Customer Reviews

The Tenant

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Roland Topor's book about city life alienation is one of the most brilliant pieces of horror I've read in some time; while reading it I couldn't help it but find some parallels between Topor's book and Thomas Ligotti's own "My Work is not yet Done". Ligotti himself also happens to write a great introduction to this book's main course, focusing on the differences between "pessimistic" receivers of the Novel prize for literature and the REAL pessimist writers that go unnoticed. Also included is a selection of four previously unpublished short stories and a brief gallery representative or Roland Topor's ink drawings.

But please, don't read Donna Di Giacomo's review on this page; I have no idea what she was thinking while writing it, but she pretty much fills it with SPOILERS for 75/80% of the novel, laying there for any unsuspecting readers to find and I have no idea why the amazon staff that usually checks these reviews before public viewing gave it the green light.. Fortunately for me I finished the book long before finding that spoiling wreck, but others might not be that lucky, and this is a very good book to have it mercilessly ruined like that.

Roland Topor's "The Tenant" is nothing if not original; the author impresses his nightmarish worldview without leaving us a moment to draw breath, and as we read deeper and deeper into the tragic tale of M. Trelkovsky we can't help but share his vision, at least for the duration of the novel.

I've long been a fan of the 1976 Roman Polanski film and often wondered why it was so obscure. After reading Topor's novel, I had to appreciate how beautifully Polanski translated this very complex and disturbing work to the screen. Comparing it with the movie you realize Polanski left out only what he absolutely had to, and that wasn't much.

At the outset it seems that Trelkovsky is an average joe who lives in a world of material necessity, habitual discourtesy from others, and bullies. Actually I think this is kind of the point of the novel and the movie: that we inhabit a world of discourtesy, ugliness, and any sensitive or kind impulse we possess will slowly be beaten out of us by the harshness of the people we encounter. We are all bullies to an extent, but the bigger ones will eventually discover us and dictate our lives for us.

We realize fairly quickly that Trelkovsky is not an average joe at all, at least not after moving into Monsieur Zy's apartment. Topor does an amazing job of making the most revolting monsters out of otherwise unremarkable characters; more of his work really needs to be translated, because this is as good as anything Gogol or even Kafka achieved in bringing out the menacing, grotesque qualities of daily encounter. He is mercilessly scrutinized by his neighbors who are, it seems, anal retentive to the point of insanity and are the kind of people who go out of their way to torment an impoverished woman with a disabled child.

Trelkovsky happens to move into the very apartment where a young woman, Simone Choule, committed suicide. Topor uses this as the catalyst for Trelkovsky's eventual erosion of identity and madness. His gradual obsession with this mysterious young woman who in the end we learn very little about (aside from things like her reading tastes, her fashion sense which becomes well known to Trelkovsky in a quite unorthodox way, etc) is paramount in what he perceives as a self-destructive vengeance against his tormentors.

The last few pages of the novel are when things get really disturbing and we realize just how far around the bend Trelkovsky has gone. I couldn't help thinking that there was something very symbolic about his perception of the bathroom opposing his apartment--the lack of a stench, the inhuman cleanliness of Monsieur Zy and the rest of the gang--in opposition to their abhorrent behavior. These are people who will not admit they are people. The slightest sound has them rapping frantically on Trelkovsky's walls, his trash itself seems out of place in their tidy garbage cans, and seemingly do nothing but work, sleep, and bother others to no end. Topor is deadly serious for the most part here, but is also making a hilarious comment on our animality all that more funny for its subtletly. Topor's stories at the end are equally bleak yet have a bit more comedy in them, very dark comedy. The artwork at the end reflects perfectly the mind of the author and is thoroughly enjoyable.

Thomas Ligotti's introduction couldn't be more ideal. Being a fan of his fiction I realized that this is the kind of thing he himself might have written, and the difference in writing style between himself and Topor is actually very slight. He makes a razor sharp distinction between "insiders" and "outsiders" in literature and while that may seem a limited dichotomy at first, after he does the grim explaining you immediately understand. This is as good a piece of literature as any I have read and one of the most intense reading experiences I have ever had. A must read!

Thomas Ligotti, in the introduction to 'The Tenant', advocates the idea that Roland Topor resolved the dilemma posed by the central theme of his novel - that identity is only a delusion - while firmly positioned as an 'outsider'. Outsider, as in disenfranchised, excluded, alien. Insiders are allowed to bring tolerable solutions only, whether true or not - the world demands it. The outsider thumbs his nose at what the world wants; his obligation is to tell the truth as he sees it. It's no wonder, then, that 'The Tenant' is a horror story. The world does not nourish an outsider - it attacks him, and while Roland Topor may have been interested in identity and illusion, what he stunningly brought home to me was just how foul the assault on the outsider is.

