Oulipo is great! This book is just so full of STUFF. What they did was just spend a lot of time thinking of wild ways to inspire & direct writing, & what we're left with is this labyrinth of experimrents. For me, the one of the greatest things gleaned from Oulipo is just the general sense that therec are sooo many more conceptual & logistical systems out there that you haven't even touched upon yet but that are waiting.

If you ever come across Arthur Brand's little article on the Oulipo, cherish it. I read it back in the late 80s, in an anthology somewhere, and I've never been able to find it since. It whet my appetite for these crazy masters of restricted composition, who spend their time devising totally new ways to write. This isn't a book for the "poetry of everyday life" set, or writing workshop clones. It's a book, as Brand said, for "mad scientists, mathematicians, monster-makers and angels." It's a writer's encylopedia, stuffed with ideas, strategies, graphs, games, machines, etc for making poetry and fiction.

Before reading this book, I didn't know anything about Oulipo....do you? If not, here's the gist: Oulipo are a bunch of slightly crazy people who want to find new and fun ways to write stuff. So, they create all these interesting and zany techniques to generate their writing...to me, it seems similar to how modern composers generate notes and rhythms using tone rows and stuff like that. This book is a "compendium" of these techniques, Oulipo authors, their works, etc. I think it's great. I'd recommend it to writers who want to try something new (as opposed to just writing "from the heart", or whatever) and I'd also recommend it to people who like modern, formalist type stuff. Have fun.

...that unites us all. The sheer breadth of fantasy, mechanical aids and passive witness employed in these 61 tableux is staggering: hysterical, sad, inventive, invective, or finally just so blatantly quotidian you suddenly find yourself acknowledging your habituated pleasures in a similar light.

If you don't feel the need for the illustrations (I personally prefer it without), the complete text of "Singular Pleasures" is included in the Mathews prose anthology "The Way Home" published by the ever-trustworthy Atlas Press.

The concept, as I read it, is that most of us are bound by a common secret--masturbation--and that the lengths we go to in order to achieve release are what makes us distinct from each other as individuals--our imaginations. To prove it, Mathews, one of America's best unkowns, has written 61 vignettes of people of all ages and nationalities doing whatever it takes to express themselves. For example: "A man of thirty-five is about to experience orgasm in one of the better condominiums in Gaza. He is masturbating, but neither hand nor object touches his taut penis: arranged in a circle, five hairblowers direct their streams of warm air toward that focal point. He has plugged his ears with wax balls." Not all the vignettes are as funny; some are sad, some are touching, some make you tilt your head to one side, hoping for understanding; hoping in vain.

This book is best described by "Trial Impressions," a 30-part poem which dominates the middle of the book. The first part of the poem reprints, verbatim, a short piece by the English poet John Dowland. The rest of the poems in the sequence rewrite this poem, each in a different way: as sestina, as Mallarmean sonnet, as contemporary plea ("Up to Date"), as an Oulipo "N+7" exercise (using two different dictionaries), as a detective riddle, as a palindrome, as Chinese imagism ("The Wang Way."), etc. The closest precedent to this amazing poem is Raymond Queneau's "Exercises in Style," another Oulipean tour de force. The poem is funny, touching, and maddening. There are other great works in the book, including the title piece (a very interesting faux "translation" of a nonexsistent prose precedent). And there is also "Histoire," perhaps the funniest sestina in the English language. This is a seduction narrative in which the repeated end-words are "Feminism," "Fascism," "Militarism," Marxism-Leninism," "Sexism," and "Racism." It's amazing to read this sestina and watch such words get drained of their meaning yet strangely re-energized.

a classic. a comedy of manners that gradually interconnects a milieu of upper middle class americans -- the most seemingly straightforward and accessible of mathews' novels.

