“...Putting the comb aside, Colin armed himself with nail clippers and cut the edges of his matte eyelids at an angle to give his look a mysterious look. He often had to do this - his eyelids grew back quickly.” This is how the surreal novel “Foam of Days” (in the original “L’Écume des jours”) unexpectedly begins, which is read in one breath and will not leave anyone indifferent.
For me, the novel “Foam of Days” is a unique work and has no analogues in world literature. When I first read it, many years ago, it made a deep impression on me that has not faded to this day. This is a book that can be read in one sitting.
This work combines many genres. This is a drama with fantastic, even rather surreal elements and black humor. Of course, absurd prose and especially poetry will not surprise anyone now, however, I will continue to insist that this work is unique of its kind. Of course, Vian was greatly influenced by his personal acquaintance with the classic of absurdist drama Eugene Ionesco and the thinkers of that time Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir. The fate of Boris Vian himself was unusual.
The French writer lived short life(1920-1959), but managed to try himself as jazz musician and performer of his own songs, he wrote novels, plays, poems, film scripts, ballet librettos, translated from English, sculpted sculptures and painted paintings. And the writer died of a broken heart in a cinema while watching the premiere - an adaptation of the black action film “I Will Come to Spit on Your Graves,” which he wrote under the pseudonym Vernon Sullivan. Researchers became interested in Vian's work after his death, in the 1960s.
In the grip of the absurd
Traditionally, in the novel “Foam of Days” there are three storylines: main, love-lyrical (Kolen and Chloe); “existential-Partrean” (Chic and Aliza) and absurdist - everything else.
Moreover, the absurdist layer constantly, easily and naturally seeps into the first two.
The heroes of the novel are cut off from life, and therefore they love lines so unrealistic and cloying. They are young, beautiful, rich, cheerful and carefree. They don’t walk through life, but flutter, and in the literal sense: “Kolen’s heart swelled to incredible sizes, then soared up, lifted him off the ground, and he flew in...”.
The characters do not know any worries except parties, morning toilet (the bright outfits of a carefree dandy, which Colin lovingly chooses in front of the mirror) and a hearty dinner. Both parallel romance novel(Kolen-Chloe and Chic-Aliza) - the main character and his friend - are written like a carbon copy: a very beautiful girl, love at first sight, cloudless relationships and flying on a cloud... Since the beginning of the novel is a children's fairy tale, every wish of the characters is fulfilled according to snap of fingers. A striking example- stage honeymoon. When, during their honeymoon in a big white limousine, Colen and Chloe felt “somehow uneasy from the landscape rushing past” and Chloe said: “I hate this dim light, this darkness,” then Colen “pressed on green, blue, yellow and red buttons and multi-colored filters replaced car windows. Now Colin and Chloe seemed to be inside a rainbow, and colored shadows danced across the white fur of the seat...” This is an example of escapism - an escape from harsh reality into a fictional universe.
I wanted exquisite dishes - the witty chef Nicolas was already conjuring in the kitchen, I wanted refined alcohol - get a pianoctail, I thought about love - a charming bride immediately appeared on the horizon. Until reality in the form of incurable illness and death invades life.
A man loves a woman, she gets sick and dies
Shortly before his death, Vian said about the novel “Foam of Days”: “I wanted to write a novel whose plot consists of one phrase: a man loves a woman, she gets sick and dies.” The motive of the death of a beloved and the hero’s suffering for her is one of the most popular motives in world literature. Interestingly, this is a favorite plot device of Vian’s contemporary, Erich Maria Remarque. Thus, we can trace plot parallels in two of my favorite books - “The Foam of Days” by Vian and “Three Comrades” (1936) by Remarque. In both cases, the carefree lives of friends change forever with fatal disease beloved. Both books have tragic and quite predictable endings. Even the illnesses of the heroines are similar - tuberculosis and a water lily nymph growing in the lung (essentially the same tuberculosis in its absurdist version). I think this coincidence is due to the fact that both authors wrote in the post-war period. Remarque is considered one of the authors of the “lost generation,” whose novels are dedicated to the lives of soldiers who cannot adapt to post-war life because their psyches are broken by the war. And Vian’s novel was written during the Second World War and was completed immediately after it. Perhaps Colin and Chic are also representatives of a lost generation, only they were lost not in post-war Europe, but in their own imaginary world?
