Customer Reviews

Running: A Novel

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

 

 

Jean Echenoz has become one of my favorite contemporary writers. His recent novel based on the last months of the life of Maurice Ravel, and now his more recent novel based on the career of Emil Zatopek, are small masterpieces of narrative art. Both, really, are novellas, not novels, and as such should be valued for their skilful evocation of the exact elements of behavior, observable inner character, and revealing involvement in public events, aspects of the lives of these historical characters that can be narrated while maintaining the confidence of the reader that even when private emotions, inner thoughts are described, they are based on valid and trustworthy inferences. The fictional elements, in other words, of these novellas are seamlessly integrated with what can be presented as verifiable public information.

Echenoz takes the reader just deeply enough into the inner lives of these men--very different kinds of artists and personalities, in these two cases--to give us some of the pleasures of the novel (or the definitive biography) without overextending the right of the fiction writer to construct inner lives or hypothetical relationships. In this, his work is more spare and disciplined than, for example, the excellent portrayal by Colm Toibin of Henry James in The Master. That fine novel fully exploits the poetic and literary license to create a full and deep portrait of the aging James. By comparison, Echenoz's novels might seem to be line drawings set beside a rich oil portrait, and we are free to insist that the achievement of the great artist of the line is to capture, by suggestion, a depth and range of character and experience that is superb in its own right, though of a different kind from the elaborated oil.

Another analogy might be to a piano transcription of a great orchestral work--say Liszt's transcriptions of Beethoven's symphonies. Echenoz manages prodigious feats of empathy and characterization with his single instrument--a prose style that occasionally feels like a straightforward summary account in an encyclopedia article, but at others (most of the time) resonates with implied and crystallized significance. I certainly look forward to more of Jean Echenoz's fictions.

"Running" is a fictionalized account of the life of the Emil Zátopek (1922-2000), who reluctantly took up competitive running in Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia as a young man, and became one of the premier long-distance runners of the mid-20th century, winning gold and silver medals at the 1948 Olympics, three gold medals at the 1952 Olympics, and setting world records in nine different events.

Zátopek's running style was most unorthodox, which Echenoz describes in detail in this brilliant passage:

"Emil, you'd think he was excavating, like a ditch digger, or digging deep into himself, as if he were in a trance. Ignoring every time-honored rule and any thought of elegance, Emil advances laboriously, in a jerky, tortured manner, all in fits and starts. He doesn't hide the violence of his efforts, which shows in his wincing, grimacing, tetanized face, constantly contorted by a rictus quite painful to see. His features are twisted, as if torn by appalling suffering; sometimes his tongue sticks out. It's as if he had a scorpion in each shoe, catapulting him on. He seems far away when he runs, terribly far away, concentrating so hard he's not even there--except that he's more than than anyone else; and hunkered down between his shoulders, on that neck always leaning in the same direction, his head bobs along endlessly, lolling and wobbling from side to side."

Videos of several of Zátopek's races on YouTube are readily available, which would make any running coach cringe in horror.

Zátopek is hailed as a national hero, and joins the Czech army, which uses him as a tool to promote communism. He is restricted from traveling abroad during the Gottwald regime, and his comments to the press are censored and rewritten by the party. However, he has a good life, with a happy marriage to another Olympic champion, and a good career, until public comments in support of Alexander Dub'ek during the Prague Spring of 1968 led to his dismissal from the Communist Party and internal exile.

The descriptions of Zátopek's running style and accounts of his most famous races were excellent, and the highlights of the book for me, as I ran for my high school's cross-country and spring track teams. His life in communist Czechoslovakia is covered in lesser detail, especially his exile after 1968. I would have liked more detail into his personal life outside of running, but I suspect that these details were not available to Echenoz or were sanitized by communist censors. However, "Running" was a fabulous and quick read, and is highly recommended.

The Olympics morphed into something more than an icon of national pride and unity. "Running" is a novel surrounding Emil Zatopek, famed Czech runner in the 1952 Olympics. Telling a unique story of not starting til late in life and how he became entombed in the Communist politics surrounding him. "Running " is fascinating novel that draws on the history of the Cold War well, as well as telling the story of a remarkable athlete.

I have to eat a little crow after meeting with my reading group(see dismissive review below): it's the construction of this book, the allegorical nature that makes it interesting and, ultimately, a work of art illuminating the torment of the 20th century (Nazi and Soviet oppression) imposing itself on an individual and on a society. A few notes: parallel movement AND duplication of words between first and last chapters; no trip described in depth; economy of language; absurdity of the world, of destiny; the tragedy of Europe; stoicism of Zatopek/Czechoslovakia; lack of individualism..

This is a book that is meant to be read for its irony and for its technical brilliance. Still, if I'm going to read a "novel", I want to feel engaged with the characters, and I didn't with Zatopek.
********************

This book was chosen for my French reading group (which will meet in 2 hours). I read the book in French, since the point of the group is reading and discussing the book in French.

I know absolutely nothing about the person reported in the first two reviews as the subject of this novel. I know nothing about running. (I knew nothing about the World Bank either, yet the history of it, The Road from Huddersfield, by James Morris, remains one of the most engrossing books I have ever read).

Now I know a little bit about running, and a tinier bit about how governments use military personnel as propaganda. About Zatopek, I now know only that his running style was off-beat, but he won anyway.

I thought his character remained wooden, lifeless, the whole way through. He did this, they did that; he ran this race and won, the people cheered for him. He became a national hero and (apparently) ended up in ignominy. That does not a novel make. I would NEVER have guessed that this was a real person being described.

It was a waste of my time.