiano on him getting the award, and surely he deserves it.  From time-to-time I do feel that the $1,100,000 was nabbed away from my hand, but I have to get over it.  I have to get over a lot of things. “Get over it man.”