céline
@migracoeur
Reklam
Walking on the way that A.R. Grillet paved, Duras introduces her more developed version of the Nouveau Roman. The characters are unnamed and the plot doesn’t matter, they’re almost non-existent. The items are the things that are used symbolically to define the characters. Intertextuality can also be observed. The narrative is fragmented as hell. Among all the books i’ve read from this movement so far, the discontunity of the narrative/plot is in its most prominent form in this novel. It jumps from memory to memory, which left me disoriented.
“I had become his child. It was with his own child he made love every evening.” Never felt so sick in my life. Now i’m not gonna start going on about how it romanticizes pedophilia and colonialism of Indochina since it’s literally an autobiography. What can i say?
“Man looks at the world, and the world does not look back at him.”
okay you little literary anarchist dude, we see that you refuse it all and we acknowledge you. But personally i’m not digging this whole new novel stuff, i’m more of a romantism/symbolism kinda gal, if you know what i mean.
my 13 years old ass would’ve written this better… poor writing skills and weak worldbuilding. I don’t know if it gets better in the following books but my standarts weren’t even high to begin with.
