little bit at a loss with Monsieur RobbeGrillet, His work is undeniably appealing in its distinctive approach to narrative, And yet this does feel like a book with a deepseated evil emanating from it, Not that I think that is necessarily a disqualifier, and maybe it speaks to RobbeGrillet's skill as a writer that his depictions of rape and dismemberment feel.
. . unencumbered is perhaps the right word, . . in comparison to some other works that are undoubtedly more grotesque but shackled to a narrative structure that trades in a more obvious construction.
I think, as of now, I can say that I appreciated Recollections more than I enjoyed it, Very dark and disturbing. I wonder why he took this route, Though I understood even less of this than I did my previous and only other RobbeGrillet read, sitelinkThe Voyeur, I actually enjoyed this one a bit more.
Again, it was virtually impossible for me to follow exactly what was happening much of the time, but the novel was filled with loads of mesmerizing and surrealyetdisturbing images, many of which will still unsettle me at random times even though it's been over two weeks since I'd finished reading it.
I also appreciated the fact that in the two decade interval between having written The Voyeur and Recollections, RobbeGrillet appears to have really toned down his somewhat overbearing use of repetitious descriptions.
My rating may seem a bit low considering the impact it had and still has on me, The problem is I felt no real connection with the main characters or were they the same character, who knows, All I can tell you is that, somewhere, there's a secret, sinister sex cult, some vaguely supernatural goingson, missing girls, and a detective trying to figure it all out, whose firstperson narration will suddenly morph sometimes midparagraph into that of .
Are they the same person Is it some weird Mulholland Drive/Lost Highwayesque personality swap Or is RobbeGrillet just playing around with perspective I don't know, and the fact that I eventually stopped caring is the main reason I can't give this a higher recommendation.
I did like the overall dreamlike or oneiric, if you want to get all fancy atmosphere, however,
So far, in my limited experience reading this author, I feel like his work would translate very well to the screen, and the sudden shifts in time, location, and perspective would work more effectively in a visual medium.
I look forward to finally checking out the classic French film, Last Year at Marienbad, for which he wrote the screenplay.
.Stars.
sitelink combangkok. htm
Classic RobbeGrillet, Very detailed, surgical descriptions. Like reading a geometry or logic book written by an obsessivecompulsive lunatic with a fine arts degree in architecture, Not a lot happens, but something about the meticulous methodology makes you think every detail must mean something, Alain RobbeGrillet was the leader of the Nouveau Roman "new novel" movement among the French literati in thes, The Nouveau Roman movement explored new styles of writing, with particular emphasis on detailed descriptions and depersonalization of the novel, "Recollections of the Golden Triangle" was one of RobbeGrillet's later works, published in,
"Recollections of the Golden Triangle" involves a murder mystery, a bizarre cult, an evil doctor, hidden passageways, and detectives who may or may not be trustworthy.
Sounds interesting, right
Unfortunately, it's not, This novel is so depersonalized to the point where the characters have no life, The writing is precise but dry, centering on minute details that are building up the related crimes/mysteries depicted in the book but not on the characters themselves.
This approach appeals to the mind but not to the heart, In focusing so much attention on minutiae, RobbeGrillet has completely ignored the emotional aspects of the novel,
With all the violent crime and intrigue, there should be some passion here, or at least some emotional response, But that aspect is completely missing, Numerous right angles leading to, This book is so crazy that it definitely belongs to the speculative field, While I read the book twice and started to understand it better, I need at least one more reread to make real sense of it though it may still be that there is no such "real sense' with the time shifts, the narrative shifts and the moving around of characters, but it is a truly haunting and visual book that just throws at you unforgettable imagery
If you want a mind bender which is short but offers more than novels three times its size, this one is highly recommended.
Everything is liquid. Everything vacillates and fluctuates Townscapes turn into derelict mazes, tangled labyrinths lead to grotesque spectacles, nightmarish scenes change into fatal erotic visions Everything is not what it seems to be Everything looks
as if painted by René Magritte.
And somewhere in the town, on some lost street, there is a secret door, . . Like in the Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse: “Magic theatre for madmen only price of admission your mind, ”
Is it really a magic theatre Or is it a magic prison Or probably a magic bordello, . .
The best shows are those that take place in our own heads,
. . unencumbered is perhaps the right word, . . in comparison to some other works that are undoubtedly more grotesque but shackled to a narrative structure that trades in a more obvious construction.
I think, as of now, I can say that I appreciated Recollections more than I enjoyed it, Very dark and disturbing. I wonder why he took this route, Though I understood even less of this than I did my previous and only other RobbeGrillet read, sitelinkThe Voyeur, I actually enjoyed this one a bit more.
Again, it was virtually impossible for me to follow exactly what was happening much of the time, but the novel was filled with loads of mesmerizing and surrealyetdisturbing images, many of which will still unsettle me at random times even though it's been over two weeks since I'd finished reading it.
