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shimmer's review
5.0
Full disclosure, the translator of this novel's new English edition is a friend of mine. But friendship or not Beauty On Earth—the second novel by Ramuz I've read, along with a few short stories—is a gorgeous, subtle, deceptively complex work. It's the story of a young woman sent to a Swiss village following the death of her father because at 19 she isn't legally of age yet and has become, by default and with no right of self-determination, her unknown uncle's responsibility. It's a story of tension and repression and surveillance in a small, isolated community and of how the presence of an outsider—especially a distractingly beautiful outsider, and a woman—becomes disruptive because of competing masculinities, jealousy, and other ugly traits stirred to the surface. The voice is distinctive and challenging, as it has been in the other Ramuz fiction I've read, shifting tenses and POV often to create an unsettling effect of complicity and indictment between reader, narrator, and characters. It seems ahead of its time that way and I can't help wondering if Ramuz might be better known beyond Switzerland—like his contemporary Robert Walser—had he written urban rather than rural novels and stories. But perhaps he will become better known now in English thanks to this translation and, I hope, more to come.
angelayoung's review
5.0
This is an astonishing novel. I speak nothing but ordering-in-a-restaurant / booking-a-hotel-room French so I can only think that Michelle Bailat-Jones, the translator, is a poet as well as - obviously - a fluent French speaker because this novel, which I read in her translation, reads like liquid music. It flows between different points of view, including the first person plural so that we, the readers, are drawn in to the story, and it flows between events and characters seamlessly.
As I was searching for the right words to describe the novel's effect on me, I found them - as so often with a good novel - in the text itself. Water is very important to the main character, Juliette, and to the men she goes to stay with. She has come from across the water and they are fishermen or, as one of them says, 'We're water people ... [not land people who are] forced to follow a path ... between two walls, between two hedges ... . It's full of rules [on the land]. Full of No Trespassing ... . As for me ... for us, we go where we want. We've got everything because we have nothing.' This novel is as fluid as the water it loves.
And having everything because we have nothing. That seems to me to be what Beauty on Earth is about, and also how it is written: each reader must engage with the images the words conjure and see what she finds, like looking at trees reflected in rippling water. 'We'll cross water,' says the same character, later on, 'we'll cross the water and over there it's another country and they can't do anything to us ... it will be better.' We will find meaning if we float where the novel takes us.
And it's about how beauty cannot be - and should not be - pinned down or possessed. The beauty of the young woman who comes from another country is never exactly described, which makes it possible for us to imagine her for ourselves:
But, naturally although sadly, there are attempts to tie beauty down, to possess her, because the villagers cannot cope with such beauty in their midst. They don't know what to do with her, or how to live alongside her. They react in different ways but their ways are all destructive. The only person who has no desire to destroy beauty is an ugly hunchbacked musician whose music she loves.
As for the exact nature of the story, it seemed to me that parts of it must be divined from the beautiful images it creates and lodges in the reader's mind. Like beauty itself the story cannot be described exactly. Each reader must divine the story for herself, must be the beholder and discover the story's beauty for herself. And therein lies its attraction.
As I was searching for the right words to describe the novel's effect on me, I found them - as so often with a good novel - in the text itself. Water is very important to the main character, Juliette, and to the men she goes to stay with. She has come from across the water and they are fishermen or, as one of them says, 'We're water people ... [not land people who are] forced to follow a path ... between two walls, between two hedges ... . It's full of rules [on the land]. Full of No Trespassing ... . As for me ... for us, we go where we want. We've got everything because we have nothing.' This novel is as fluid as the water it loves.
And having everything because we have nothing. That seems to me to be what Beauty on Earth is about, and also how it is written: each reader must engage with the images the words conjure and see what she finds, like looking at trees reflected in rippling water. 'We'll cross water,' says the same character, later on, 'we'll cross the water and over there it's another country and they can't do anything to us ... it will be better.' We will find meaning if we float where the novel takes us.
And it's about how beauty cannot be - and should not be - pinned down or possessed. The beauty of the young woman who comes from another country is never exactly described, which makes it possible for us to imagine her for ourselves:
The girl, the girl had nothing but a little black dress with a black lace handkerchief tied around her hair (which we thought must have been the fashion in the country where she came from). It didn't matter ... the first words which had flown through the air had painted her in another way and with beautiful colours; that description still served.Or
This is when she reappeared; and there was great joy on the mountains. She walked forward, she walked beneath her silk scarf; as she walked forward, we could see the long fringe slide up the length of her legs, then split to fall along each rounded side of them. She placed her lovely bare feet on the stones. And then, suddenly the yellow shawl was gone, - at the same time Decosterd pushed the Juliette [the boat the fishermen have named after her] into the water, at the same time the mountains shone bright, the fish were jumping out of the water. - but she was shining now too, her bare arms shone, her broad shoulders shone.
