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arirang's review
3.0
Empty Words is translated by Annie McDermott (c0-translator of [b:Feebleminded|43133981|Feebleminded|Ariana Harwicz|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1553595406l/43133981._SY75_.jpg|43273682]) from Mario Levrero’s 1996 novel El Discurso Vario, and published by the wonderful And Other Stories.
In an illuminating translator’s note McDermott says:
"In Latin America, it's said that Chile produces poets, Argentina produces short story writers, Mexico produces novelists, and Uruguay produces 'los raros' — the strange ones. Levrero was a raro of the highest order, though he rejected that label, complaining that it meant journalists and critics were forever wanting him to do new strange things."
Empty Words is certainly an unusual novel, the sort that were it by a UK author would be a strong Goldsmiths Prize contender, and one to watch for in the Republic of Consciousness Prize.
The novel started as a form of diary, the narrator sharing Levrero’s biographical details and occupations. One strand, per the author’s own introduction, consists of a “series of short handwriting exercises, written with no other purpose than that,” although our diarist immediately suggests another purpose:
My graphological self therapy begins today. This method (suggested a while ago by a crazy friend) stems from the notion – which is central to graphology - that there’s a profound connection between a person’s hand writing and his or her character, and from the behaviourist tenet that changes in behavioue can lead to changes on a psychological level.
An example being practising continuous script “without lifting the pen” to improve my concentration and the continuity of my thoughts, which are currently all over the place.
In practice, as the narrator notes, he finds that these exercises are “becoming less calligraphical and more literary as time goes on”.
A second strand - the Empty Discourse of the title - is introduced as a “single, unified text that’s more ‘literary’ in construction,” although it starts with no real subject matter:
There’s a flow, a rhythm, a seemingly empty form; the discourse could end up addressing any topic, image or idea. This indifference makes me suspicious. I suspect there are all kinds of things - too many- lurking behind the apparent emptiness... That’s why I decided to write this, beginning with the form, with the flow itself, and introducing the problem of emptiness as its subject matter. I hope that this way I’ll gradually discover the real subject matter, which for now is disguised as emptiness..
The topics discussed are often domestic, the narrator’s relationship with his wife and teenage son, and, in rather more detail, the family dog, Pongo.
On I go, trying to write about uninteresting things, perhaps heralding a new era of boredom as a literary movement.
It is a fascinating and playful mix in McDermott’s (as always) excellent translation, literary in concept if not in content.
That said I did have a couple of reservations about the execution:
- at times (for me, the sections about the dog, as no pet fan) the narrator does indeed come perilously close to creating the era of boredom he claims to desire, although this is partially redeemed by his speculations about whether these domestic stories should be taken as having hidden meanings, or purely at face value;
- for a novel based around handwriting exercises, one might have expected more typographical innovation. Although perhaps the very lack of this is intended to be part of the fun.
Overall a 3.5 star read and I particularly look forward to the translation, forthcoming as The Luminous Novel from the same publisher and translator, of his Thomas Bernhard influenced La Novela Luminosa, publishes originally in 2005, one year after his death.
As the narrator of that novel writes of Bernhard:
“no puedo dejar de leer, me cuesta hacer una pausa, por la fuerza hipnótica de su estilo tan pero tan absolutamente chiflado"
In an illuminating translator’s note McDermott says:
"In Latin America, it's said that Chile produces poets, Argentina produces short story writers, Mexico produces novelists, and Uruguay produces 'los raros' — the strange ones. Levrero was a raro of the highest order, though he rejected that label, complaining that it meant journalists and critics were forever wanting him to do new strange things."
Empty Words is certainly an unusual novel, the sort that were it by a UK author would be a strong Goldsmiths Prize contender, and one to watch for in the Republic of Consciousness Prize.
The novel started as a form of diary, the narrator sharing Levrero’s biographical details and occupations. One strand, per the author’s own introduction, consists of a “series of short handwriting exercises, written with no other purpose than that,” although our diarist immediately suggests another purpose:
My graphological self therapy begins today. This method (suggested a while ago by a crazy friend) stems from the notion – which is central to graphology - that there’s a profound connection between a person’s hand writing and his or her character, and from the behaviourist tenet that changes in behavioue can lead to changes on a psychological level.
An example being practising continuous script “without lifting the pen” to improve my concentration and the continuity of my thoughts, which are currently all over the place.
In practice, as the narrator notes, he finds that these exercises are “becoming less calligraphical and more literary as time goes on”.
A second strand - the Empty Discourse of the title - is introduced as a “single, unified text that’s more ‘literary’ in construction,” although it starts with no real subject matter:
There’s a flow, a rhythm, a seemingly empty form; the discourse could end up addressing any topic, image or idea. This indifference makes me suspicious. I suspect there are all kinds of things - too many- lurking behind the apparent emptiness... That’s why I decided to write this, beginning with the form, with the flow itself, and introducing the problem of emptiness as its subject matter. I hope that this way I’ll gradually discover the real subject matter, which for now is disguised as emptiness..
The topics discussed are often domestic, the narrator’s relationship with his wife and teenage son, and, in rather more detail, the family dog, Pongo.
On I go, trying to write about uninteresting things, perhaps heralding a new era of boredom as a literary movement.
It is a fascinating and playful mix in McDermott’s (as always) excellent translation, literary in concept if not in content.
That said I did have a couple of reservations about the execution:
- at times (for me, the sections about the dog, as no pet fan) the narrator does indeed come perilously close to creating the era of boredom he claims to desire, although this is partially redeemed by his speculations about whether these domestic stories should be taken as having hidden meanings, or purely at face value;
- for a novel based around handwriting exercises, one might have expected more typographical innovation. Although perhaps the very lack of this is intended to be part of the fun.
Overall a 3.5 star read and I particularly look forward to the translation, forthcoming as The Luminous Novel from the same publisher and translator, of his Thomas Bernhard influenced La Novela Luminosa, publishes originally in 2005, one year after his death.
As the narrator of that novel writes of Bernhard:
“no puedo dejar de leer, me cuesta hacer una pausa, por la fuerza hipnótica de su estilo tan pero tan absolutamente chiflado"
muneera's review
reflective
tense
slow-paced
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.75
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