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A review by trve_zach
Approximate Man & Other Writings: & Other Writings by Tristin Tzara
Reading this on tour while sitting in green rooms, wearing noise canceling headphones and blasting Tim Hecker to block out everything around me, allowing me to remove myself from reality seems like the only way to take in this material. Multiple times while reading, I’d stop in awe of some beautiful passage (and listed some below).
There’s the impossibility of talking about art, the ineffable nature of it and its effect. And as with all surrealist/dada literature, you’re enjoyment of this will depend entirely on how much you love language and new combinations of words and phrases. I love this kind of thing a whole lot, and the title work is some of the best I’ve come across. I know I’ll be able to return to this work time and time again and find new things.
“nerves nourished on leisurely faithfulness the dampness of living stars
sees the evil from the root to the stone
the wind reaps the tresses of our hopes” (41)
“…the faultless amber of your majestic torment” (38)
“we are made of mirrors and air” (44)
“I sing the incalculable alms of bitterness
hurled at us by a sky of stone —food of shame and death-rattle
in us laughs the abyss
that no moderation penetrates
that no voice ventures to brighten” (65)
“hope is healed on the sadness of cleared consciousness
a sickness like another a habit to develop
consolation” (84)
“age is ready to take you in its artful net
from which escape is difficult and memories sift painfully” (85)
“in each pore of the skin
there is a garden and all the fauna of pains” (86)
There’s the impossibility of talking about art, the ineffable nature of it and its effect. And as with all surrealist/dada literature, you’re enjoyment of this will depend entirely on how much you love language and new combinations of words and phrases. I love this kind of thing a whole lot, and the title work is some of the best I’ve come across. I know I’ll be able to return to this work time and time again and find new things.
“nerves nourished on leisurely faithfulness the dampness of living stars
sees the evil from the root to the stone
the wind reaps the tresses of our hopes” (41)
“…the faultless amber of your majestic torment” (38)
“we are made of mirrors and air” (44)
“I sing the incalculable alms of bitterness
hurled at us by a sky of stone —food of shame and death-rattle
in us laughs the abyss
that no moderation penetrates
that no voice ventures to brighten” (65)
“hope is healed on the sadness of cleared consciousness
a sickness like another a habit to develop
consolation” (84)
“age is ready to take you in its artful net
from which escape is difficult and memories sift painfully” (85)
“in each pore of the skin
there is a garden and all the fauna of pains” (86)