At the beginning of the novel we see light-hearted fiction flirting with the reader. In the second part it becomes increasingly darker. The idyll is being destroyed before our eyes. Vian managed to create his own fragile fantasy world, which does not tolerate contact with reality. This waking dream, at first filled with a fantasy as light as cotton candy, gradually develops into a terrible grotesque. This moment of transition is most successfully conveyed by the author. Thus, the novel combines two genres - utopia and dystopia.
Vian managed to create his own fragile fantasy world that does not tolerate contact with reality. This waking dream, at first filled with a fantasy as light as cotton candy, gradually develops into a terrible grotesque.
It’s amazing how the world around us changes along with the characters. In fact, this describes what happens to each of us, although we try not to notice it. For example, the idyllic nest of newlyweds Col and Chloe shrinks along with Chloe's illness, and her bed sinks to the floor. Vian shows that his heroes cannot exist in real world, merciless to the creatures hovering from flower to flower and charmingly helpless.
The main character has to work. The job search scene is one of the most powerful, scary and memorable in the book. Kolen comes to a greenhouse where people grow weapons from metal using the warmth of their own breasts. Loving sensitive Colin is too tender for this job. From its warmth, beautiful roses grow from metal, not weapons. The man who hired him copes with it, but has turned into a twenty-nine-year-old man. What could be scarier than this metaphor?
Any uncreative work not filled with love disgusts Vian. War is a particularly destructive business. As the Latin proverb says: when the guns speak, the muses are silent. The worst thing that can happen is the transformation of a person into a mechanism suitable only for military operations.
The first part of the novel simply sparkles bright colors, their entire palette - from “ordinary” colors (blue, red, green) to “neologism colors”: the color of coconut with milk, sour green. “The knee...was so open that you could see the blue and lilac thoughts pulsating in the veins of his arms.” In the episode of Chloe's funeral, everything turns into a colorless, faded mess. In the same scene, black humor reaches its apotheosis - Colin's conversation with the crucified indifferent Jesus, the suicide of a mouse, the blind orphanage girls singing a psalm...
In general, the aesthetics of black humor has always been close to Vian (this was most clearly manifested in the novel “I will come to spit on your graves”).
Pianoctail and heartbeater
There is a lot of autobiography in the novel. First of all, you pay attention to the abundance of music. Titles jazz compositions easily woven into the fabric of the novel, becoming a code that the characters exchange. What is one pianoctail worth - the dream of many readers of the novel. By playing any melody on the pianotail, you can make a cocktail and taste it. The heroes of the novel drink cocktails to the tunes of Ellington and Armstrong... The protagonist’s falling in love is also naturally accompanied by a musical leitmotif - the composition “Chloe” by Ellington, because this is the name of Colin’s beloved. Of course, auditory (or rather musical) associations are Vian’s main tool. But beyond this, he immerses us in bright world gustatory, tactile and visual sensations. For example, the same pianoctail is a fusion of taste and auditory impressions.
The mechanisms invented by Vian, which fill the novel, play a special role in it. This is the pianoctail - a symbol of dolce vita, and the terrible murder weapon of the sertseder, which Aliza plunges into Partre’s chest (will appear again in Vian’s novel of the same name “Sertseder”).
Of course, the novel is very difficult for theatrical and even film productions.
Kolen comes to a greenhouse where people grow weapons from metal using the warmth of their own breasts. Loving sensitive Colin is too tender for this job. From its warmth, beautiful roses grow from metal, not weapons.
With an abundance of fantastic elements that are difficult to convey on stage, it is similar to Ibsen’s “Peer Gynt” and Goethe’s “Faust.” In Vian, the “bored” Jesus on the crucifix, a cat and a mouse, as if coming from a Disney cartoon, are endowed with the gift of voice.
In general, this mouse is an important character in the book, a barometer of the mood of the story. At the beginning, she rejoices along with Colin and Chloe's carefree life, bathing in the rays of the sun. Then, when Chloe is sick, she hurts herself on the glass. And when Chloe dies, she commits suicide in the cat's mouth.
Like Lewis Carroll, Vian repeatedly uses the technique of literal interpretation metaphorical expressions and phraseological units (for example, “the walls are closing in”). Verbal play is expressed in a series of neologisms, puns, and telling names. Young people at the party dance fashionable dances: cross-eyed, dislocated and chilled. Chloe is being treated by Dr. D'Ermo. The wedding ceremony and funeral are managed by such ridiculous characters with altered church ranks as the Priest, the Superior, the Drunken Martyr and the Archbishop. It is interesting that the description of the wedding and funeral are somewhat similar. Thus, the narrative actually began with the wedding, closes with the funeral according to the canons of the ring composition.
