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Our Assessment:
B : struggles some with its material, but more than enough of it works See our review for fuller assessment.
Review Consensus: - Return to top of the page - The complete review's Review:
Portrait of a Man Known as Il Condottiere wasn't Georges Perec's first novel -- he completed the still-untranslated (but now published in the original French ) L'attentat de Sarajevo in 1957 -- but it is an early, pre-Oulipian work that was long thought lost and only first published in 2012.
(David Bellos' Georges Perec's Lost Novel -- a good chunk of his Introduction to his translation -- gives a good overview of the fascinating story of its writing and recovery.)
"Why did you kill Madera ?"The novel is presented in two parts. It opens in Gaspard's voice, as he drags the body of Madera, the man whose throat he has just slit, down to the door of a cellar-laboratory -- interrupted by the appearance of another man, Otto, before he can even begin to clean up the messy scene. Gaspard shuts himself up in the laboratory -- his studio for many months --, faced with the great failure that was clearly pivotal in precipitating events: his painting, Portrait of a Man, his Condottiere. The frenzied first pages shift from first to third to second person -- the I, he, you all a Gaspard who sees himself as backed into a final corner, doomed. The entire first part continues much like this -- though also taking a broader view, filling in background, describing Gaspard's life and career and how he came to this point. The second part is somewhat more straightforward, most of it in dialogue -- but covering much of the same ground, the back and forth between Gaspard and his friend yet another attempt, in conversation, to make sense of Gaspard's life and fatal deed. It begins: "'I'm lost, Streten. I've lost the thread" -- as if Gaspard (or Perec ...) acknowledge the approach in the first part wasn't getting to the bottom of things, and another way is required ..... Gaspard received fine professional training from a young age -- including: "at the École du Louvre, holding a diploma in Painting Conservation from New York University and the Metropolitan Museum, New York" -- but he apprenticed as a forger, and settled into that comfortable and remunerative covert life. Now in his early thirties, he has never known anything else: he never was able to allow his own identity (artistic or otherwise) to form: he always inhabited others' lives, (re)created other's work; he could never be Gaspard Winckler but rather was: "Gaspard Vivarini, Gaspard Anonymous French School, Gaspard Corot, Gaspard van Gogh, Gaspard Raphael Sanzio, Gaspard de Toulouse-Lautrec". He can look back now (only) to: Twelve years. Twelve times three hundred and sixty-five days. Twelve years in the course of which he had been shut in basements, attics, strongrooms, empty workshops, abandoned houses, barns, caves, disused mineshafts and set up, thought up, worked out and carried off alone and on his own one hundred and twenty or thirty fake paintings. A whole gallery. From Giotto to Modigliani. From Fra Angelico to Braque. A gallery without any soul or guts ...Now, in retrospect, he sees: "Forging isn't a trade. It's more like a rut. You get stuck in it. You get drowned". And he recognizes that being a forger: It means living with the dead, it means being dead, it means knowing the dead, it means being anyone at all. Vermeer or Chardin.As to any self -- it: "was left out, it didn't count. I was just a hand, a performing tool". It was this Madera that commissioned a painting in a whole different league from everything Gaspard had previously done -- "something that could fetch a hundred and fifty million" -- and Gaspard embraced the challenge, selecting Antonello da Messina as the master he would fake. His inspiration, then, was: to start from the Condottiere in order to paint another Condottiere, a different one, but of the same quality.His ambition was to carry off: "what no forger before him had dared attempt: to create an authentic masterpiece". Needless to say, it does not work out as Gaspard planned. For all his technical virtuosity, the resulting painting only reveals to him -- as he admits in painful, raw detail -- his own failures. If he has been able to ignore questions of (his own) identity and purpose until then, the painting -- and the life he's led as a forger until then -- force him to confront them head on. And, as readers know from his murderous action, he doesn't take any of this well. But as we see from his tortured flailing after he has done that deed, murder -- a desperate attempt at escape, too -- does not provide true release either. Portrait of a Man Known as Il Condottiere poses intriguing questions, and Perec uses the material quite well in addressing them -- but it is an uneven work, in almost all respects. Perec struggles to find a style -- even a voice -- in which to present it. That works fine, in part -- after all, Gaspard himself is unoriginal ("I haven't got any imagination", he admits) and inhabits others in creating his work, and so it makes sense that he barely has a voice or perspective of his own -- but it does make for a sometimes difficult read. There are, however, some very fine sections, with some of Gaspard/Perec's concerns very nicely put. If somewhat uneven, the writing is quite interesting, not only as an early example of Perec but also simply of a young novelist trying things out. Bellos does note in his Introduction that: "The text also contains some extremely long sentences", and notes instances where: "I felt I had to take the sentence apart and put it back together again in a different shape" -- which seems to have worked quite well. As striking, however, are the many sections with shorter, more abrupt sentences -- including some almost Céline-like ellipses-filled sequences (like the example quoted above). Clearly, there is also considerable word-play -- most evident when it's practically spelled out, but also otherwise quite well presented in(to) English: The rest would be lost in a guffaw. Forger. Faussaire. Fausse ère: wrong period. Bad times. Storm on the way. A forger's forger. Necrophagist ...If not entirely a success, Portrait of a Man Known as Il Condottiere is nevertheless more than just a Perec-curiosity, and of at least some interest and appeal on its own, a neat little work of fakery, identity, and purpose. - M.A.Orthofer, 9 December 2018 - Return to top of the page - Portrait of a Man Known as Il Condottiere:
- Return to top of the page - The great French writer Georges Perec (1936-1982) studied sociology at the Sorbonne and worked as a research librarian. His first published novel, Les Choses, won the 1965 Prix Renaudot. A member of the Oulipo since 1967 he wrote a wide variety of pieces, ranging from his impressive fictions to a weekly crossword for Le Point. - Return to top of the page -
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