{"id":78985,"date":"2014-11-03T17:37:06","date_gmt":"2014-11-03T22:37:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=78985"},"modified":"2014-11-03T17:48:44","modified_gmt":"2014-11-03T22:48:44","slug":"in-which-andre-malraux-kills-death","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/11\/03\/in-which-andre-malraux-kills-death\/","title":{"rendered":"In Which Andr\u00e9 Malraux Kills Death"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"attachment_78989\" style=\"width: 610px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/kb2765_c27_03_u.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-78989\" class=\"wp-image-78989\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/kb2765_c27_03_u.jpg\" alt=\"kb2765_c27_03_u\" width=\"600\" height=\"724\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/kb2765_c27_03_u.jpg 663w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/kb2765_c27_03_u-248x300.jpg 248w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-78989\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">An engraving by Fernand L\u00e9ger.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>Andr\u00e9 Malraux was born today in 1901, and his first novel, <em>Paper Moons<\/em> (<em>Lunes en papier<\/em>), was published when he was only twenty. If that provokes pangs of jealousy, bear in mind that the print run was limited to 112 copies. The National Library of the Netherlands has <a href=\"http:\/\/www.kb.nl\/en\/web-exhibitions\/koopman-collection\/contents\/1919-1925\/lunes-en-papier\" target=\"_blank\">a terrific post about the first edition<\/a>, which was published by \u00c9ditions de la Galerie Simon, one of the most forward-thinking publishers of its day.<\/p>\n<p>As that small print-run indicates, Simon wasn\u2019t a major operation. Malraux\u2019s publisher, Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler, had a shrewd and prescient eye for writers and artists. He was also an art dealer, one of the first to find merit in the work of the Cubists, who were largely written off as pretentious pranksters at the time. As a publisher, he sought work that \u201caccomplished in words what the Cubists did with paint\u201d; accordingly, he published early work by Apollinaire, Max Jacob, Raymond Radiguet, Pierre Reverdy, and Antonin Artaud, among others, often with artwork from his friends. In the case of <em>Lunes en papier<\/em> he called on Fernand L\u00e9ger to contribute several wood engravings. This was not, it must be said, a popular or canny decision at the time:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p>L\u00e9ger [had] caused a sensation at the Salon des Ind\u00e9pendants in 1911 with his <em>Nude in the Woods<\/em> (<em>Nus dans la for\u00eat<\/em>). Kahnweiler was immediately intrigued and attempted to contact its creator, who had previously made a living as a draughtsman for an architectural firm. L\u00e9ger was mockingly called \u201ctubiste\u201d because of his tube-like presentations: he felt isolated and unappreciated.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>As for the novel itself:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p><em>Lunes en papier<\/em> continually subverts the reader\u2019s expectations, starting with the cryptic subtitle and the warning in the front of the book: \u201cThere is nothing symbolical in this book.\u201d The three stories are absurdist in nature, with strange plot turns and metaphors, airy, sometimes humorous in tone, while still dealing with seemingly serious matters, and ending with the death of Death \u2026 Malraux would later qualify his first effort as a \u201cgloire de caf\u00e9.\u201d But it suited the Surrealist and Dadaist ideas of its time extremely well.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>There\u2019s a <a href=\"http:\/\/www.cipherjournal.com\/html\/keckler_malraux.html\" target=\"_blank\">translated excerpt from <em>Cipher Journal<\/em><\/a> that includes the bit where Death dies. More specifically, Death\u2014a woman in a dinner jacket that makes her look like an insect\u2014receives a visit from a dubious physician, who informs her that she may be going bald. He prepares her a bath of nitric acid. She slides on in and begins to corrode; by the time her servant intervenes, it\u2019s too late, and Death has resigned herself to dying. <!--more--><\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p>\u201cDear friend, I\u2019ve had enough. The world (it\u2019s useless to stand there gaping\u2014I\u2019ll soon be dead) the world is only tolerable to us because of our habit of tolerating it. They inflict this tolerance on us when we\u2019re still too young to resist, and then \u2026 do you see what I mean? If we can suppress the habit of\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI don\u2019t understand \u2026\u2009\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell, it\u2019s not hard to figure out! Let\u2019s say your friends are eggcups, for example. Can\u2019t you see them handing out, at random, the title of God of the Eggcups, and confiding to him their eggcup desires? Can\u2019t you imagine the female eggcups saying with a smirk \u2018The balance and harmony of the female eggcup is clearly superior to that of the male eggcup\u2019? My god, just look at them all! I\u2019ve had enough of the whole game, I tell you, enough! I\u2019m ill and you\u2019re trying to pick a fight with me\u2014well I\u2019m taking my umbrella and leaving. My departure will be a great practical joke. They call me Death but you know perfectly well that I\u2019m only Chance. Slow decay is just one of my disguises. But, now, where\u2019s she gone? Rifloire! Rilfoire! She took off! The slut! Whore! Well \u2026 finally! I\u2019ve been a torment to her, and now that I\u2019m going to die she won\u2019t be able to even take revenge upon me. Oh, let\u2019s get it over with!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>And she lit a cigarette. A sinuosity of smoke rose like a delicate, wispy girl floating on the air, and Death tried to imagine all sorts of pornographic shapes, tried to will them into movements that would correspond to the swaying of the thread of smoke.<\/p>\n<p>And not a single cushion stirred.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/kb2765_c27_04_u.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter wp-image-78987\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/kb2765_c27_04_u.jpg\" alt=\"kb2765_c27_04_u\" width=\"600\" height=\"708\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/kb2765_c27_04_u.jpg 655w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/kb2765_c27_04_u-254x300.jpg 254w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Andr\u00e9 Malraux was born today in 1901, and his first novel, Paper Moons (Lunes en papier), was published when he was only twenty. If that provokes pangs of jealousy, bear in mind that the print run was limited to 112 copies. The National Library of the Netherlands has a terrific post about the first edition, [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":38,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[489],"tags":[10056,15904,15900,15903,11086,2186,9761,15902,865,4524,15901,7318,15905],"class_list":["post-78985","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books-2","tag-1920s","tag-absurdism","tag-andre-malraux","tag-cipher-journal","tag-cubism","tag-death","tag-engravings","tag-fernand-leger","tag-france","tag-modernism","tag-paper-moons","tag-surrealism","tag-the-twenties"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>In Which Andr\u00e9 Malraux Kills Death<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Andr\u00e9 Malraux was born today in 1901. 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