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^ Fee Download Prehistoric Times, by Eric Chevillard

Fee Download Prehistoric Times, by Eric Chevillard

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Prehistoric Times, by Eric Chevillard

Prehistoric Times, by Eric Chevillard



Prehistoric Times, by Eric Chevillard

Fee Download Prehistoric Times, by Eric Chevillard

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Prehistoric Times, by Eric Chevillard

The narrator of Prehistoric Times might easily be taken for an inhabitant of Beckett’s world: a dreamer who in his savage and deductive folly tries to modify reality. The writing, with its burlesque variations, accelerations, and ruptures, takes us into a frightening and jubilant delirium, where the message is in the medium and digression gets straight to the point. In an entirely original voice, Eric Chevillard asks looming and luminous questions about who we are, the paths we’ve been traveling, and where we might be going – or not.

  • Sales Rank: #2127807 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2012-07-10
  • Released on: 2012-07-10
  • Format: Kindle eBook

Review
Prehistoric Times shows Chevillard at his best: off-kilter and linguistically dazzling, playful and acrobatic, quite mad but always entertaining—and all impossibly captured by Alyson Waters' fluid and masterful translation. —Brian Evenson, author of Windeye and Immobility

Chevillard’s book is a very profound contemplation on the nature of posterity; it may even be inferred that throughout Prehistoric Times Chevillard writes with an awareness that his own artistic production will be dwarfed within the great span of time against which all human beings must live out their brief existence. —Jordan Anderson, The Quarterly Conversation

Praise for Chevillard’s Palafox:

Mix together one pinch of surrealism, one pinch of ‘situationalism,’ stir in a large measure of poetry, quite a bit of talent and you will get a glittering novel of intelligence and humor . . . —Jean-Claude Lebrun, Révolution

Eric Chevillard involves his reader in a powerful meditation on evil, foolishness, and inhumanity lurking in the heart of man. —Jean-Maurice de Montremy, Lire

The current American new fabulism could learn a great deal from this very amusing book and its willingness to take real narrative risks...Beautifully translated by Wyatt Mason, Palafox is a must for anyone interested in anti-realist fiction. —Rain Taxi

Eric Chevillard involves his reader in a powerful meditation on evil, foolishness, and inhumanity lurking in the heart of man. —Jean-Maurice de Montremy

About the Author
Eric Chevillard is one of the most inventive authors writing in French today. His novels include On the Ceiling, The Crab Nebula, and Demolishing Nisard, all translated by Jordan Stump, and Palafox (Archipelago), translated by Wyatt Mason.

Alyson Waters’s translations include Albert Cossery’s A Splendid Conspiracy and The Colors of Infamy, Vassilis Alexakis’s Foreign Words, René Belletto’s Coda, and – with Donald Nicholson- Smith – Yasmina Khadra’s Cousin K. She lives in Brooklyn and teaches at Yale University and New York University.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Boborikine was not a big man, though not preposterously small, he must have stood, amounted to, or measured a head shorter than me, judging from his uniform, but this head, though shorter, was most definitely wider than mine, judging from his cap, and his limbs were shorter than my own, no doubt in proportion to his modest height, but too short for a man such as myself and consequently the sleeves of his jacket and the legs of his trousers are also too short, whereas with each step I take his shoes slip off my feet, first the left, then the right, then the left, from which I gather his feet were bigger than mine, perhaps even a bit too big for a man his size, just as his stomach was fatter, much fatter than mine because, really, I seem to be spy- ing on the world from behind my curtains in this gigantic jacket, peeping at the little world that surrounds me. Boborikine is dead. I am his replacement. His uniform does not suit me, not in the least. I asked for a new one, made to measure. To be more efficient, I argued, convinced that this argument was sound; to be stricter, prompter, adding: and to represent the profession with greater dignity. I’d even go so far as to believe that my request will be heard on high and satisfied at long last, after all the dillydallying by the administration.

Most helpful customer reviews

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Fun Times in Prehistory
By James W. Fonseca
This is a book of elaborate word play, translated from the French. It's about archaeology, reflected upon by a graduate student who is in charge of a gift shop and giving tours of cave paintings. But he's a lackadaisical dreamer, we surmise, by the number of time he incites fury in his supervising professor and by the fact that in the end he gets fired and barricades himself in the gift shop! Amid the convoluted writing style we learn a bit about geology, bone fossilization, Carbon 14 dating and methods of cave paintings used in prehistoric times. Our narrator also performs some amateur archaeology by going through the stuff in drawers accumulated by his predecessor. But the main fun is in the words: "...must certain men remain immobile, inert even, so as to serve as reference points for the active ones...and bad examples? "...digression really is the shortest distance between two points, the straight line being so very congested." "Whereas we are sure of absolutely nothing when it comes to prehistoric times, we know nothing, or almost nothing." "In truth, everything is very simple and somewhat disappointing." We can see from these quotes why our narrator got in trouble. It's an "interesting" book, but to be honest, I think you would have to be an archaeologist or, better, a graduate student in archaeology to really like it.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
A demotion to a guide/guard for prehistoric paintings - can we de-evolve?
By TonyMess
Talk about going from the absurd to the ridiculous, I should have thought about my next reading journey a little deeper than just picking up Chevillard and saying “this will do”, from Krasznahorkai to Chevillard, now there’s a journey. Quarterly have described Chevillard as “France’s foremost absurdist”, even Wikipedia says “postmodernist literature”, yep I’m in for a surprise.

Our novel opens with our unnamed protagonist/narrator telling us that he is unfit for the job of guard/guide of the Pales caves as the uniform is too small, the cap is too large and the shoes too big. The caves contain Palaeolithic paintings, and our protagonist has been “demoted” to the role of guide/guard as he injured himself falling whilst on an archaeologist tour (he’s is an archaeologist without a kneecap).

This is where our novel takes a turn into the land of “strange”, our writer doesn’t want to actually start our protagonist’s story, our guide doesn’t want to go to work as a guide, procrastination and delay are the themes, our hero is potentially unevolving (?), disevolving(?), evolving backwards, is he slowly becoming prehistoric?

No two skulls are alike, as any peasant growing his turnips on the site of an ancient necropolis can tell you; no two turnips either, even if an exhumed skull is sometimes so similar to a turnip that you can mistake one for the other. When you think about it, it might even be that our particular casts of mind – each unique – depend solely on the shape of our skull, individual thought testing itself first against the bone of its brainpan, like music molding itself to the geometry of a dome without regard for the musician’s intentions. Just a hypotheses I’m throwing out here. Indeed, I’m going beyond the call of my duties. But since I haven’t yet taken them up…Let’s grant for a moment that this hypothesis is correct, in which case we can legitimately claim that one’s thoughts will develop more freely in a huge-domed skull – but with the risk of getting lost or confused – than in a narrow, pointy skull, unless, on the contrary, they become sharper and burst forth, which is not impossible. My starting hypothesis thus branches out into diverging subhypotheses: this is how webs are woven; truth cannot be caught by the hand.

For my full review go to http://messybooker.blogspot.com.au/

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