“A book is a slow, unavoidable catastrophe,” we read in a late entry to On Elegance While Sleeping, Viscount Lascano Tegui’s fictional diary. The book is. Emilio Lascano Tegui is the author of On Elegance While Sleeping ( avg rating, ratings, 30 reviews, published ). Lascano Tegui de is the author of Muchacho de San Telmo. ( avg rating, 1 rating, 0 reviews, published ) and El Libro Celeste ( avg rating.
|Published (Last):||20 June 2013|
|PDF File Size:||11.20 Mb|
|ePub File Size:||16.83 Mb|
|Price:||Free* [*Free Regsitration Required]|
The city, tegii our fearsome urbanized future, will tegiu their birth. He is a bookish sort, from his childhood attempts to “undermine my appearance” by adopting the wardrobes of the characters in whatever novels he was reading to his own writerly ambitions he’s thinking about writing: They don’t trust in the asphyxiating monotony of everyday life. The sinister novel is structured as a fictional diary that culminates in a horrific final act of violence, but the tension builds slowly as the diarist occupies himself with elements of the everyday: The complete review ‘s Review:.
He left Argentina for Europe, while his protagonist only leaves Bougival during a brief stint in the army, but both are obsessed with the possibility of human transformation. But there is, despite the book’s brevity, and the fact that it is twgui pleasurable to read at which point let me salute the translation much going on.
On Elegance While Sleeping by Viscount Lascano Tegui
But winter slaughtered them nonetheless in the ambush of my clear glass. The writer is from the Parisian suburb Bougival: And I, behind this glass, watched them die.
The narrator lives in a fog of lust, and tells us of the time he spent during national service in Tunisia; a father pimps his daughters for a franc at a teguk, and by the end of six months our narrator has spent francs — if, of course, we are to believe him. Show 25 25 50 All.
De la elegancia mientras se duerme – US. But what a treat it is. But it is the humdrum of everyday life that is its greatest failing. N o, I hadn’t heard of him either.
This makes life itself an artistic project of sorts. By setting the diary several decades in the past—though the specific dates remain uncertain, the events seem to take place tehui some point in the latter half of the 19th century—Lascano Tegui uses his portrait of progressive mental and moral degeneration to suggest the much further advanced infirmity of the modern world. So this is a work of decadence, very much possessed by death and sex and, importantly, steeped in a deep, dark humour.
And if you have, then I take my hat off to you.
Order by newest oldest recommendations. Topics Books Nicholas Lezard’s choice.
Emilio Lascano Tegui’s “On Elegance While Sleeping – Words Without Borders
Similarly the illustrative quotes chosen here are merely those the complete review subjectively believes represent the tenor and judgment of the review as a whole. Beauty is lost, irrevocably. The writer tries his best — “No, no verse!
April 24, 18— Trgui I already mentioned that I had a myopic relative who worked as an eye doctor and who fished with a tall reed, looking through opera glasses? Suffice it to say, she who bestowed this gift upon me did so with the same ease and elegance as the doves of Aphrodite must alight upon the breasts of sleeping women Sogno senza fine – Italia.
And sometimes his pronouncements betray his preoccupations with change. It was around that point — about 40 pages in — that I realised I tegji reading something approaching a work of genius; something no one else could have written. I inherited his enormous delight in neatness. On Elegance While Lascanno is an odd work of fiction.
tegji While it is presented in diary-form, with relatively short, dated entries, these are concerned less with the protagonist’s present than his past: This is an examination of a peculiar kind of suburban tedium, where not even death can grab the attention of the old women looking out of their windows, where to love and to be loved are the highest blessings, and where what looks from a distance to be “a child, or a beautiful woman” turns out, on closer inspection, to be “nothing more than a small dog, a camera, or a bicycle”.
Let us just be as we are: Her translation delights, and renders a diary that is already pleasurably quirky utterly lasczno. A wonderful and wonderfully bizarre little work. Though he departs, as he often does, from among the shadowy figures of his childhood, the narrator is also ruminating here upon his own isolation from the world, a world that he can see but not touch or connect with.
Emilio Lascano Tegui
There are strange resonances, which suggest a strong aesthetic integrity, and it is not a portrait of a one-dimensional man. Like what you read? Now, originality is a double-edged attribute, not necessarily wholly desirable for its own sake as in Johnson’s acidic formula: There will come a day when no more poets will be born.
Winter always enticed me to the windows of my room, to watch the sad lives of the townspeople blanketed in snow, and so, in the months beforehand, I always made certain to prepare my observatory: As a result, he was meticulous in all things.
The Seine flows through our village. Such pronouncements endear the narrator to us and make him seem somewhat familiar. This holds true all the way up until the grand ,ascano of the diary, the shock of which shatters all that glass that has separated the writer from the world.
From the self-penned epigraph “I write out of pure voluptuousness. On Lessons Learned and Not Learn After all, there are lascaano that many Argentinian modernists whose names trip readily off the tongue for anyone in Europe besides perhaps Clive James, and Viscount Tegui was fairly obscure even in Argentina.
Have I already mentioned that I had teui myopic relative who worked as an eye doctor and who fished with a tall reed, looking through teguo glasses? And he spends much of the latter part of his musings planning to write a book, hoping that art will be a way out of his own illness and unhappiness. Yet the playful note struck in the epigraph does not disappear from the rest of the book, despite the descent into madness portrayed. Loading comments… Trouble loading?
How lucky we are to have the chance to read this collection of brain-dandruff, marvelously translated by Idra Novey.
Seeing is already a pleasure, of course, but clarity makes it a pleasure twice over.