Vian's style has something of the classic French grotesque, Francois Rabelais. He also likes to break boundaries, laugh at religious sacraments, and sometimes add something conventionally “greasy, indecent” (although in Vian’s universe the rules of decency are different). Thus, organizing a wedding ceremony is impossible without “wedding peders”.
Fantastic elements act as tools for witty parody. Behind the cardboard idol of Jean-Sol Partre, one can easily discern the idol of millions, an existentialist philosopher, with whom Vian was personally acquainted. The titles of his works are also parodied - for example, "Nausea" became "Vomit". By the way, the novel also contains a grotesque image of the Duchess de Boudoir (Simone de Beauvoir).
Vian ridicules the philosopher, for whom he had friendly feelings, not in order to ridicule his philosophy, but in order to cast doubt on the idea of ultimate truth.
The first date of Colin (Romain Duris) and Chloe (Audrey Tautou). film "Foam of Days", dir. Michel Gondry, 2013
I remember exactly when I read “Foam of Days” by Boris Vian. It was in 1987, on a train, when my friend Yura Baevsky and I went to rest in the then peaceful Abkhazia. The book was read in one day. After that I didn’t re-read it, because I remembered it very well. But, having recently watched Michel Gondry’s film based on this book, I realized that I still needed to re-read it. But let's take things in order.
Boris Vian. Novel
Boris Vian Let's start with who Boris Vian is. This amazing person- French poet and writer, jazz trumpeter and singer, film actor, author of completely crazy works written under 24 different pseudonyms. His works began to be considered classics immediately after his death. Unfortunately, he died before he even reached the age of 40... I think it’s worth writing about him separately. Here I want to briefly talk about him famous novel“Foam of Days” (1946), its opera and film incarnation.
“Foam of Days” was the first surreal book I read literary work. Read? Swallowed in less than a day and digested without residue. Digested so well that a number of images from this novel entered my flesh and blood, influencing my vision and perception of the world. I don’t re-read it only because I’m afraid of ruining the feeling that arose from reading the novel, which I have retained to this day.
Boris Vian created an amazing bright and unusual world. In it main character she is killed by the water lily that has settled in her lungs. The main character, in order to earn money for the treatment of his beloved, is forced to use the warmth of his body to grow rifle barrels. But he is fired from his job because the power of his love made these trunks bloom like steel roses, making them completely unsuitable for shooting.
Even then I was able to appreciate the parodic image of Jean-Sol Partre and his fanatics. After all, Boris Vian himself was friendly with one of greatest philosophers 20th century. Only the myths that fans piled up around their idol were ridiculed. By the way, I read “The Words” of Jean-Paul Sartre around the same time and gave me one of the basic principles of my life: “Know how to position yourself in such a way that people will look for you.” I can do this at work. In life it’s the opposite. Alas.
Despite the ease of style, reading a novel is by no means an easy task. It is literally scattered with various references to a variety of modern author the realities of French life. Their ignorance and misunderstanding, in general, has little effect on the perception of the novel. But I suspect that if the book is provided with a powerful reference apparatus, then perhaps the understanding of the novel and the author’s thoughts will become deeper.
I don’t think it’s worth retelling the plot of the novel - it’s a thankless task. Everyone will find something of their own in it. Someone tragic story love, some satire on Western European society and its values. Someone may perceive the novel simply as a cute, absurd work, enjoying the whimsical imagination of the author. As they say, suum cuique.
Foam days. First edition in Russian. M. Fiction. 1987
Not having the opportunity (and even the desire) to post the entire novel here, I will give only a few quotes from it.
- He almost always had good mood, and the rest of the time he slept.
- People don't change. Only things change.
- You know, I would like to get lost like a needle in a haystack. And it smells good, and no one will get me there...
- I am not interested in happiness for all people, but in happiness for everyone.
- I believe that familiarity is only permissible between people who herded pigs together, and this, as you know, is not our case.
- “My sister has lost her way,” admitted Nicolas. “She studied philosophy.” In a family that is proud of its traditions, they prefer to remain silent about such things.
- ...this story is completely true, since I made it up from beginning to end...
- The entrance door slammed behind him, making the sound of a kiss on his bare shoulder.
- He was so open that you could see the blue and lilac thoughts pulsating in the veins of his hands
- They work to live, instead of working to create machines that would enable them to live without working.
- There are only two things in the world that are worth living for: love for beautiful girls, whatever it is, New Orleans jazz or Duke Ellington. Everything else would be better off disappearing from the face of the earth, because everything else is just monstrosity.
