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> Un roman initiatique foutraque, acidulé et drolatique du grand Tom Robbins. Même les princesses ont du vague à l'âme. Voilà comment on pourrait résumer ce roman de Tom Robbins, paru une première fois en 1981 sous le titre de Mickey le Rouge. L'édition d'aujourd'hui ne rétablit pas seulement le beau titre original, Nature morte avec pivert, elle propose une nouvelle traduction rendant grâce à la prose foutraque du grand Robbins. Soit, donc, une ancienne pom-pom girl reconvertie en princesse s'ennuyant dans une tour du côté de Seattle. Comme toutes les héroïnes de Robbins, elle va rencontrer un maître d'aventure - en l'occurrence, un beau hors-la-loi qui manie la dynamite comme des bâtonnets de mikado. Se méfier des lois des bureaucrates Ensuite, à coups de métaphores acidulées comme des pochettes de 33-tours psychédéliques, Robbins parsème le roman de ses ingrédients habituels: une grenouille, des pyramides, une société primitive et la rituelle pique contre le Finnegan's Wake, de Joyce. La morale de l'histoire? Il vaut mieux faire confiance aux cycles de la lune qu'aux lois des bureaucrates. Vous en apprendrez davantage avec ce roman initiatique qu'avec une palette de ces manuels du bonheur qui envahissent nos librairies. Et, surtout, vous rirez plus. Infiniment plus. —(Jérôme Dupuis, L'Express)
Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais.Modifiez pour passer à votre langue.
You don't need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Don't even listen, simply wait. Don't even wait. Be quite still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you. To be unmasked, it has no choice. It will roll in ecstasy at your feet. —Franz Kafka
Here should be a picture of my favorite apple. It is also a nude & bottle. It is also a landscape. There are no such things as still lifes. —Erica Jong
Dédicace
Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais.Modifiez pour passer à votre langue.
To the memory of Keith Wyman and Betty Bowen: if there is a place where people go after death, its proprietors have got their hands full with those two.
To everybody whose letters I haven’t answered. and to G. R., special delivery.
Premiers mots
Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais.Modifiez pour passer à votre langue.
In the last quarter of the twentieth century, at a time when Western civilization was declining too rapidly for comfort and yet too slowly to be very exciting, much of the world sat on the edge of an increasingly expensive theater seat, waiting—with various combinations of dread, hope, and ennui—for something momentous to occur.
PROLOGUE If this typewriter can't do it, then fuck it, it can’t be done. This is the all-new Remington SL3, the machine that answers the question, “Which is harder, trying to read The Brothers Karamazov while listening to Stevie Wonder records or hunting for Easter eggs on a typewriter keyboard?” This is the cherry on top of the cowgirl. The burger served by the genius waitress. The Empress card.
Citations
Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais.Modifiez pour passer à votre langue.
"One must agree that the last quarter of the twentieth century was a severe period for lovers. It was a time when women openly resented men, a time when men felt betrayed by women, a time when romantic relationships took on the character of ice in spring stranding many little children on jagged and inhospitable floes."
"Regardless of what else the press might have contributed to our culture, regardless of whether it is our first defense against totalitarianism or a wimpy force that undermines authentic experiences by categorizing them according to faddish popular interest, the press has give us big fat Sunday papers to ease our weekly mental menstrual bloat."
"If beneath the great issues and all-encompassing questions (as underplayed as they were in the last quarter of the twentieth century) a more intimate struggle rages, a struggle whose real goal was romantic fulfillment, maybe it was courageous and honorable to attempt to transcend that struggle, to insist on something more than that. Maybe."
"What is more likely is that technology will bypass artists, that a day is coming when our novels will be written by computers, the same devices that will paint our murals and compose our tunes."
"Who does have a love life anymore? These days people have sex lives, not love lives... I don't have a love life because I've never met a man who knew how to have a love life. Maybe I don't know how, either."