But, naturally although sadly, there are attempts to tie beauty down, to possess her, because the villagers cannot cope with such beauty in their midst. They don't know what to do with her, or how to live alongside her. They react in different ways but their ways are all destructive. The only person who has no desire to destroy beauty is an ugly hunchbacked musician whose music she loves.
As for the exact nature of the story, it seemed to me that parts of it must be divined from the beautiful images it creates and lodges in the reader's mind. Like beauty itself the story cannot be described exactly. Each reader must divine the story for herself, must be the beholder and discover the story's beauty for herself. And therein lies its attraction.
rebeccahussey's review
5.0
I was thrilled to get my hands on a copy of Charles Ferdinand Ramuz’s 1927 novel Beauty on Earth, newly translated by Michelle Bailat-Jones. Ramuz is a Swiss writer, not well known here in the U.S., and it’s exciting to see that his work is now available. The novel tells the story of a young woman, Juliette, who comes to live with her uncle in a small Swiss town after her father’s death. She grew up in Cuba, and so has a large change ahead of her. The focus of the novel is not on her experience of this change, however, or at least not on her inward experience, for we see her mainly from the outside as she arrives in the town, an unusual and surprising figure to whom the villagers don’t know how to respond. The novel is focused more on the experiences of the uncle, Milliquet, a café owner, and Rouge, a fisherman, as well as a handful of other townspeople. It’s a story of a stranger coming in and disrupting what appears to be a quiet, peaceful place, revealing tensions lying beneath the surface. It’s Juliette’s beauty that the town finds so disruptive; she captivates all — or at least many — of the people who meet her. Her beauty provokes them to want to possess her. The fact that Juliette provokes such possessiveness and that we never learn much about her inner life suggests that she is meant to be a symbol for human longing for the unattainable.
One of the most intriguing aspects of the book is the narrative voice and the novel’s point of view. The book starts off in a straightforward third person objective point of view, but the narrator quickly shifts to first person plural, and from there on, moves back and forth between first and third, and sometimes shifts into second. It’s disorienting for readers, as sometimes we’re outside the scene looking in, and sometimes, through the narrator’s use of “we,” are in the scene itself, one of the townspeople, taking part in the action. Sometimes, when the narrator uses “you,” we are being addressed directly. Readers never quite know where they are, what their place is, and are therefore not allowed to sit in judgment on the townspeople from afar. Readers are implicated in the desire to possess Juliette, and, just like the townspeople, are frustrated in any attempt to know her.
Ramuz’s writing — and the new translation — is beautiful; the lake and village landscapes are gorgeously evoked. I finished the book with a strong sense of the place — its cliffs and waves and storms. The novel’s title refers to Juliette’s disruptive beauty, but it also surely gestures toward the beauty of the landscape. I wish I could visit, although I would not want to be drawn, as Juliette is, into the schemes of the townspeople. The genius of this novel is that Ramuz never lets the reader keep a safe, observing distance. To read this novel is to take part in its struggle, an unsettling, but satisfying, experience.
One of the most intriguing aspects of the book is the narrative voice and the novel’s point of view. The book starts off in a straightforward third person objective point of view, but the narrator quickly shifts to first person plural, and from there on, moves back and forth between first and third, and sometimes shifts into second. It’s disorienting for readers, as sometimes we’re outside the scene looking in, and sometimes, through the narrator’s use of “we,” are in the scene itself, one of the townspeople, taking part in the action. Sometimes, when the narrator uses “you,” we are being addressed directly. Readers never quite know where they are, what their place is, and are therefore not allowed to sit in judgment on the townspeople from afar. Readers are implicated in the desire to possess Juliette, and, just like the townspeople, are frustrated in any attempt to know her.
Ramuz’s writing — and the new translation — is beautiful; the lake and village landscapes are gorgeously evoked. I finished the book with a strong sense of the place — its cliffs and waves and storms. The novel’s title refers to Juliette’s disruptive beauty, but it also surely gestures toward the beauty of the landscape. I wish I could visit, although I would not want to be drawn, as Juliette is, into the schemes of the townspeople. The genius of this novel is that Ramuz never lets the reader keep a safe, observing distance. To read this novel is to take part in its struggle, an unsettling, but satisfying, experience.
lindaunconventionalbookworms's review against another edition
3.0
3.5 stars
Took me ages to read, even if the story is both compelling and interesting, well written and full of poetic descriptions. I know I will have to read this again, too, because it will be the subject of my oral exam in French literature in June next year...
Took me ages to read, even if the story is both compelling and interesting, well written and full of poetic descriptions. I know I will have to read this again, too, because it will be the subject of my oral exam in French literature in June next year...
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