- It's not true that you always have to be smart.
- Work is a disgusting thing, I know this very well, but what you do for your own pleasure cannot generate income
- ...and put the tip in his pocket, but it was clear from everything that he was a liar, that he didn’t drink tea, that for him it was not an innocent tip, but a wine tip, or even a cognac tip
Perhaps that's enough.
Edison Denisov. Opera
It’s difficult to say when I first heard the name of the Soviet avant-garde composer Edison Denisov. I think it was at Sofia Gubaidulina’s author’s concert, where she, answering a question from the audience, mentioned Edison Denisov, Elena Firsova, Alfred Schnittke and Boris Tchaikovsky. Perhaps a separate article should be devoted to him and his work.
I want to talk about my perception of his opera “Foam of Days”. Edison Denisov completed it in 1981, and its premiere took place in Paris five years later. Denisov himself wrote the opera's libretto, and wrote it in French. First of all, because Denisov considered Vian’s language itself to be very musical.
The novel itself is a multi-layered work. At least three semantic layers can be distinguished in it. The first layer is lyrical, it is associated with the love story of Colin and Chloe. The second is “Partrean”, the third is “absurd”. But Denisov decided to leave only one of all the layers - the lyrical one. Alas, I don’t know how to write about music like venerable critics, using special terminology. However, the late Frank Zappa once said: “writing about music is about the same as dancing about architecture.”
Edison Denisov - Suite from the opera Foam of Days, Record sleeve. Unfortunately, I didn't see the opera. I didn't even hear the whole thing. In my record collection there is a record released by the Melodiya record company. It contains the recording of “Suite from the opera Pena days” performed by the State Symphony Orchestra Ministry of Culture of the USSR. Alas, the libretto here is in Russian.
This is a rather difficult piece that requires intense listening. You can't listen to it on the subway or at work. And perhaps you should listen to it AFTER reading the novel. The world of opera, in my opinion, is darker and more tragic than the world of the novel. True, as far as I understand, a relatively small part of the opera fit on the record. But what can be heard is quite enough to understand several things. Firstly, is this music yours or not (although I didn’t really like it the first time). Secondly, to see the world of Boris Vian through the eyes of a very extraordinary person and composer - Edison Denisov.
I can’t call the opera a must-listen—it’s musical material quite difficult to digest for those whose perception of the classics is limited to the music of the 17th-19th centuries. It is too different from what is commonly called “classical” in everyday life.
Michel Gondry. Movie
Before Michel Gondry, there were two attempts to film “The Foam of Days” by Boris Vian. In 1968, during the riots in France, which, by the way, were predicted by Boris Vian, the film of the same name was shot by Charles Belmont. The picture was not accepted by either viewers or critics. This is evidenced by its low ratings both on the more pop-friendly IMDB server (5.9) and on the more “arthouse-centric” Kinopoisk. There the film did not even reach 5 (4.6). Of course, I didn’t waste time on it. The film “Chloe” by Japanese film director Go Riju, shot in 2001, caused me more hesitation between “watching and not watching.” To be honest, for some reason there was a persistent reluctance to watch this film. Perhaps I will overcome it with time. But its comparison with the outstanding film by Michel Gondry, in my opinion, is inevitable.
"Foam of days." Pianoctail It took me a while to decide to watch this film. For me, the very possibility of somehow conveying visual means world created by Boris Vian. Let yourself and with the use computer graphics. I’ll say right away: SUCCESSFUL! It seems to me that if Boris Vian himself were alive, he would not strongly object to such a film adaptation.
True, even here there were some scoffs in the direction of political correctness. This is how Nicolas became black (excellent performance by Omar Sy, whom many remember from the film “1+1”). And, unfortunately, the magnificent name of the monetary unit from the Russian translation - “inflyank”, was replaced by dobleson from the original. It’s a pity - it’s a rare case when a translation is better than the original :)
The film is filled a huge amount small details that create atmosphere absurd world Boris Vian. The quantity and quality of these details is such that I wanted to watch the film at least twice. The first time, almost frame by frame, revealing these details. And the second time already knowing “what lies where.”
And, of course, Audrey Tatu. It’s clear that “Amelie” will remain for me, but “Foam of Days” never spoiled this “Amelie” image. The tattoo is good.
I have no doubt that picky critics will find a lot of shortcomings in the film. I won't even try to argue with them. For me, the most important thing was that the atmosphere of the film and the mood it created turned out to be unusually close to what the book created for me. Perhaps it will be different for others.