"Tunnel vision is a disease in which perception is restricted by ignorance and vested interest. Tunnel vision is caused by an optic fungus that multiplies when the brain is less energetic than the ego. It is complicated by exposure to politics. When a good idea is run through the filters, it not only comes out reduced in scale and value but in its new dogmatic configuration produces effects opposite of those for which it was originally intended. That is how the loving ideas of Jesus Christ became the sinister clichés of Christianity."
"This is not an easy time for lovers, either... True, most lovers don't work at it hard enough, or with enough imagination or generosity, but even those who try don't seem to have any ultimate success these days. Who knows how to make love stay?"
"Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won't adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is sign on as its accomplice. Instead of vowing to honor and obey, maybe we show swear to aid and abet. That would mean the security is out of the question. The words "make" and "stay" become inappropriate. My love for you has no strings attached. I love you for free."
"Maybe both lust and love demand something more than most of us have the stomach for. These days, certainly, folks seem more concerned with furthering careers than with furthering romance."
"...until we admit that while a partner can add sweet dimensions to our lives, we, each of us, are responsible for our own fulfillment. Nobody else can provide it for us, and to believe otherwise is to delude ourselves dangerously and program for eventual failure every relationship we enter."
"One day we wake up and the magic is gone. We hustle to get it back, but by then it's usually too late, we've used it up. What we have to do is work like hell at making additional magic right from the start. It's hard work, especially when it seems superfluous or redundant, but if we can remember to do it, we greatly improve our chances of making love stay."
"Three of the four elements are shared by all creatures, but fire was a gift to humans alone. Smoking cigarettes is as intimate as we can become with fire without immediate excruciation. Every smoker is an embodiment of Prometheus, stealing fire from the gods and bringing it on back home. We smoke to capture the power of the sun, to pacify Hell, to identify with the primordial spark, to feed on the marrow of the volcano. It's not the tobacco we're after but the fire. When we smoke, we are performing a version of the fire dance, a ritual as ancient as lightning."
"It occurred to her that in every relationship in which she had participated, in every union older than a year that she'd observed, imbalance existed. Of a couple, one person invariably loved stronger than the other. It seemed a law of nature, a cruel law that led to tension and destruction. She was dismayed that a law so unfair, so miserable prevailed, but since it did, since imbalance seemed inevitable, it must be easier, healthier to be the lover who loved least."
"Love is private and primitive and a bit on the funky and frightening side... Underneath the hearts and flowers, love is loony like that. Attempts to housebreak it, to dress the crabs up like doves and make them sing soprano always results in thin blood."
Derniers mots
Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais.Modifiez pour passer à votre langue.
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Même les princesses ont du vague à l'âme. Voilà comment on pourrait résumer ce roman de Tom Robbins, paru une première fois en 1981 sous le titre de Mickey le Rouge. L'édition d'aujourd'hui ne rétablit pas seulement le beau titre original, Nature morte avec pivert, elle propose une nouvelle traduction rendant grâce à la prose foutraque du grand Robbins.
Soit, donc, une ancienne pom-pom girl reconvertie en princesse s'ennuyant dans une tour du côté de Seattle. Comme toutes les héroïnes de Robbins, elle va rencontrer un maître d'aventure - en l'occurrence, un beau hors-la-loi qui manie la dynamite comme des bâtonnets de mikado.
Se méfier des lois des bureaucrates
Ensuite, à coups de métaphores acidulées comme des pochettes de 33-tours psychédéliques, Robbins parsème le roman de ses ingrédients habituels: une grenouille, des pyramides, une société primitive et la rituelle pique contre le Finnegan's Wake, de Joyce.
La morale de l'histoire? Il vaut mieux faire confiance aux cycles de la lune qu'aux lois des bureaucrates. Vous en apprendrez davantage avec ce roman initiatique qu'avec une palette de ces manuels du bonheur qui envahissent nos librairies. Et, surtout, vous rirez plus. Infiniment plus.
—(Jérôme Dupuis, L'Express)