The Thumbnail Book Reviews
by John Q McDonald --- 4 August 2015
by Raymond Queneau
Ever since Row, Row, Row Your Boat, we have been brought up with the idea that all of life might be just a dream. You are dreaming your life, or someone is dreaming your life. There have been recent suggestions, after all, that we are just part of a vast computer simulation (and there is even some evidence to support that theory!). So, which side are you on? Are you the dreamer or the dreamed? This is all fodder for late night conversations and some convoluted literature.
So, meet the Duke of Auge, a French nobleman whose life leaps forward, from episode to episode, 175 years at a time, and starting at the time of the Crusades. And meet Cidrolin, resident of a barge, tied up along a muck-filed river near Paris. He lives a quiet existence, talking to passers-by on the road and erasing the graffiti that regularly appears on his fence. Whenever Cidrolin falls asleep, we fall into the world of the Duke of Auge, which has echoes of Cidrolin's life. Or, perhaps, the Duke dreams Cidrolin, whose life has echoes of the Duke's adventures. Eventually, as the Duke tumbles through history, he ends up in the present day (the present day of this 1966 novel). Cidrolin suspects something odd is going on in his extraordinary dreams, but nobody really wants to hear about them. The third of his daughters is just getting married, and he hires a laconic maid who plays cards and evades the dreamer's stories. The Duke, meanwhile, lives a quietly belligerent life of the aristocracy, in conflict with the various kings under whom he serves, and arguing with clerics about the existence of men prior to Adam and Eve. The Duke's joke of painting the cave walls at Lescaux is reflected in Cidrolin's daily chore of painting over the graffiti on his fence.
It all sounds like not a lot goes on here. But there is a lot of activity in the Duke's dreamy life. It is episodic, though, and each stop through history is interrupted by Cidrolin's waking life. But the key element to this tale is Queneau's use of language and story structure. The back and forth leaping, overlapping conversation and references in both dream worlds to each other are full of humor, wit and sharp playful dialogue and descriptions. It must have been a considerable challenge for the translator, Barbara Wright. The story is comical, erudite, and, no doubt, full of a particular Gallic humor. But it is odd, to say the least. Thought provoking, yes, but odd. And did we mention the talking horses? Don't forget about the talking horses.
Also by Queneau: [Zazie dans le métro]