For me, Nadja is only the second greatest book of the 20th century. Soupault's novel comes across the finish line a full length ahead, but for no discernible reason.

I've always admired this book, and it seems I go back to it almost every day, and try to peek into it. I first read it twenty years ago, and still don't feel that I know what it is about, and I don't think anybody else does either. The French criticism doesn't go into the obvious Spenglerian feeling of the title, nor does it go into detail concerning the strange murders and deaths that take place within a double love-story. As the Seine winds through Paris, so the narrator winds, with a strange and curious indifference as well as passion. This book details odd meetings with thieves, prostitutes, and the clock at the top of what is now the Musee d'Orsay (but was then a major train station). But why? The book is so strange, and yet so familiar, like walking in Paris at night, and yet more vividly observed than one would believe possible. Nothing happens in the book, and yet everything happens. This book is a freak that no one will ever understand. It just has to be experienced, like a dream that seems to have a mysterious cogency that one can never formulate into anything that can be logically understood.

-- Kirby Olson

Ce livre magistral de Soupault contient en effet tout son siècle. Publié la même annnée que Nadja de Breton (1928), il offre au surréalisme l'un de ses plus beaux textes chargé d'onirisme. La poésie urbaine s'accompagne d'une vision apocalyptique propre à Soupault et n'est pas surchargé de passages théoriques que l'on retrouve dans Nadja ou dans les textes de Breton en général. Traduit par William Carlos Williams, il garde toute sa force, toute sa vitalité notemment dans son rapport au monde et aux gens. Les personnages de la prostituée ou du bookmaker ne sont décrits ni avec complaisance ni avec sarcasmes : Soupault se contente de les faire vivre. Comme le narrateur, ces personnages puisent leur énergie dans les rues de Paris. Avec eux le lecteur renverse le vieux monde dans les formidables incendies qui ravagent les quartiers de Paris. C'est cette même énergie que l'on retrouvera l'année suivante dans le roman Le Nègre où Edgard Manning assassine dans une violence sexuelle une autre prostituée nommée Europe... Mais à ne lire les livres de soupault que dans la seule optique surréaliste, c'est passer à côté de la modernité de celui-ci. Dès le Bon Apôtre, et cela se confirme dans les romans ultérieurs, la narration joue tout son rôle et prend tout son sens. On a pu dire que ces romans préfigurent déjà les techniques qui deviendront à la mode avec le nouveau roman... Qui autre que W-C Williams aurait été plus à même de traduire ce texte essentiel mais passé depuis en france sous un silence que l'on aimerait croire admiratif ?

emmanuel

In terms of finding a wild, uninhibited introduction to the radical and mindspinning worlds of Breton and friends I can assure you that this is a challenging but rewarding read. However, take note that those who feel prose must have structure and communicate linear thought, please leave your textbook at the door. This is work that burrows deep into the subconcious and festers like a tick.

Un texte que je ne connais qu'en sa version française, mais capital pour la définition de l'attitude de Baudelaire(peut-être anti-romantique) et d'un ancien surréaliste qui réévalue l'importance de ses lectures de jeunesse (comme pour Musset). Cette relation entre romantisme - mal du siècle et surréalisme - nouveau mal du siècle (ou bien du siècle comme le dit René Crevel !) est loin d'être évidente et transparente.

This is the only book in English to offer a complete overview of Philippe Soupault's career. The price is ridiculous, and only affordable by the wealthy and graduate libraries, but you could order it for your local library. Aspley goes through every phase of Soupault's career and translates quite often from the French original. Soupault was the real surrealist, while Breton was the interloper, just as Trotsky was the real Marxist, while Stalin was the interloper.

Soupault is much more interesting, entertaining, enlightening, charming, fascinating, fun.

This book gives a very solid overview of his more than 80 books, and his extensive reportage in daily papers for more than sixty years.

With text in both French and English, "I'm Lying" is a clever, irreverent collection of poems by DaDa poet Philippe Soupault. I recommend this book to any fans of the writings of Andre Breton, Jean Cocteau, or Tristan Tzara. Although thin, this collection of poetry is packed with a classic DaDa style of "automatic" writing, that can either leave one confused (perhaps his goal), or laughing aloud.

If you are at all interested in the DaDa art movement of the early 1900's, this book is an excellent choice. Better than an impersonal biography of the DaDa-ists, this book gives an intimate look at what the writers were doing, and is an interesting way to explore more of that period in history.