Eight not-so-new essays, as ingenious and exasperating as ever, by the late M. Barthes. These pieces, which date from 1964 to 1971, were originally published along with Le degré zéro de l'écriture in 1972. They add nothing of substance to the Barthesian canon (most are brief reflections on classic, or at least familiar, French authors, from La Rochefoucauld to Proust), but they provide a sampling of all that is most brilliant—and most dubious—in the work of the great Structuralist mandarin. For all his scientific pretensions (and his pedantic love of abstruse terms), Barthes was a poet. His style, to which translator Richard Howard does almost perfect justice, positively caresses the literary object with a sort of refined intellectual voluptuousness. (Discussing Pierre Loti's novel Aziyadé, Barthes savors "the sensuous, plump palatization of the y" in the title.) This uncanny sensitivity, along with his formidable analytical skills, makes Bartles an illuminating guide to things like Chateaubriand's Life of Rancé or the use of names in Proust. Still, what Barthes actually does with literature often seems irrelevant or downright destructive—less concerned with the text than with weaving interpretations around it. Aziyadé, he says, is an insipid novel—but the disjunction separating Julien Viaud (the author, a naval officer and world traveler), Pierre Loti (his pseudonym and literary self), and a second Loti (protagonist of the story) creates all kinds of opportunities for Structuralist gymnastics. This indifference to content in the traditional sense reminds one of nihilism, and in fact at one point Barthes observes that in literature, as in life, "there is ultimately nothing to understand." But still worse is Barthes' penchant for oracular utterances, often obscure (what is "a nascent schizophrenia, prudently formed in a homeopathic quantity"?) and always dogmatic ("antithesis is. . . a mechanism quite devoid of meaning"). This can lead, at best, to a string of thought-provoking dicta, but in any case it fails to leave the reader with a coherent view of the work in question.
Pub Date: July 1, 1980
ISBN: 0810126419
Page Count: 136
Publisher: Hill and Wang/Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Review Posted Online: Oct. 10, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1980
This is not the Nutcracker sweet, as passed on by Tchaikovsky and Marius Petipa. No, this is the original Hoffmann tale of 1816, in which the froth of Christmas revelry occasionally parts to let the dark underside of childhood fantasies and fears peek through. The boundaries between dream and reality fade, just as Godfather Drosselmeier, the Nutcracker's creator, is seen as alternately sinister and jolly. And Italian artist Roberto Innocenti gives an errily realistic air to Marie's dreams, in richly detailed illustrations touched by a mysterious light. A beautiful version of this classic tale, which will captivate adults and children alike. (Nutcracker; $35.00; Oct. 28, 1996; 136 pp.; 0-15-100227-4)
Pub Date: Oct. 28, 1996
ISBN: 0-15-100227-4
Page Count: 136
Publisher: Harcourt
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 1996
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
Stricter than, say, Bergen Evans or W3 ("disinterested" means impartial — period), Strunk is in the last analysis...
Privately published by Strunk of Cornell in 1918 and revised by his student E. B. White in 1959, that "little book" is back again with more White updatings.
Stricter than, say, Bergen Evans or W3 ("disinterested" means impartial — period), Strunk is in the last analysis (whoops — "A bankrupt expression") a unique guide (which means "without like or equal").Pub Date: May 15, 1972
ISBN: 0205632645
Page Count: 105
Publisher: Macmillan
Review Posted Online: Oct. 28, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 1972
© Copyright 2025 Kirkus Media LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Follow
Popular in this Genre
We can’t wait for you to join Kirkus!
It’s free and takes less than 10 seconds!
Already have an account? Log in.
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
Welcome Back!
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
