begemot's review
3.0
Having read "Journey to the End of the Night", I was nothing short of excited to explore Celine's work once more. My enthusiasm was aided by my interest in French history, and the creation of a Vichy enclave during the Liberation is an event in the war which is completely overlooked. I did not mind Celine's writing style- why shouldn't a man write the way he thinks, as opposed to superfluous prose? I picked up the book eagerly, and dived right in.
I surfaced some time later, and contemplated where I had gotten. As it turned out, an obese slug with a severe slime deficiency could have made more progress than Celine did in writing that novel. A hundred pages in, and he was still griping about how he doesn't have access to social security and how people keep nicking his trash cans. He acted like the French were mistreating the reincarnation of Christ, as opposed to, you know, a fascist collaborator who published anti Semitic writings so virulent, even the Germans thought it was counterproductive. If the NAZIS are muttering, "That Celine, he's a bit much, isn't he?" then you know that you are, at best, a morally dubious individual, and perhaps you are not entitled to own trash cans like the rest of us.
The book picked up a bit after that, and through the complaints about people giving him dirty looks, fascinating insights about a besieged group of fanatics residing in a nether zone between reality and delusion were discerned. My attention sagged a tad bit towards the end- as to where exactly, I cannot put my finger in it, but I reckon it was around the time he described administering a prostate exam to a Nazi. Which was an amusing analogy for the German state of affairs in 1944, but the details of a man getting a finger put up his bottom was not a necessary piece of information I needed to know at the age of 22.
The book was interesting, and offered rare information about a brief drop in the monstrous epoch of the Second World War. It was written in a sardonic, humorous way, and if you have any interest in that era of history and a considerable amount of patience, then give this book a go. Just do not make the mistake I made, and expect a more traditional historical memoir. This is mainly a book about a bitter old man who does not like his furniture, who also happened to have been a part of a puppet government-in-exile.
I surfaced some time later, and contemplated where I had gotten. As it turned out, an obese slug with a severe slime deficiency could have made more progress than Celine did in writing that novel. A hundred pages in, and he was still griping about how he doesn't have access to social security and how people keep nicking his trash cans. He acted like the French were mistreating the reincarnation of Christ, as opposed to, you know, a fascist collaborator who published anti Semitic writings so virulent, even the Germans thought it was counterproductive. If the NAZIS are muttering, "That Celine, he's a bit much, isn't he?" then you know that you are, at best, a morally dubious individual, and perhaps you are not entitled to own trash cans like the rest of us.
The book picked up a bit after that, and through the complaints about people giving him dirty looks, fascinating insights about a besieged group of fanatics residing in a nether zone between reality and delusion were discerned. My attention sagged a tad bit towards the end- as to where exactly, I cannot put my finger in it, but I reckon it was around the time he described administering a prostate exam to a Nazi. Which was an amusing analogy for the German state of affairs in 1944, but the details of a man getting a finger put up his bottom was not a necessary piece of information I needed to know at the age of 22.
The book was interesting, and offered rare information about a brief drop in the monstrous epoch of the Second World War. It was written in a sardonic, humorous way, and if you have any interest in that era of history and a considerable amount of patience, then give this book a go. Just do not make the mistake I made, and expect a more traditional historical memoir. This is mainly a book about a bitter old man who does not like his furniture, who also happened to have been a part of a puppet government-in-exile.
steamedbun's review
5.0
read this when i was six at my grandpas house who coincidentally is also an alcoholic who can talk about a suit enough to fill half that book
chalicotherex's review
5.0
As for the work itself... I had tried to read this before and gave up about a third of the way in... my mistake... the action... picks up after he meets his gaucho friend... it's worth reading... I loved it!... Funny... life affirming, in the most brutal sense possible... I promise I will revisit Journey and Death on the Instalment Plan... But first I'll read North and Rigadoon...
Avoided reading Celine for a long time... Mostly it was the anti-semite thing... I mean... there are plenty of defences of him, that he didn't mean it... You can be a good doctor for 35 years!... and no one cares!... but you write one (three) pamphlets... and no one forgets!... But really, he was probably a better person than, say, Orwell... the Burmese jailer!... You could come up with a hundred examples... When I finally picked up Journeski... those damn dots!... It takes getting used to... Eventually you realize they're sort of like an em dash in English... but still it takes time... and I'm not entirely sold on it now...
The best parts... too numerous to name them all here... but what sticks out in my mind... he traded cyanide to become the Vichy governor of St. Pierre and Miquelon... and his furniture!... His advice on why not to do a Sylvia Plath... insights into the collapse of a regime... and his battle for advances... that is, his struggle with his publishers...
Avoided reading Celine for a long time... Mostly it was the anti-semite thing... I mean... there are plenty of defences of him, that he didn't mean it... You can be a good doctor for 35 years!... and no one cares!... but you write one (three) pamphlets... and no one forgets!... But really, he was probably a better person than, say, Orwell... the Burmese jailer!... You could come up with a hundred examples... When I finally picked up Journeski... those damn dots!... It takes getting used to... Eventually you realize they're sort of like an em dash in English... but still it takes time... and I'm not entirely sold on it now...
The best parts... too numerous to name them all here... but what sticks out in my mind... he traded cyanide to become the Vichy governor of St. Pierre and Miquelon... and his furniture!... His advice on why not to do a Sylvia Plath... insights into the collapse of a regime... and his battle for advances... that is, his struggle with his publishers...
fitzwilliam's review against another edition
DNF...possibly my first ever but I just can't stand it anymore! string a full sentence together, man!
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