The Opposing Shore, by Julien Gracq
Title: The Opposing Shore
Author: Julien Gracq
Published: 1951
Translator: Richard Howard
Summary of Book
Imaginary, yet Mediterranean, city-state Orsenna is on the brink of decay when a young nobleman, in the position of military observer at a lonely faraway outpost, inadvertently embarks upon a course of events that may awaken Orsenna from its somnolence and 300-year cold war with cross-sea rival Farghestan.
Summary of My Thoughts
Despite its occasional somnolence, The Opposing Shore is an excellent exploration of boundaries and of fading political power, firmly in place as a response to the catastrophic wars of the 20th century. Anything but plot-heavy, this introspective novel can get lost in itself but is rewarding for those willing to put in a bit of effort; it is, however, probably not for everybody and could use a bit more spice.
Longer Thoughts and Explanation of Recurring SAT Word Up There
The thing about reading books in translation is that, when something seems just a bit funky or otherwise off, it's difficult to tell who, precisely, is at fault. In the case of The Opposing Shore, it seems that much of the original French story and tone remained intact (or, failing that, translator Richard Howard did an excellent job of conveying his own sense of weight upon the book), but for the life of me I half wanted to pitch the book across the room every time the SAT-caliber somnolent/somnolence showed up, which appeared to be every two or three pages. Yes, it's adequate and in fact more than accurately sums up the book as a whole, but as a five-dollar word in such saturated usage it seems a bit, well, exorbitant.
That rant aside, let's talk turkey. Or Turkey. Or the fictional, but distinctly quasi-Mediterranean, Orsenna and Farghestan, the two opposing shores one may expect from the title. Aldo, the book's protagonist and narrator, is a young man of noble lineage sent to observe an admiralty post in Syrtes, an outlying Orsennian territory that lies across the sea from long-dormant enemy Farghestan. The Opposing Shore presents a number of explorations of transgression, in several different aspects, but shows a tendency to be wearingly introspective instead of expounding usefully upon events at hand. Characters are so often introduced and, well, characterized in long, rambling passages that readers can be forgiven for finding their dialogue and actions (scant as they are) somewhat contrary to expectations. This adds to the dreamy aura of the novel but does not do much to make it much more understandable; nor, I think, is the confusion sufficiently atmospheric to justify the ratio of exposition to event.
What Gracq (+/- Howard) does (do) well is set a consistent, dreamlike tone and maintain it throughout the novel. Metaphors of sleep and wakefulness abound and likely hold far deeper meaning for readers willing to dig into the book a bit more thoroughly than I did. Most interesting, I think, is the way that the tone of the book reflects a defeated France coming to grips with its quick capitulation (and, of course, Vichy collaboration) during the recent Second World War. Though the book is obviously set somewhere in the 18th-19th centuries, the sensibility is particularly modern, an interesting reflection reaching back to imperial Europe and the long sleep that eventually led to the startled awakening of the Great War. Overall, Gracq presents an interesting look at transgression and shows an ability to create interesting narrative tension; it's just a shame that the novel fails to hold as much interest as it could. The action gets lost below the waves of the vast, unknowable, suddenly turbulent Sea of Syrtes, though Gracq's implications for Farghestan pose an intriguing counterpoint to Orsenna, brilliantly reflecting the way a decaying empire sees itself and its enemies. The Opposing Shore is consistent in tone, theme, and metaphorical construct, but may be just a bit too sleepy to really succeed as a gripping story.
My Letter Grade: B
Author: Julien Gracq
Published: 1951
Translator: Richard Howard
Summary of Book
Imaginary, yet Mediterranean, city-state Orsenna is on the brink of decay when a young nobleman, in the position of military observer at a lonely faraway outpost, inadvertently embarks upon a course of events that may awaken Orsenna from its somnolence and 300-year cold war with cross-sea rival Farghestan.
Summary of My Thoughts
Despite its occasional somnolence, The Opposing Shore is an excellent exploration of boundaries and of fading political power, firmly in place as a response to the catastrophic wars of the 20th century. Anything but plot-heavy, this introspective novel can get lost in itself but is rewarding for those willing to put in a bit of effort; it is, however, probably not for everybody and could use a bit more spice.
Longer Thoughts and Explanation of Recurring SAT Word Up There
The thing about reading books in translation is that, when something seems just a bit funky or otherwise off, it's difficult to tell who, precisely, is at fault. In the case of The Opposing Shore, it seems that much of the original French story and tone remained intact (or, failing that, translator Richard Howard did an excellent job of conveying his own sense of weight upon the book), but for the life of me I half wanted to pitch the book across the room every time the SAT-caliber somnolent/somnolence showed up, which appeared to be every two or three pages. Yes, it's adequate and in fact more than accurately sums up the book as a whole, but as a five-dollar word in such saturated usage it seems a bit, well, exorbitant.
That rant aside, let's talk turkey. Or Turkey. Or the fictional, but distinctly quasi-Mediterranean, Orsenna and Farghestan, the two opposing shores one may expect from the title. Aldo, the book's protagonist and narrator, is a young man of noble lineage sent to observe an admiralty post in Syrtes, an outlying Orsennian territory that lies across the sea from long-dormant enemy Farghestan. The Opposing Shore presents a number of explorations of transgression, in several different aspects, but shows a tendency to be wearingly introspective instead of expounding usefully upon events at hand. Characters are so often introduced and, well, characterized in long, rambling passages that readers can be forgiven for finding their dialogue and actions (scant as they are) somewhat contrary to expectations. This adds to the dreamy aura of the novel but does not do much to make it much more understandable; nor, I think, is the confusion sufficiently atmospheric to justify the ratio of exposition to event.
What Gracq (+/- Howard) does (do) well is set a consistent, dreamlike tone and maintain it throughout the novel. Metaphors of sleep and wakefulness abound and likely hold far deeper meaning for readers willing to dig into the book a bit more thoroughly than I did. Most interesting, I think, is the way that the tone of the book reflects a defeated France coming to grips with its quick capitulation (and, of course, Vichy collaboration) during the recent Second World War. Though the book is obviously set somewhere in the 18th-19th centuries, the sensibility is particularly modern, an interesting reflection reaching back to imperial Europe and the long sleep that eventually led to the startled awakening of the Great War. Overall, Gracq presents an interesting look at transgression and shows an ability to create interesting narrative tension; it's just a shame that the novel fails to hold as much interest as it could. The action gets lost below the waves of the vast, unknowable, suddenly turbulent Sea of Syrtes, though Gracq's implications for Farghestan pose an intriguing counterpoint to Orsenna, brilliantly reflecting the way a decaying empire sees itself and its enemies. The Opposing Shore is consistent in tone, theme, and metaphorical construct, but may be just a bit too sleepy to really succeed as a gripping story.
My Letter Grade: B