In 'The Tenant', a young man named Trelkovsky needs a new apartment. As they are scarce in the city, he feels lucky to find one recently vacated - by a female suicide. Once settled, he tries to conform to the building's standards, but right away, his neighbors begin chastising him for the slightest noise. He alters his behavior to placate them, and avoids his friends to keep them from visiting - and making more noise. Weeks later, someone burglarizes his apartment, and steals his personal items. Slowly he becomes a cipher; and the fiends surrounding him conspire to change him into the person they want him to be - a copy of the woman who previously occupied the apartment. Even more sinister, they will continue until he suffers the same end as she.

Trelkovsky divines their scheme and at first he effusively complies, hoping they will be satisfied with the transformation alone. Later, when that fails, he attempts to escape, but fate inexorably returns him to his apartment, where his neighbors eventually bend him to their will. At the last, he witnesses ungodly sights out of his window overlooking the building's courtyard - and whether Topor meant for the hellish spectacle to be real or the result of a hallucinogenic madness, either is equally sufficient to drive Trelkovsky completely over the edge.

On one hand, the reader might find Mr. Topor's commentary ineffective; much like his character Trelkovsky's passionate, shouted expose of his neighbor's designs near the end of the book is also useless. They are both shouting at the world, which already fully realizes its intentions toward these outsiders. However, I believe there is value here, because while I fervently hope never to find myself in Trelkovsky's extreme situation, I must always recognize that it is extremely possible.

For its themes and warnings, 'The Tenant' is excellent, but I would not recommend a steady diet of similar literature, as the implication of the subject matter is simply too bleak for me. That doesn't make it any less true, but overindulgence in such nihilistic and gloomy ideas by an impressionable reader could leave a negative mark. As far as the writing itself, I'd consider it well done except toward the end where there were some awkward transitions - but the power of Mr. Topor's writing is not in his craft but in his ideas.

Aesthetically, Millipede Press did a fantastic job with this edition, which also includes four of Mr. Topor's out-of-print short stories and a sampling of his artwork (I'm no art critic, but elements there remind me of the surreal and absurdist landscapes of Jim Woodring.) I look forward to other obscure titles this small imprint is bringing out, even if, as in 'The Tenant', the contents are grim and the resolution rather discouraging.

The Tenant is Roland Topor's fictional masterpiece. In it, he offers readers one of the most underrated protagonists in the thriller/horror genre, the ultimate outsider's outsider-as Thomas Ligotti correctly puts it in his introduction-the extremist nonconformist: Monsieur Trelkovski. This top-notch 1964 French novel is probably best known to American readers due in large part to Roman Polanski's incredibly close and respectable film adaptation of the same title, which came out in 1976 and also subsequently has gone on to become a classic horror film in its own right, often appearing on film registers and the best of cinematic lists.

Through a very ordinary plot, a powerful message is conveyed. Monsieur Trelkovski is a mild mannered, docile seeker of a new apartment in Paris, a strenuous task, because he is on the cusp of being evicted out of his old one. Through the grapvine, i.e. his co-worker, Simon, he comes across a possible vacancy in a new apartment, due to the fact that one of the tenants-a Ms. Simone Choule-has decided to "off" herself by jumping out of her apartment window. Though she does not die immediately and barely clings to life, Monsieur Trelkovsky takes a grim initative to visit her in the hospital, and in the simplicity of inappropriate desire, he wills for her demise (though it is unspoken) just so he can be the new renter of the "apartment".

Secretly, almost guiltily, wishing ill will for someone is one thing; it is quite another matter when that ill willed intention becomes an irreversible reality, and in the case of Monsieur Trelkovski, it is at this point when his nightmare begins, because it unreservedly showcases the darkness of the human heart and somehow justifies the eye-for-an-eye mental onslaught that he, Monsieur Trelkovski, battles with as the novel progresses. And it does get bizarre.

As he moves in, he is expected to behave in a manner that is in very strict accordance with the rules of the "apartment," which is no noise, women, pets, parties or people, just him in his two room apartment accompanied by his guilty conscience and a deafening silence. As he bends the rules just a tad bit, odd and unexplainable trouble comes along his path. The acts of harassment are palpable, yet the committers of them are unseen and unheard, for they are stealthy and almost invisible. The odd happenings seem to be signals (or so Trelkovski believes) from the tenants-peer pressure-to make him correspond to their way of life. The deeds somehow alter the present-day reality as he knows, sees and feels it. Slowly, very slowly, incrementally, in fact, he gradually tries to discipline himself to the tenant's way of doing things and the "apartment," which, to some extent, has an unusual supernatural energy of its own, due in large part to the suicide of the previous tenant, Simone Choule.

