Le Clezio's world is far from cosy. The words 'void' and 'abyss' occur with frequency and violence is never far away. It's ostensibly a tale of a life at intermittent stages between birth and death but encompasses all sentient life at it's most essential level as in the best existential lit. It's pretty hopeless in tone but the description of life in all its variety and abundance does at least afford it a positive. Le Clezio was ambitious around this time and this one especially seems like he was making a kind of ultimate statement on existence. Man and the swarms of ants (a recurring image) ultimately share the same fate though. It's an impressive work and I'll very likely re-read and probably soon. ( )

This was my second Le Clézio book. Terra Amata, the Beloved Earth, is daunting. I would not recommend this as a starting point to reading Le Clézio's works. It deeply troubled me, depressed me, made me close my eyes for a while and try not to think.

The beginning had an interesting scene when the young protagonist, Chancelade, plays with a bunch of potato bugs. It was a riveting scene that ended in tragedy.

The book follows Chancelade throughout his entire life as the headings of the chapters may indicate:

On the earth by chance
I was born
a living man
I grew up
inside the drawing
the days went by
and the nights
I played all those games
loved
happy
I spoke all those languages
gesticulating
saying incomprehensible words
or asking indiscreet questions
in a region that resembled hell
I peopled the earth
to conquer the silence
to tell the whole truth
I lived in the immensity of consciousness
I ran away
then I grew old
I died
and was buried

This is an experimental novel reminding me a little of Italo Calvino. There was a section written in morse code, a section in sign language, C: Open hand profile little finger down. Closed hand thumb crosswise. Closed hand thumb up. Hand profile index pointing up. Closed hand thumb and little finger up. This scene went on for 5 pages. And of course in the section called 'saying incomprehensible words' the dialog was something like this, "Woolikanok mana bori ocklakokok. Zane prestil zani wang don bang."

But even with it's quirky (yet effective) 'tricks', I found the book deeply depressing. The section 'I died' ripped me. I felt it was I breathing that last death rattle. And when I was finally buried, only then did I sigh with a bit of relief... at finishing this book.

Le Corbusier said that God was in the details. We are in the details. We are that pebble on the beach, the heart that was pierced on the battle field in 1812, the potato bug walking aimlessly around the sidewalk, we are the words of this book, the sun, the stars, the mole under the girls left breast, and that layer of rock between the granite and flint. This book is full of details.

I think having a beer with Le Clézio back in 1963 may have been a downer. But then, I am beer also, and I am the belch of relief after having one too many.

I gave it 4 stars for successfully messing with me. ( )