Reviews

Lac by Jean Echenoz

excuseforjuice's review against another edition

funny lighthearted mysterious medium-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Plot
• Strong character development? No
• Loveable characters? No
• Diverse cast of characters? Yes
• Flaws of characters a main focus? No

3.25

davidwright's review against another edition

3.0

Here's a delightful writer who, like James Sallis, Jerome Charyn, or Paul Auster, appropriates genre conventions in wildly original, amusing ways. It would seem we're in a spy novel. A one-legged agent is sent to surveille entomologist Franck Chopin, who in turn is set on the trail of government official Vital Veber and his entourage as they vacation in a resort hotel, using ingenious gadgets to track their every move. Betrayals and unsuspected alliances surface, plots reverse themselves, romance flares, appearances deceive, and ambiguity abounds. But in the end there really is no point at all, and the top-secret bureau supposedly pulling the strings, the so-called "Steering Committee," is in truth steering us nowhere. While there are some amusing gags, such as Chopin's gadgets — houseflies with tiny microphones — the real joy of this book is not the flow of the absurd plot, but the glorious eddies and refractions along the way. Many books have an occasional turn of phrase that delights, the line that makes you stop and sigh or smile at its ingenuity. Chopin’s Move overflows with them — wonderfully expressive metaphors and quirky observations that in their miniature perfection recall the melodic dalliances of the original Chopin. In the end, this humoresque is a stylistic triumph, and much credit has to go to translator Mark Polizzotti, who does an amazing job of finding English equivalents for Echenoz's gems, and to Dalkey Archive, a publisher worth following.

shimmer's review against another edition

5.0

Like everything I've read by Echenoz so far, this novel is a strange delight: it's a spy novel that strips away the "point" of a spy novel -- the secrets, the surprises, the big reveal -- and delivers only the structure and shape of the genre, in exuberant language and crisp detail. There are intrigues, and shadowy figures (like the one-legged courier), and behind-the-scenes machinations, but none of that is the point. Or maybe the fact that it isn't the point is the point... one or the other, perhaps. Reading Chopin's Move is a bit like watching a magic show, in that you know it's all sleight of hand with little or nothing of any firmness behind it, but done so well you're more than willing to go along with the illusion as long as it lasts. The sheer energy of the performance is the thing, but that, too, raises questions about how much more interesting our own lives become when we fill them with codes and intrigues -- even meaningless ones.