La Boutique Obscure: 124 Dreams
Georges Perec
Language: English
Pages: 272
ISBN: 1612191754
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
The beguiling, never-before-translated dream diary of Georges Perec
In La Boutique Obscure Perec once again revolutionized literary form, creating the world’s first “nocturnal autobiography.” From 1968 until 1972—the period when he wrote his most well-known works—the beloved French stylist recorded his dreams. But as you might expect, his approach was far from orthodox.
Avoiding the hazy psychoanalysis of most dream journals, he challenged himself to translate his visions and subconscious churnings directly into prose. In laying down the nonsensical leaps of the imagination, he finds new ways to express the texture and ambiguity of dreams—those qualities that prove so elusive.
Beyond capturing a universal experience for the first time and being a fine document of literary invention, La Boutique Obscure contains the seeds of some of Perec’s most famous books. It is also an intimate portrait of one of the great innovators of modern literature.
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Books “Fiendishly clever.” —Times Literary Supplement “Perec’s artistry has achieved a perfect balance between allure and imponderability.” —The Los Angeles Times La Boutique Obscure Copyright � 1973, 1998, Éditions Denoël, Paris Translation and Afterword copyright � 2012, Daniel Levin Becker Cet ouvrage publié dans le cadre du programme d’aide à la publication bénéficie du soutien du Ministère des Affaires Etrangères et du Service Culturel de l’Ambassade de France représenté aux
Another time, on the other hand, the Maharajah awarded me a decoration. It was a rectangular silver plaque, roughly the size of a 10-franc bill, very complexly corrugated: you could imagine it divided into, say, twelve squares, alternately hollow and embossed; each hollow and each embossing divided in turn into twelve hollows and embossments, and so on … Ultimately, the Maharajah’s hesitations had no consequence whatsoever. I thought it was six o’clock and that the departure had been
M. lives on. The window comes up very slowly, as though automatically. Apparently there’s nobody behind it. Two of M.’s friends arrive. One of them tells me M. is gone, which makes me very angry. She told me to come by! This isn’t the first time she’s stood me up, but this time I’ve had enough and I decide to leave her a short goodbye note. All I can find to write on is a very large sheet of paper, which forces me to write vertically, since the sheet is pressed up against one of the lobby walls.
1972 No. 114: April 1972 No. 115: April 1972 No. 116: May 1972 No. 117: May 1972 No. 118: June 1972 No. 119: June 1972 No. 120: June 1972 No. 121: July 1972 No. 122: July 1972 No. 123: August 1972 No. 124: August 1972 Afterword since I think that the real is in no way real how am I to believe that dreams are dreams Jacques Roubaud and Saigyō Hōshi Preface Everyone has dreams. Some remember theirs, far fewer recount them, and very few write them down. Why write them down,
shakes my hand enthusiastically and suggests that I call H., one of our mutual friends, to invite him to join us on Wednesday. Alas, I tell her, on Wednesday I won’t be there anymore. I walk through kitchens and dining rooms again. There are more and more people and there’s not enough food for everyone. The crowd is getting restless. New arrivals are announced (Z.? food?). People watch the road with binoculars; it’s a straight road that goes on forever, but no sign of any arrivals. Did I see