In any case, I think the film is worth watching. I will be glad if someone enjoys it. And if someone decides to read a book after the movie (although, perhaps, it’s better before), then I’ll be somewhere even happy :)
P.P.S. “The Foam of the Days of Boris Vian also exists in the form of an audiobook. I don’t think anyone will finish it in one sitting - after all, 6.5 hours, but I’ll give a link to it. Just in case: in case someone wants to download!
Rating: 10
A little crazy, undoubtedly visionary and in places a stunningly brilliant thing, revealing an astonishing array of meanings. Vian’s slightly surreal style of writing and the incredible richness of the text with colors, images and sounds immediately catches the eye. Perhaps, it’s been a long time since I regretted so much that I don’t know French: it seems to me that the puns invented by translators are just the tip of the iceberg, hiding the puzzling linguistic quirks of the original. Vian says absolutely crazy things with a hilariously serious face. The author invites us to admire the play of the sun's rays on the stained glass mosaic, taste a cocktail of Duke Ellington's improvisations, and talk with the talking mouse who lives in the hero's bathroom. Around here, a pastoral and touching love story begins, everyone laughs and dances. The reader is captivated, and nothing foreshadows trouble.
And here comes the turning point. The love story turns into a sad tale of death and sacrifice. Happiness, laughter and light flow out of the heroes' lives like air from a punctured balloon. The world shrinks, the colors fade, the sounds of jazz become dull and indistinct. A cute parody of Sartre becomes an evil mockery, a mouse from the bathroom washes the lappi into blood, Chloe falls ill and is about to die. Colorful surrealism develops into the grotesque, mountains of corpses are piled up, duplicity and materialism triumph, cold metal rebels against living human warmth. And with all this, the same seriousness, the same incredible imagery and fantasy, the same ability with a couple of strokes to draw a living, convex image of the tragedy, infinitely far from hackneyed phrases and clichés. The collapse of the heroes' hopes is not inferior in strength and expression to the pictures of their recent happiness, and the most elaborate author's constructions are not able to hide from us the cruel reality of what is happening. Perhaps this is even scarier than Vian’s phantasmagoric horror stories. In short, the book is damn good. I don’t even remember where else the banal horrors of everyday life are shown with such visual power. An amazing novel, so unusual and so alive that you can only sigh in admiration.
Rating: 10
Boris Vian. Jazz critic, musician, poet, science fiction writer. Prone to shocking, scandalous famous writer, which became a classic after his death.
“Foam of Days” is a book that harmoniously combines the incongruous in the most paradoxical way: it is both frivolous and deep, sad and life-affirming.
Vian’s favorite technique is the visualization of a worn-out speech stamp, the transfer of phraseological units from language level to level artistic reality books (“Having performed the swallow brilliantly, she reaped the laurels, while the cleaner, meanwhile, swept away the laurel leaves that had scattered in all directions”). However, fate played with Vian cruel joke, having used it business card as a weapon. The writer, with his death, realized the metaphor of “killer film adaptation”, having died from heart attack during the premiere of the film based on his novel “I will come to spit on your graves.” And in general he had no luck in life. His literary hoax turned into a terrible scandal, and the prize for beginning authors, for which “Foam of Days” was written, was unexpectedly awarded to a far from beginning writer.
“Foam of Days” is a sad tale of love. The novel is built on the principle of contrast: the reader can trace how the style of presentation and language changes from chapter to chapter, turning from light, flying to oppressive and gloomy. The bright colors of the first chapters gradually fade, and in the finale a black image appears before the mind’s eye. white picture. As darkness envelops the characters’ apartment, the space of the book seems to shrink; the floor meets the ceiling, living flowers wither and turn to dust.
Of particular note is Vian’s unique humor. Perhaps you have never read such talented and elegant banter in your life. Vian parodies everything that can turn into a cliché, all the fashionable hobbies of the French youth of the forties: jazz, surrealism, existentialism... Existentialism suffered the most. “The problem of choice for nausea on especially thick toilet paper”, “a volume of “Vomit” bound in the skin of a stink” will be remembered for a long time by a reader familiar with the work of Jean Sol Partre, ugh! Jean Paul Sartre.
Rating: 10
The most true story, wrapped in a cloak of unreality and permeated true feelings, forcing you to think differently and see things as they really are.
The beginning of the book, permeated with light, music, happiness and the belief that each new day will bring something more good, shrinks to one endlessly pulsating note of despair in the fevered brain of the protagonist at the end of this work.
