Customer Reviews

I'm Gone: A Novel

5 star:		(3)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

The first short chapter of Echenoz's novel struck me as self-conscious and awkward, perhaps a bad translation, and then . . . magic. I could not put this book down. No wonder this book was a bestseller in France. Echenoz has crafted a finely tuned, fast paced novel of intrigue and personal crisis, a combination that will take you to the end of its 193 pages in no time at all.

Ferrer leaves his wife in the first sentence and embarks on a bizarre journey that takes him into the arms of women, across the tundra of the Arctic Circle, and through the streets of Paris. I won't divulge more of the plot because half the fun of this book is discovering why Ferrer is where he is, and what will happen next. The chapters zigzag through time, taking the reader backward and forward, sometimes sideways to another setting at the same point in time.

And the translation I thought might be substandard? Wrong. This novel vibrates with witty observations that could not possibly be effective with a less than first-rate translator. The descriptions and insights, the way one builds to the next, are astounding. Some are simply hilarious: a pack of unruly sled dogs ignores shouts and whippings to devour a mastodon half frozen in the tundra; Ferrer's assistant Delahaye calls "to mind those anonymous, grayish plants that grow in cities, between the exposed pavements of an abandoned warehouse yard, in the heart of a crack corrupting a ruined facade; a Paris that has "still air rich in toxic gases."

I highly recommend this book both for serious readers and those who want to sample something a little different from the mass market paperbacks lining the walls of airport bookstores.

I love to read (trite, right?). I got wind of this book throught the Times Literary Supplement in which they said that M. Polizzotti got an award for translating a Prix Gouncourt awarded novel called "I'm Gone" by Jean Echenoz. So I ordered it....and read it within one sitting and it reinforced my behavior of seeking out "that one book"...the book that makes you read past your bedtime...because of the plot. But also because of the writing and the way the novelist arranged the piece of fiction. Luckily you do not have to take my word on this...just read the reviews from France and look at this author's stellar history (every book he writes seems to get an award). It frustrates me that I in the USA am often not privy to brilliant fiction writers throughout the world merely because their works are not tranlated into English. I thank Mr. Polizzotti for translating this work. What a wonderful read.....one reviewer ahead of me (on amazon.com) said he knew what what was coming before it was read. I pride myself in being somewhat intelligent (Univ of Chicago Professor) and did not see the major "punchline" coming. So maybe the other reviewer knows more than me but I wanted to say from my perspective, this was one of the best works of modern-day fiction I have read ever.

This short novel is a potpourri of genres--it's a mystery, a social commentary on life in Paris (with the requisite French digs at other countries, including the U.S.), a travel/adventure story, a meditation about love and lust, and a study of midlife crisis. Its main character, Felix Ferrer, a marginally successful gallery owner whose main preoccupation is his own ego, is interested in locating and then selling paleoarctic artifacts from a ship lost near the Arctic Circle long ago, when it became icebound. When the artifacts, his former partner, his wife, a succession of girlfriends, and his financial security all disappear within a short period of time, Felix rouses himself and sets out to regain the artifacts, and, perhaps, some control over his life.

Echenoz is an immensely skillful writer. He creates a fast-paced narrative in which Ferrer ranges from his Parisian art gallery, to the Arctic, where he lives with a seal-hunting family (nice contrasts here), and back to Paris and Spain, and Echenoz makes these transitions seamlessly. His imagery is often striking, and there's a good deal of sardonic humor and light satire about Parisian life. His ability to make the reader see the world through the eyes of Ferrer, and his observations about people, are sometimes startling and original.

Unfortunately, the "hero," Ferrer, is so blasé and so obnoxiously self-satisfied that it's difficult to care much about his world or what happens to him, and the whole novel feels smug. The unnamed narrator's snide and self-important asides degenerate rapidly from cute to annoying ("Personally, I've had it up to here with [a certain character]. His daily life is too boring."). The characters' casual cruelty toward everyone in a subordinate position, their universal lack of "engagement," and their treatment of women as objects further distance the reader and reflect the feeling that becoming involved or caring intensely about anything at all is somehow unsophisticated or bourgeois. Although the author is hugely talented and his book did win the Prix Goncourt, it lacks the vitality and sense of commitment I've come to associate with this prize. And if it's satire, it somehow rings too true. Mary Whipple

I won't bore you by repeating what other reviewers have said. Read their reviews if you have a few minutes. But, mainly, get your hands on this book and enjoy it for what it is: a hoot, a beautifully written and translated hoot, at that. Just one question: who owns the screen rights?

Most of the words in this book are devoted to descriptions of the appearance of neighborhoods, buildings and people. The next most common use of words is the description of actions. To me, the depiction of appearances and actions is best done by film and rather than by novels. I like novels because they can get into people's thoughts and emotions in a way films rarely do. This novel did little of that.

This novel was occasionally clever or funny. But only occasionally.

Was this really the best book of 1999 in France? I hope not.

"I'm Gone", by Mr. Jean Echenoz is the first of his works that I have read. I always approach a translated book with some trepidation, as the work of the translator is critical. Not every word translates from one language to another, and this is even more prevalent when it comes to slang or language that has taken on day-to-day uses outside of a traditional dictionary. So when it comes time to comment you never really know how close to the original you have read. The hope is the Author has picked an excellent person for the translation, but I do not know of a place where translators are ranked.

In any event, "I'm Gone", is a book that is at times very clever and funny, but only occasionally. The plot was not unique and the Author tips his hand well before the book's end, giving the reader a decent chance of taking a step that removes any of the surprise when the plot clearly is trying for just that later in the book. I found much of the book to be too vague on the players, and on events that were anything but minor. Many of the characters had about as much that was interesting about them as the amount of luggage they moved with.

The entire legal aspect may make sense if there is something unique about The European Union beyond what the Author shares. However that portion of the book just seemed to make no sense, it was just another portion that happened in a bit of a haze as nothing prepares the reader. Finally, this is one of those works that ends almost in mid-sentence. I have always felt this was a very difficult way of ending a work, and that it seems more of an attempt at being stylish that substantive.

The Author did write some great material, however overall the book was a disappointment.