I'm Gone

Rating:
Summary: Not Everything Arrived Prior To Leaving
Review: "I'm Gone", by Mr. Jean Echenoz is the first of his works that I have read. I always approach a translated book with some trepidation, as the work of the translator is critical. Not every word translates from one language to another, and this is even more prevalent when it comes to slang or language that has taken on day-to-day uses outside of a traditional dictionary. So when it comes time to comment you never really know how close to the original you have read. The hope is the Author has picked an excellent person for the translation, but I do not know of a place where translators are ranked.

In any event, "I'm Gone", is a book that is at times very clever and funny, but only occasionally. The plot was not unique and the Author tips his hand well before the book's end, giving the reader a decent chance of taking a step that removes any of the surprise when the plot clearly is trying for just that later in the book. I found much of the book to be too vague on the players, and on events that were anything but minor. Many of the characters had about as much that was interesting about them as the amount of luggage they moved with.

The entire legal aspect may make sense if there is something unique about The European Union beyond what the Author shares. However that portion of the book just seemed to make no sense, it was just another portion that happened in a bit of a haze as nothing prepares the reader. Finally, this is one of those works that ends almost in mid-sentence. I have always felt this was a very difficult way of ending a work, and that it seems more of an attempt at being stylish that substantive.

The Author did write some great material, however overall the book was a disappointment.

Rating:
Summary: "He would have no women left at all."
Review: Ferrer, a middle-aged Parisian art dealer, operates a failing gallery. His marriage to Suzanne is also failing. Ferrer abandons his established routine with Suzanne by one day announcing "I'm leaving," and he does leave--moving quickly, quietly and cleanly in with another woman. Ferrer's life is full of women he uses as convenient stepping stones. They are replaceable and interchangeable, but it's essential, nonetheless, to keep one on hand in case of emergencies.

Ferrer's financial situation at the gallery isn't as easy to change as his marriage. But then Ferrer's limp assistant, Delahaye "a man made entirely of curves" reveals a story of a possible treasure trove of ethic artifacts. According to Delahaye, in the 50s, a ship sailing in the Arctic Ocean became ice bound, and the crew was forced to abandon both the ship and its cargo of artifacts. Ferrer decides to retrieve the fortune and embarks on a trip to the Arctic Circle.

"I'm Gone" starts out very promisingly. In one passage, author Jean Echenoz describes 2 characters as plants--Delahaye, for example, is one of "those anonymous, grayish plants that grow in cities, between exposed pavements", but his female companion Victoire is "more wild than ornamental." The novel continues to entertain through Ferrer's voyage. He's attracted to the ship's nurse, Brigette, and he insists on renting a series of videos under her nose with titles--such as--"The Nurse is Ready" and "Stuff Us Good". He hopes that these titles will both tweak her curiosity and announce his interest. After the Arctic trip, the novel fizzled. There's at once an emotional distancing from the characters, and also frequent attempts to engage the reader in a sort of conspiratorial relationship--noting that this or that character may appear more significant later. In one chapter, for example, the author notes "we cannot develop this point for the moment, since a more pressing bit of news demands our attention." After a while, these authorial asides became a bit invasive and boring. Overall, "I'm Gone" was entertaining for the first half, but the second half failed to deliver the early promise--displacedhuman

Rating:
Summary: I am a biblioholic and this hit the spot. Period.
Review: I love to read (trite, right?). I got wind of this book throught the Times Literary Supplement in which they said that M. Polizzotti got an award for translating a Prix Gouncourt awarded novel called "I'm Gone" by Jean Echenoz. So I ordered it....and read it within one sitting and it reinforced my behavior of seeking out "that one book"...the book that makes you read past your bedtime...because of the plot. But also because of the writing and the way the novelist arranged the piece of fiction. Luckily you do not have to take my word on this...just read the reviews from France and look at this author's stellar history (every book he writes seems to get an award). It frustrates me that I in the USA am often not privy to brilliant fiction writers throughout the world merely because their works are not tranlated into English. I thank Mr. Polizzotti for translating this work. What a wonderful read.....one reviewer ahead of me (on amazon.com) said he knew what what was coming before it was read. I pride myself in being somewhat intelligent (Univ of Chicago Professor) and did not see the major "punchline" coming. So maybe the other reviewer knows more than me but I wanted to say from my perspective, this was one of the best works of modern-day fiction I have read ever.

Rating:
Summary: Like a fancy ride around the block.
Review: Jean Echenoz's "I'm Gone" is about a French art dealer who leaves his wife and engages in some international shennanigans, resulting in confusion and excitement, almost like a James Bond story for the average guy. The writing is polished, and the vocabulary good (actually, not so much "good" as overdone, like the author had just bought a thesaurus and was giving it a test-drive). The protagonist and plot both seemed interesting as the book went along, but ultimately both were pointless and superficial.

It was like riding in a fancy limousine, smiling happily and having a sip of champagne, but then being asked brusquely to step out, and finding you did nothing but go quickly around the block. The book left this reviewer with no afterthoughts whatsoever. It's actually quite forgettable. Unfortunately, I don't even remember having enjoyed it while reading it, I remember being relatively confused by the plot's believability and pointlessness, otherwise I might have recommended it as a good "beach time" read.