Very few books make us think about something in this life. This book makes you not only think, but feel every word and every gesture of the characters.
I read “Foam of Days” only once and a very long time ago. I never even tried to read it again precisely because the book is simply indescribable and you realize that it is very difficult to relive all its events again. And you will never feel one moment again - you will not be able to regain your original feeling of joy from discovering and realizing that such a book exists.
Rating: 10
Cinematic novel.
I had been aiming for a long time, and only the premiere of the film of the same name by Michel Gondry (himself a master of the rare: “The Science of Sleep”, “Rewind”, “Eternal Sunshine” collapsed in the summer) pure reason") made me cling to the source of the original text.
The level of visionaryness - now I’ll mix two mutually inappropriate but mutually reinforcing concepts into a piano cocktail: visionaryness and visualization - is simply prohibitive.
Undoubtedly, it is worth adding the deepest kinestheticity (again in two layers: touching and disgusting touch) and lightness. Vian does not write, he smokes and writes out this text with the finest feathers of fragrant tobacco smoke.
It was on the example of this work of the pen that Vianova was able to formulate for himself the difference between fantastic and human literature:
The first one kneels before the idea (the same principle: tear out the root of the phantom assumption, and the whole sprout will wither)
The second can flirt with unrealistic details as much as it wants, but it tells about a person, feelings and relationships, essentially telling a kind of proto-story, like the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Eden
Rating: 8
Holding a 270-page book in my hands, I couldn’t help but feel upset because, as usual, the publishing houses ripped out my hard-earned money. Imagine my surprise when I came across a story similar to Alice in Wonderland. Here you will not find plot dynamics. Rather, it is a mixture of gourmet food, jazz, blues. There is a place for religion - endlessly ridiculed by Vian. (I later learned how contemptuous the author is for the church).
The six main characters of the book, around whom life, saturated with magic, splashes. I don’t know how to say exactly, but I think this is the same magical realism. Colin is a rich young man who wants to fall in love. Chic is his poor best friend, who fanatically collects things and books by Jean-Sol Partre (the play on words is obvious - Vian creates a parody of Sartre). Beautiful girls Aliza and Isis. Nicolas is a chef from God who works for Colin and is his friend. And finally, the wonderful, dreamy girl Chloe. It is around Chloe that the entire plot will play out. Home theme song books - the work "Chloe" blues arranged by Duke Ellington. Chloe and Colin's wedding, their crazy love, her illness.
The atmosphere of this elegant, dark and tragic story captivates and does not let go. Excellent language and style of work.
Rating: 10
A young man named Colin passionately desires to fall in love. And he falls in love - with a girl named Chloe. They get married, but Chloe falls ill, and Colin does everything to help Chloe recover.
The main characters, like the story itself, are superficial. Moreover, they are not at all attractive. Colin, squandering his fortune, an infantile unable to work, Chloe, a typical fairy girl, Colin's servant Nicolas, who does not miss more than one skirt, and apparently suffers from something like a split personality, their comrade Chic, an obsession who spends all his money on books Jean-Sol. Partre (a bold hint of one for everyone famous philosopher), how some modern audiophiles collect releases of their favorite groups, Chic's girlfriend Aliza, who allows Chic to do this and shows unambiguous signs of attention to Colen... so, were any of the other characters in the novel? Oh yes. Mouse. Here she is – the most adequate and pleasant character in the book.
I fully admit that in the original, in French, the novel may turn out to be much more impressive - after all, language games are difficult to translate, but in the form in which the book is presented to the Russian-speaking reader now, it, unfortunately, does not represent anything unusual. Just one story failed love with a slight touch of surrealism and a soundtrack by Duke Ellington. Literally a couple of hours after reading, nothing remains in my head - to write this review I even had to pick up the book again and leaf through it. Fortunately, it’s quite short.
Rating: 5
Look around and you will notice how life is seething around in all its splendor, foaming and playing. And when you wake up every day, imagine that you have a mouse dancing under the rays of the bright sun, which, if something happens, will give everything just to help at the moment when everything is going to hell. And it’s probably worth listening, then you’ll hear the crackling of foaming life.
Before us is a world of whimsicalities, absurdities and improbabilities, but it frightens us with its reality so much that we want to get lost, like a needle in a haystack. And it smells good, and no one will bother me there. A world of absurdities that would never happen to anyone at the same time shows people like us with the same problems, dreams and aspirations. A world where human warmth is given to the cold metal of weapons, where young people want love, not work; someone gives their last money to obsession, not noticing and rejecting the most valuable.