The longer that he dwells on the life and mysterious death of Simone Choule as well as the unmentioned conspiracy that he firmly believes his neighbors have knowingly thrust upon him, his ultimate act of defiance against them happens via the altering of himself, his very presence and complete identity. To go on further would be a plot spoiler, but chapter by chapter on a wider scale here, Topor brings forth the disturbing insights of how to view institutions, "clicks," general matters of authority, "guises" and aspects of corrupt governments; as a writer of clean, detached prose, he widened the sense of seeing and perceiving. Monsieur Trelkovski acts as a sort of flashlight to be used by a wider audience. A great read.

Topor's drama of mental desintegration and social alienation
is one of those works that never achieved success in the USA
beyond cult status. It's a shame because The Tenant is a master-
ful psycho-existential-drama written in a clear, elegant, concise
style that lends to the text a chillling urgency and realism.Worth
mention is this fine edition. Ligotti's introduction (the undisputed
master of existential horror) is erudite and informative and the
bonus materials are also very fine. Apart from the novel, Centipede
Press gives us a healthy selection of Topor's short stories and his
disturbing surrealistic art.
If you like your psycho-thriller peppered with an existential bent and a distinct european flavour The Tenant is for you.

I should mention that I'm not a big fan of existentialism. As many reviewers have noted, the novel is often best described as existentialist horror.

I liked parts of the book--the feeling of paranoia present in the final chapters is fantastic. Some of the images are haunting: the teeth Trelkovsky finds stashed in a hole under his baseboard...weird. The morning he wakes and realizes he is missing a tooth and knows just where to find it...priceless.

It was the pacing of the novel that disappointed me. Sometimes, pacing issues are due to the translation. This was different. For the first 2/3 of the book, each chapter stands alone, seemingly unconnected. Yes, most elements do come together in the end, but some bits continue to float.

The same is true for certain images/events. Trelkovsky wakes in the night and sees strange, carnival-show goings on in his courtyard. While strange, I finished the book scratching my head. What was that all about? The old, dark woman sitting on a trash can when he tries to sneak into the building at night...also very weird and scary. But, how does she fit into the overall narrative?

Is it all just to unsettle the reader? Do I feel alienated? Yes...but disappointed, too. A string of disturbing events does not a plot make.

Maybe that is the existentialist message--there is no plot in our pathetic, alienated lives.

Roland Topor, The Tenant (Millipede Press, 2004)

Topor's brilliant novel, awash in nihilism, surrealism, and existential angst, is best remembered these days as the basis for one of Roman Polanski's most universally scorned movies. Millipede Press gives us a handsome fortieth anniversary edition here with an introduction by the equally talented wordsmith Thomas Ligotti, who spends twenty pages comparing Topor, favorably, to the equally absurd, but far more optimistic, Pirandello. Ligotti's introduction alone is worth the cover price, or would be had Ligotti turned it into something a bit longer (and thrown in a few Lovecraftian horrors along the way); as it is, even if you hate the novel and selected short stories (with a bit of Topor's artwork) that follow it, you won't feel like you've thrown your money away. Anything Thomas Ligotti writes is well worth your time.

Chances are, though, you're going to like what you read. Ligotti's Pirandello comparison is, of course, apt; Topor has the same sense of whimsy, but it seems disturbingly inappropriate in a book so relentlessly bleak. This, of course, only heightens the outrageousness, the effect of which is that no matter how insane things get, the reader is willing to accept just about anything. Does it work? You bet it does.

It should be no surprise that the accompanying stories here have the quality of fairy tales, and the art will be no surprise to anyone who's seen Fantastic Planet. (Monty Python fans will recognize it as well; Topor was an obvious influence on Terry Gilliam.) There's a great deal to like about this book; if you're unfamiliar with Topor, or only familiar with his film work, this edition of The Tenant is a great starting point. ****

What an intriguing tale of sorts, a man a new tenant, quite normal at first seems to descend into another world and takes what he sees and hears around his new surroundings and develops a paranoia and blows the matter out of proportion in his psyche, or does he? Is it maybe just the evil new neighbours?
My first from this French writer great writing he plays with you're thoughts and leaves you scratching you're head and also laughing after the story is over this will remain for awhile in you're thoughts.

I equate reading this short novel with watching one of those advant-garde European films that center on the psyche of a not-so-normal individual as this person pits himself or herself against (or in contrast to) the world around him. Trelkovsky, the main character in this novel is not right, you can tell right from the beginning. And yet he just gets stranger and stranger as his story plays out. His descent is felt by you, the reader. He gets inside your head too. I thought this book was really well written and very interesting. When your done, give it to friends to read. Then you can talk about it with them.

What an excellent book! I was really surprised by just how much I enjoyed it. Following the descent of the main character into a paranoid madness was fascinating, especially since it was difficult to tell accurately if he was actually imagining it or not.

However, I find the phrase "sexual obsession" as used in the description to be misleading. Perhaps "gender obsession" or "identity obsession" would be more accurate.

Included in this volume were several short stories--also superb--and drawings done by the author. There is also an essay, but I recommend leaving it until afterward as it does give some minor things away.