Works of fiction contain a single plot, with all of its imaginable permutations, Tlon, Uglor, Orbiris, Tertius - Jorge Louis Borges

Warren F. Motte has collected a series of critical writing from The Ouvrior de Litterature Potentielle or Oulipo (The Workshop of Potential Literature), a primarily French group organized around Raymond Queneau and primarily concerned with methods of creating new literary structures. Their ideas offer a welcome relief to the staid and stale conviction that literary forms have been handed down from the ancients along with the rest of language, as if structures like sonnets or mystery novels are as intrinsically a part of language as vowels or nouns.

These essays illuminate the limited ways that contemporary fiction approaches the idea of form. In the limited framework of the short story structure, readers find great variation and even invention, but the actual form of the story seems as rigid a language structure as the blues are a song structure, tirelessly repeating the AAB structure into infinity; I asked my captain for the time of day. I asked my captain for the time of day. He said hed thrown his watch away.

A writer who wants to be free needs to confront the constrictions and value of literary form. Yet, literary form seems to come out of a black box, so much so that writing that somehow confounds formats, like Lawrence Sternes Tristam Shandy or Edwin A. Abbotts Flatland or more recently Ben Marcuss The Age of Wire and String seems to be inspired but frivolous oddities rather than the result of a literary method. The Oulipo, however, have developed a method for subverting expectations and for being as creative with form as writers are expected to be with content. Franáois Le Lionnais writes in the Second Oulipo Manifesto, Should humanity lie back and be satisfied to watch new thoughts make ancient verses?

Literature that satisfies a particular

form fulfills the esthetic aims of that form. For instance, the novel developed several hundred years ago as a result of an expanded middle class audience. The form typically follows a protagonists conflict with society and in the end the protagonist either achieves some kind of reconciliation with society or dies; the form of the novel performs as both a platform for an anarchic point of view but also reassures its audience that eccentricity will be absorbed in the end. A sonnet straps language into iambic pentameter, a straight jacket rhyme scheme, and limits the subject to a single sentiment. The Poetry Handbook includes this rule for the sonnet, Groups of sonnets using the same form and relate to the same theme, which is often love of a women or the love of God. The inherent value of the form exerts a hidden force on the content of the work. Form functions like a medium and in this sense limits the range of meaning expressed by language just as wood grain limits

the direction of the carved line in a wood block.

By building mazes and trying to escape them, the Oulipo have started a dialogue about ways to imagine new literary structures. By building artificial rules the Oulipo have escaped the prison of old forms.

Founded in late 1960 in France, at a colloquium on the work of Raymond Queneau, in order to research new writing by combining mathematics and literature (and also to just horse around) the Oulipo soon expanded to include all writing using self-imposed restrictive systems. The group didnt publicly publish until 1973, La Litterature Potentielle. The best known of the groups work are Italo Calvinos If on a winters night a traveler and Georges Perecs Life: A Users Manual. A truncated role call of the more familiar names includes: Noël Arnaud, Italo Calvino, Ross Chambers, Stanley Chapman, Marcel Duchamp, Paul Fournal, Franáois Le Lionnais, Harry Matthews, Georges Perec, and Raymond Queneau.

Oulipo contains the critical writings of the Oulipo, including Franáois Le Lionnaiss Manifestoes, a history of the Lipogram by Georges Perec, and Jacques Roulaurds explanation of the mathematical method of Raymond Queneau. Reading the critical writing gives a foundation in the method and the nature of the groups experiment. Jean Lescures Brief History of the Oulipo chronicles the formulation of the group as an formally informal gathering of mathematicians and writers who began to apply mathematical formulas to literary forms. The end matter of the book contains a thorough bibliography of the principal Oulipo players and their work.

Raymond Queneaus Cent Mille Millards de Poems (One hundred thousand billion poems), expresses the Oulipian ideal. It is a series of ten sonnets contrived so that each line of each sonnet can be replaced with any corresponding line of the other ten sonnets, sort of like a sonnet version of one of those childrens flip-books where you can change the head of animals. The possibilities put forth by this arrangement would be to the order of 1014, one hundred trillion sonnets. The potential text explodes into an incomprehensible size. According to [Queneaus] calculations, if one read a sonnet per minute eight hours a day, two hundred days per year, it would take more than a million centuries to finish the text.