A novel that begins with light and bright colors, ends in dimmed light and despair. All heroes ultimately - tragic fates. In this foam of days around us there are others who, perhaps, lack a little mouse that can change their existence. Or incapable. This is a love story so tragic that no surrealism with its unusual images can weaken the weight of unhappy love that crushed the main characters. Gradually, the rooms become smaller, the windows become overgrown, the tiles turn into wood, and the sun grows dim. What is this? No, it’s something different for everyone.
It's over. All destinies unraveled and became clearer. But then that same mouse appears, showing in the last lines the quintessence of all life...
Rating: 9
“Tenderly, gently, subtly, subtly...”
Overall, an unusually graceful and chaste love story: smile: Probably similar to the incredible music of a pianoforte: smile: And yet too frivolous. Later I came across lines from Beigbeder’s essay “ Best books XX century"
“Surely there will be people who don’t like “Foam of Days”, who find this book too naive or frivolous, and I want to solemnly announce to them, these people, right here that I feel sorry for them, because they did not understand the most important thing in literature. Want to know what it is? Charm." Brrr - and this is about me:eek: Despite all the admiration for the wonderful fantasy, extraordinary lightness and charm of the narrative... I did not leave, looming in the depths of consciousness, irritation from the complete sloppiness, nihilism, and selfishness of the heroes, the existence of which resembles a well-known fable Krylova
Rating: 3
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Colin was finishing his toilet. After taking a bath, he wrapped himself in a wide terry sheet, leaving only his legs and torso naked. He took a spray bottle from the glass shelf and sprinkled the volatile aromatic oil on his blonde hair. An amber comb divided his silky hair into thin orange strands, reminiscent of the furrows that a cheerful plowman makes with a fork on a saucer of apricot jam. Putting the comb aside, Colin armed himself with nail clippers and cut the edges of his matte eyelids at an angle to give his look a mysterious look. He often had to do this - his eyelids grew back quickly. Colin turned on the light bulb of the magnifying mirror and moved closer to it to check the condition of his epidermis. Several eels lurk at the wings of the nose. Strongly enlarged, they were amazed at their ugliness and immediately scurried back under the skin. Colin turned off the light bulb with relief. He unraveled the sheet that was tight around his thighs and used the tip of it to remove the last drops of water between his toes. His reflection in the mirror seemed to him to be surprisingly similar to someone - well, of course, the blond guy who plays the role of Slim in Hollywood Canteen. Round head, small ears, straight nose, golden skin. He smiled so often with a baby smile that a dimple could not help but appear on his chin. He was quite tall, slender, long-legged and generally very cute. The name Kolen probably suited him. He spoke kindly to the girls, and cheerfully to the guys. He was almost always in a good mood, and the rest of the time he slept.
Having pierced the bottom of the bathtub, he released the water from it. The light yellow ceramic tile floor in the bathroom was sloping and water flowed into a gutter just above the desk of the occupant of the apartment below. Recently, without warning Colin, he rearranged his furniture. Now water was pouring onto the sideboard.
Kolen slipped his feet into batskin sandals and put on an elegant lounge suit - bottle-colored corduroy trousers and a pistachio satin jacket. He hung a terry sheet on the drying rack, threw a foot mat over the side of the bathtub and sprinkled it with coarse salt to draw water out of it. The rug was immediately spat on - it was all covered with clusters of soap bubbles.
Leaving the bathroom, Colin moved to the kitchen to personally oversee the final preparations. As always on Mondays, Chic, who lived nearby, dined with him. True, today was still Saturday, but Colin was eager to see Chic and treat him to the dishes that his new cook Nicolas had inspiredly prepared. Twenty-two-year-old Chic was the same age as Colin and also a bachelor, and besides, he shared his literary tastes, but he had much less money. Colin, on the other hand, had a fortune sufficient to not work for others and not deny himself anything. But Chic had to run to his uncle’s ministry every week to get some money from him, because his profession as an engineer did not allow him to live at the level of his workers, and commanding people who are dressed better than you and eat better is very difficult. Trying his best to help him, Colin called him to dinner under any pretext. However, Chic's painful pride forced Colin to be constantly on guard - he was afraid that too frequent invitations would betray his intentions.
