The Ways of the French

North By Louis-Ferdinand Celine, translated by Ralph Manheim Delacorte, 454 pp., $10

Lying Woman By Jean Giraudoux, translated by Richard Howard Winter House, 232 pp., $6.95 “What a way to write!” Celine says of his flocculent prose. “I ought to be ashamed!” He ought, indeed. It is wearying to read phrases linked by dots (“I open one eye … I see her . . . it’s almost dark . . . she’s looking out through the slit … I go over . . . movements”), yet Céline wrote all his books this way. The result is a dyslectic hiccough, inspiring the reader with better to do to skim assiduously. Obviously Céline never read his own books, and as for the reader, he held him in contempt as une espéce de merde.

GD

About the Author

Guy Davenport

Featured Tags

North By Louis-Ferdinand Celine, translated by Ralph Manheim Delacorte, 454 pp., $10

Lying Woman By Jean Giraudoux, translated by Richard Howard Winter House, 232 pp., $6.95 “What a way to write!” Celine says of his flocculent prose. “I ought to be ashamed!” He ought, indeed. It is wearying to read phrases linked by dots (“I open one eye … I see her . . . it’s almost dark . . . she’s looking out through the slit … I go over . . . movements”), yet Céline wrote all his books this way. The result is a dyslectic hiccough, inspiring the reader with better to do to skim assiduously. Obviously Céline never read his own books, and as for the reader, he held him in contempt as une espéce de merde.