I also appreciated the fact that in the two decade interval between having written The Voyeur and Recollections, RobbeGrillet appears to have really toned down his somewhat overbearing use of repetitious descriptions.
My rating may seem a bit low considering the impact it had and still has on me, The problem is I felt no real connection with the main characters or were they the same character, who knows, All I can tell you is that, somewhere, there's a secret, sinister sex cult, some vaguely supernatural goingson, missing girls, and a detective trying to figure it all out, whose firstperson narration will suddenly morph sometimes midparagraph into that of .
Are they the same person Is it some weird Mulholland Drive/Lost Highwayesque personality swap Or is RobbeGrillet just playing around with perspective I don't know, and the fact that I eventually stopped caring is the main reason I can't give this a higher recommendation.
I did like the overall dreamlike or oneiric, if you want to get all fancy atmosphere, however,
So far, in my limited experience reading this author, I feel like his work would translate very well to the screen, and the sudden shifts in time, location, and perspective would work more effectively in a visual medium.
I look forward to finally checking out the classic French film, Last Year at Marienbad, for which he wrote the screenplay.
.Stars.
A provocative novel by the most influential living French writer, Recollections of the Golden Triangle is a tour de force: a literary thriller constructed of wildly diverse elementsfantasy and dream, erotic invention, and the stuff of popular fiction and movies taken to its farthest limits.
sitelink combangkok. htm
Classic RobbeGrillet, Very detailed, surgical descriptions. Like reading a geometry or logic book written by an obsessivecompulsive lunatic with a fine arts degree in architecture, Not a lot happens, but something about the meticulous methodology makes you think every detail must mean something, Alain RobbeGrillet was the leader of the Nouveau Roman "new novel" movement among the French literati in thes, The Nouveau Roman movement explored new styles of writing, with particular emphasis on detailed descriptions and depersonalization of the novel, "Recollections of the Golden Triangle" was one of RobbeGrillet's later works, published in,
"Recollections of the Golden Triangle" involves a murder mystery, a bizarre cult, an evil doctor, hidden passageways, and detectives who may or may not be trustworthy.
Sounds interesting, right
Unfortunately, it's not, This novel is so depersonalized to the point where the characters have no life, The writing is precise but dry, centering on minute details that are building up the related crimes/mysteries depicted in the book but not on the characters themselves.
This approach appeals to the mind but not to the heart, In focusing so much attention on minutiae, RobbeGrillet has completely ignored the emotional aspects of the novel,
With all the violent crime and intrigue, there should be some passion here, or at least some emotional response, But that aspect is completely missing, Numerous right angles leading to, This book is so crazy that it definitely belongs to the speculative field, While I read the book twice and started to understand it better, I need at least one more reread to make real sense of it though it may still be that there is no such "real sense' with the time shifts, the narrative shifts and the moving around of characters, but it is a truly haunting and visual book that just throws at you unforgettable imagery
If you want a mind bender which is short but offers more than novels three times its size, this one is highly recommended.
Everything is liquid. Everything vacillates and fluctuates Townscapes turn into derelict mazes, tangled labyrinths lead to grotesque spectacles, nightmarish scenes change into fatal erotic visions Everything is not what it seems to be Everything looks
as if painted by René Magritte.
I make my planned detour none the less via the fashion boutique with the doubleexit tryingon cubicles to check that everything is in place.
The young brides and communicants in their immaculate tulle dresses are still smiling with the same air of innocence tender ewes awaiting the sacrificial knife figures or costumes whose freshness comes as a surprise in the landscape of demolitions and ruins dominated by this small and apparently intact building in dubious Directoire style.
And somewhere in the town, on some lost street, there is a secret door, . . Like in the Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse: “Magic theatre for madmen only price of admission your mind, ”
Is it really a magic theatre Or is it a magic prison Or probably a magic bordello, . .
This is a rectangle of glass identical to the first, giving on a completely dark space, The spectacle taking place there supplies provisionally an explanation for those repeated sounds that seemed to come from a metronome or a piano, or from drops of some liquid echoing in the silence.
It is in fact pearls dropping and one after another hitting the exact centre of an oval mirror laid flat on the floor along the axis of the glazed embrasure.
There is nothing else visible in the room but the mirror and the succession of silver pearls falling from an invisible ceiling to strike their own image at the same time as the immaterial surface of reflection with a clear, musical sound that is scarcely deadened by the transparent partition, then bouncing up again very high but following trajectories that incline at a greater or lesser angle from the vertical, depending on infinitesimal variations in impact between the two little glistening spheres, which soon disappear together from the view of the spectators immediately on leaving the zone of light emanating from the consulting room, audition room, observation room, showroom, or interrogation room, etc.
The best shows are those that take place in our own heads,