The corridor, glassed on both sides, leading to the kitchen, was very bright, and the sun was blazing on each side, because Colin loved light. Everywhere you look, there are brass taps polished to a shine. The play of sunlight on their sparkling surface produced an enchanting impression. Kitchen mice often danced to the sound of the rays breaking on the taps and chased tiny sunbeams that endlessly crushed and tossed across the floor like yellow mercury balls. Kolen casually stroked one mouse: it had long black mustaches, and the gray fur on its slender body shone miraculously. The cook fed the mice excellently, but did not let them eat away. During the day, the mice behaved as quietly as mice and played only in the corridor.
Colin pushed open the enamel kitchen door. Cook Nicolas kept his eyes on the dashboard. He sat at the control panel, also covered with light yellow enamel. The dials of various kitchen appliances that stood along the wall were built into it. The needle on the electric stove, programmed to fry the turkey, quivered between “almost done” and “done.” The bird was about to be taken out. Nicolas pressed the green switch, which activated a mechanical probe that easily pierced the turkey, and at the same instant the needle froze at the “ready” mark. With a quick movement, Nicolas turned off the power supply to the stove and turned on the plate heater.
- Will it be delicious? – Colin asked.
“Monsieur has no doubt,” assured Nicolas. – The turkey is calibrated very precisely.
– What did you cook for a snack?
– Ah, this time I didn’t invent anything and started pure plagiarism. At Guffe's.
-Your lip is not stupid! Colin noted. – What passage of his great creation are you reproducing?
“The one set out on page six hundred and thirty-eight of his Cookbook.” Now, monsieur, I will read it to you.
Colin sat down on a stool upholstered in porous rubber, topped with oiled silk to match the color of the kitchen walls, and Nicolas began to read:
– “Bake the pate as for an appetizer. Cut a large eel and cut it into slices three centimeters thick. Place the pieces of fish in a pan, pour in white wine, add salt, pepper, thinly sliced onion, two or three sprigs of parsley, a little cumin, bay leaf and a clove of garlic...” However, I, alas, was not able to pull it out as expected, because our dental pliers are completely loose.
“I’ll order you to buy new ones,” said Colin.
Nicolas continued:
– “...When the eel is cooked, remove it from the pan and place it on a baking sheet. Strain the broth through a silk sieve, add a little Spanish and simmer over low heat until the sauce thickens. Pass it through a hair sieve, pour it over the fish and boil for two minutes, no more. Then place the pieces of eel on the pate, garnish with fried champignons, stick a bouquet of carp milk in the middle and pour the remaining sauce over it all.”
“Okay,” Colin approved. “I hope Chic appreciates this.”
“I don’t have the pleasure of knowing Monsieur Chic,” said Nicolas, “but if he doesn’t like this dish, then next time I’ll prepare something else, and in this way I will gradually be able to determine with a great degree of accuracy the whole range of his tastes.” addictions from to to to.
“Of course,” Colin said. “Then I’ll leave you, Nicolas.” I'll go set the table.
He walked down the corridor in the opposite direction, crossed the hallway and found himself in the dining room, the servant's room and the living room: its beige-pink walls and blue carpet did not tire the eyes, even when they were wide open.
There is one French writer, long deceased, Boris Vian. It could not be published not for political reasons, but for artistic reasons, because of the very method of artistic presentation. And so I decided to really not give up on this task and translated it little novel"Foam of days." And at that moment I was asked to conduct a seminar for young translators from French - university and foreign language graduates. I invited Nyomochka Naumov to lead this seminar with me, and the two of us decided - which was completely daring - to give it to our children for translation based on Vian’s story.
In my opinion, there is no more difficult prose writer to translate - it’s like translating poetry. Because Vian is all about wordplay, associations, idioms that cannot be found in the Russian language, since each language has its own idiomatic expressions and the whole game is based on French phraseology. So, what is the task in such cases? In short, you must definitely find your own, completely different idiom or play on words, often ten miles from the French one, but which evokes the same feeling, the same association. This is an extremely difficult task, it’s really like a line of a poem, an image of a poem, it’s not any easier. It took me a long time to translate “Foam of Days.” Six and a half sheets, I probably translated half a page for almost two years, a page a day, and not every day.
In total, Vian’s collection took three years to complete. The editor who ran it was very nice man, he kept telling me: Lilya, just don’t rush, let the director go on vacation, let this one get sick, let him move to another job... Because the volume had to be promoted through the authorities, avoiding possible dangers. Vian writes in the preface that there is nothing in the world worth living for except beautiful girls And jazz music. Well, is it possible to translate and print such a book in the Soviet Union? Unfortunately, this editor himself did not live to see the publication of the collection. And the book, surprisingly, was published. Well, it was a success – that’s not the right word: it seeped into dry sand like a drop of water in an instant.