The Oulipo seem to be most interested in discovering how to express literature by limiting the writers choices, either by the construction of mathematical formulas that produce results, formal constraints and rules that produces results, or language games that produce results, in this sense I mean results as in the result of an equation. The lipogram, where a single letter is stricken from the text, is an ancient exercise the Oulipians have appropriated for their toolbox. Ideally, each Oulipian structure would result in one potential literature, not necessarily a single text because The One Hundred Thousand Billion Poems is a single potential literature, but nearly an infinite text. For a writer, drafting an Oulipian work should be more like filling out a crossword puzzle or doing calculus homework then an act of inspiration. The muse has had her hard drive reformatted and inspiration is not to be trusted.

To practitioners approaching writing as a craft, as if the writing of stories was along the lines of knitting sweaters, this exploration seems at best frivolous and maybe a little pretentious if all you want to do is make sweaters. However, these are useful generative tools. Not only do they provide a developed handbag of new literary forms, but these tools also establish a solid framework for developing a criticism about literary structure. This book is a vital and concise introduction to the Oulipian technique.

For several days upon completing this book, I found myself laughing uncontrollably at the memory of certain passages. Does this book poke fun at Mathew's strategies as an Oulipian? We don't know. We just have to laugh and pity the character's obsession with order and structure. I recommend this book to anyone who is interested in observing how we write, think and react to a crisis.

Have you ever worried about that thought that keeps running through your head, again and again? A line from a song that won't let go of you? A need to get into the details of the details of the details? If so, get yourself a copy of The Journalist. Read it. You'll immediately feel the tension draining away: You may be bad, but nowhere near THAT bad. What a relief!

Of course, it won't hurt if you're also a Harry Mathews fan like I am. And an Oulipo fan. And if you're not acquainted with either, this is as good a place as any to get started with both of them. Enjoy!

The plot of the story, interesting as it is, becomes secondary to how this book is written. Addictive and hard to put down!

The imagination runs wild in this book -- rather like a chariot with a wheel slipping from its axis. A maddening read -- I couldn't finish this book in one sitting , as someone commented above. One chapter a night was all I could handle, and with the plot and locales veering all over the map, I had a hard time remembering what I had read the night before. And yet, I knew that I absolutely HAD to finish Tlooth, and when I did, I was glad; the end reveals what this book is about (and it is about something after all). Erudite, staggeringly digressive, subversive, dreamlike, pansexual: TLOOTH gives mainstream fiction a rousing slap on the behind. (Expand that metaphor into something more knuckle-y, and you'll get the gist of what I really mean.) It's not a book in the usual sense of the world. It's a disorientation. Either you are up to it, or you aren't. NOT an Oprah Book Club selection (thank God)!

Damned if I know, but I'll lean towards the latter. Fascinating stuff; this novel is like a jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing, pieces from other puzzles thrown in, or maybe just a few too many pieces to make a cohesive whole. Is it genius? It certainly is one of the most unique books I've ever read, and one of the most difficult; the innumerous games spotted about the text almost makes me feel as if the author is challenging us. "Go on, you stupid idjit," he says, "Come along and figure me. If you can." It shure as hell beat me...but even if I can't figure it out, there are enough moments of Heller-esque lunacy to make this book worthwhile...such as the savage tribe whose numbers are dwindling because they believe the sun will not rise without a human sacrifice...or the mysterious bog which utters...er, well...or the ingenious baseball game played with a rigged ball set against the somber backdrop of a siberian prison camp. Lovely stuff...so, it comes highly recommended, but try not to get too frustrated when the book just seems to be written expressely for that purpose. One more game: how do you visualise the narrator? Are you so sure that's who the narrator is? Do you really know this character? (Note: those who finish the book fair and square should know what I'm talking about...Sure caught me by surprise. Hee...)