Rating:
Summary: Like a fancy ride around the block.
Review: Jean Echenoz's "I'm Gone" is about a French art dealer who leaves his wife and engages in some international shennanigans, resulting in confusion and excitement, almost like a James Bond story for the average guy. The writing is polished, and the vocabulary good (actually, not so much "good" as overdone, like the author had just bought a thesaurus and was giving it a test-drive). The protagonist and plot both seemed interesting as the book went along, but ultimately both were pointless and superficial.

It was like riding in a fancy limousine, smiling happily and having a sip of champagne, but then being asked brusquely to step out, and finding you did nothing but go quickly around the block. The book left this reviewer with no afterthoughts whatsoever. It's actually quite forgettable. Unfortunately, I don't even remember having enjoyed it while reading it, I remember being relatively confused by the plot's believability and pointlessness, otherwise I might have recommended it as a good "beach time" read.

Rating:
Summary: A smart, breezy novel
Review: The first short chapter of Echenoz's novel struck me as self-conscious and awkward, perhaps a bad translation, and then . . . magic. I could not put this book down. No wonder this book was a bestseller in France. Echenoz has crafted a finely tuned, fast paced novel of intrigue and personal crisis, a combination that will take you to the end of its 193 pages in no time at all.

Ferrer leaves his wife in the first sentence and embarks on a bizarre journey that takes him into the arms of women, across the tundra of the Arctic Circle, and through the streets of Paris. I won't divulge more of the plot because half the fun of this book is discovering why Ferrer is where he is, and what will happen next. The chapters zigzag through time, taking the reader backward and forward, sometimes sideways to another setting at the same point in time.

And the translation I thought might be substandard? Wrong. This novel vibrates with witty observations that could not possibly be effective with a less than first-rate translator. The descriptions and insights, the way one builds to the next, are astounding. Some are simply hilarious: a pack of unruly sled dogs ignores shouts and whippings to devour a mastodon half frozen in the tundra; Ferrer's assistant Delahaye calls "to mind those anonymous, grayish plants that grow in cities, between the exposed pavements of an abandoned warehouse yard, in the heart of a crack corrupting a ruined facade; a Paris that has "still air rich in toxic gases."

I highly recommend this book both for serious readers and those who want to sample something a little different from the mass market paperbacks lining the walls of airport bookstores.

Rating:
Summary: A smart, breezy novel
Review: The first short chapter of Echenoz's novel struck me as self-conscious and awkward, perhaps a bad translation, and then . . . magic. I could not put this book down. No wonder this book was a bestseller in France. Echenoz has crafted a finely tuned, fast paced novel of intrigue and personal crisis, a combination that will take you to the end of its 193 pages in no time at all.

Ferrer leaves his wife in the first sentence and embarks on a bizarre journey that takes him into the arms of women, across the tundra of the Arctic Circle, and through the streets of Paris. I won't divulge more of the plot because half the fun of this book is discovering why Ferrer is where he is, and what will happen next. The chapters zigzag through time, taking the reader backward and forward, sometimes sideways to another setting at the same point in time.

And the translation I thought might be substandard? Wrong. This novel vibrates with witty observations that could not possibly be effective with a less than first-rate translator. The descriptions and insights, the way one builds to the next, are astounding. Some are simply hilarious: a pack of unruly sled dogs ignores shouts and whippings to devour a mastodon half frozen in the tundra; Ferrer's assistant Delahaye calls "to mind those anonymous, grayish plants that grow in cities, between the exposed pavements of an abandoned warehouse yard, in the heart of a crack corrupting a ruined facade; a Paris that has "still air rich in toxic gases."

I highly recommend this book both for serious readers and those who want to sample something a little different from the mass market paperbacks lining the walls of airport bookstores.

Rating:
Summary: A mixed bag, sure to provoke love-it-or-hate-it controversy.
Review: This short novel is a potpourri of genres--it's a mystery, a social commentary on life in Paris (with the requisite French digs at other countries, including the U.S.), a travel/adventure story, a meditation about love and lust, and a study of midlife crisis. Its main character, Felix Ferrer, a marginally successful gallery owner whose main preoccupation is his own ego, is interested in locating and then selling paleoarctic artifacts from a ship lost near the Arctic Circle long ago, when it became icebound. When the artifacts, his former partner, his wife, a succession of girlfriends, and his financial security all disappear within a short period of time, Felix rouses himself and sets out to regain the artifacts, and, perhaps, some control over his life.

Echenoz is an immensely skillful writer. He creates a fast-paced narrative in which Ferrer ranges from his Parisian art gallery, to the Arctic, where he lives with a seal-hunting family (nice contrasts here), and back to Paris and Spain, and Echenoz makes these transitions seamlessly. His imagery is often striking, and there's a good deal of sardonic humor and light satire about Parisian life. His ability to make the reader see the world through the eyes of Ferrer, and his observations about people, are sometimes startling and original.

Unfortunately, the "hero," Ferrer, is so blasé and so obnoxiously self-satisfied that it's difficult to care much about his world or what happens to him, and the whole novel feels smug. The unnamed narrator's snide and self-important asides degenerate rapidly from cute to annoying ("Personally, I've had it up to here with [a certain character]. His daily life is too boring."). The characters' casual cruelty toward everyone in a subordinate position, their universal lack of "engagement," and their treatment of women as objects further distance the reader and reflect the feeling that becoming involved or caring intensely about anything at all is somehow unsophisticated or bourgeois. Although the author is hugely talented and his book did win the Prix Goncourt, it lacks the vitality and sense of commitment I've come to associate with this prize. And if it's satire, it somehow rings too true.