Wow! This is the first book in a long while that I sat down and read straight through in one sitting, and then read it again the next day. This book is layered and layered again, twisting through puzzles, puns and wordgames that revolve back into itself. It's wildly imaginative in its style and content, and the over the top humor would suit fans of Pynchon and Barthelme, but his control of the language and playfulness is even more extreme once you allow yourself to dig in. This is not a quick read for the subway, but a novel that will challenge your expectations and ideas on what a piece of fiction should and should not be.

This is a book that was meticulously planned - word play and images, false starts and unreliable history - all in an interplay that is both riveting and frustrating. Riveting because of the quality of the imagination; frustrating because reading is one long riddle requiring very intense concentration by the reader.

The book is filled with wordplay ... most notably beginning with a gypsy "game" of describing the scene on a ball filled with boiling water ...; the narrator wins the game in what is called "a new triumph ... of analytical poetry over descriptive prose". Songs seem to carry hidden messages. Horse pedigrees are given in exhaustive detail. A man writes and speaks backwards - two languages, in effect, for one reverses sounds, the other letter. Old manuscripts hide clues in the red letters at the beginning of each line - if you only know what to add and where to divide. Authors and titles of books seized at customs, nine civil servants each of whom distorts language more strongly than the predecessor.

Through all the word play is a plot that is entertaining - but not always sufficiently so to motivate one to put the work into reading that this novel demands.

In short, The Conversions has a fascinating use of language in a satisfactory plot; the author is in full control at all times. Well worth your time ... but chose your time well.

Harry Mathews is the most important novelist writing in the English language that no one reads. It's a pity, for he writes with a style and engagement that, if left in less talented hands, could be considered effete, but with his mastery of language and narrative comes off as pure genius.

The Conversions is essentially about solving a riddle, but the search for its answer allows Mathews to do what he's best at: telling stories, and in all respects displaying a love for and engaging with the potential of language.

If you've not read Mathews before, this book will get you hooked; you'll soon want to read his novels, his essays, poems and other pieces, and will soon recognize that he is an American master, one whose works will only grow in stature with the years.

Founded in late 1960 in France, at a colloquium on the work of Raymond Queneau, in order to research new writing by combining mathematics and literature (and also to just horse around) the Oulipo (The Ouvrior de LittÈrature Potentielle or Oulipo (The Workshop of Potential Literature)) expanded to include all writing using self-imposed restrictive systems.

Potential Literature, to me, seems an extension of Surrealism, which used the methods of literary production to critique modernism's obsession with the literary artifact; instead of the myth of the artist alone in some garret painstakingly crafting a Work of Art, literature is automatically generated by timed writing, or mechanically generated by multiple authors with games like the Exquisite Corpse or pieced together in a collage of found text. The Oulipo extends this the critique of modernism by exploring ways that literature can be produced as a result of mathematical formulas, or by building complex rules that limit writer's potential choices, or by the construction of new literary forms.

This book serves as a short introduction to the methods of potential literature several reprints from the groups pamphlet series, including François Le Lionnais's Manifestos and Italo Calvino's essay "How I Wrote One of My Books," which served as the blue print for If On a Winter's Nigh a Traveler.

Oulipo is a body of generative ideas rather than a critical or analytical method. It does away with philosophical underpinning in favor of just generating writing. Raymond Queneau regretted that writer's didn't use tools like other craftsmen. With word-processors, they do and this text supplies a range of techniques for extending mechanical writing beyond spell check. The muse has had her hard drive reformatted.

This book is a riot! I highly recommend it. All of the texts are funny but Fornel's Suburbia is the funniest produced yet by the Oulipians. In addition, this book is a good introduction to the aesthetics of Oulipo, a group of writers who are underappreciated by the American audience.