Staff Pick
Never Any End to Paris (
París no se acaba nunca) is a fictionalized autobiographical work by the great Spanish novelist, Enrique Vila-Matas. Only the third of his books to be translated into English (of nearly two dozen), this one recounts the author's youthful days in Paris during the mid 1970s. It was during this time, while renting an attic room from French writer and director, Marguerite Duras, that Vila-Matas set about working on his second novel,
La asesina ilustrada (never translated into English, yet appearing in this work as
The Lettered Assassin).
In
Never Any End to Paris, the narrator (always striving to bear an ever closer resemblance to Ernest Hemingway) recalls his formative days in the French capital over the course of a three-day lecture. Taking as its title a derivation on the name of the last chapter of Hemingway's
A Moveable Feast,
Never Any End to Paris is set some half a century after Papa himself sauntered around the City of Light. Vila-Matas delves as much into the hardships he (or rather, his fictionalized narrator/lecturer) endured as an undisciplined and unsure writer seeking literary immortality as he does into the milieu of 1970s Paris. With an overarching metafictional theme, an abundance of name-dropping, an obvious respect for the art of literature, and the blurring of the line between autobiography and fiction, Vila-Matas's book brings to mind the works of his close friend and fellow (adopted) countryman, Roberto Bolaño.
While broad in scope, much of the narrator's lecture, in addition to recalling the hardships of crafting the novel, the ongoing poverty that accompanied his writing of it, and the wealth of his social engagements with Paris's creative elite, sets about considering the nature of irony (both in general and as it relates to the telling of his tale).
You'll see me improvise on occasion. Like right now when, before going on to read my ironic revision of the two years of my youth in Paris, I feel compelled to tell you that I do know that irony plays with fire and, while mocking others, sometimes ends up mocking itself. You all know full well what I'm talking about. When you pretend to be in love you run the risk of feeling it, he who parodies without proper precautions ends up a victim just the same... That said, I must also warn you that when you hear me say, for example, that there was never any end to Paris, I will most likely be saying it ironically. But, anyway, I hope not to overwhelm you with too much irony. The kind that I practice has nothing to do with that which arises from desperation- I was stupidly desperate enough when I was young. i like a kind of irony I call benevolent, compassionate, like what we find, for example, in the best of Cervantes. I don't like ferocious irony but rather the kind that vacillates between disappointment and hope. Okay?
As the lecturer remembers his deliberation about how best to craft a novel (
The Lettered Assassin) that will cause its readers to die immediately following their reading of it, the irony of writing what could be a successful book only to be left with no one living to admire it is not lost on him.
Like Vila-Matas's other works (or, at least those already translated into English),
Never Any End to Paris is a smart, creative, and playful work, one that never deigns to take itself too seriously. It is as much a quasi-autobiography as it is a celebration of literature, film, Paris, irony, and the folly and determination of youth. If only
La asesina ilustrada were already available in translation, then perhaps this book would resound with an even greater clarity than it already does. On its own, however,
Never Any End to Paris* is a fantastic book, one that surely bolsters Enrique Vila-Matas's reputation as one of the finer Spanish-language novelists at work today.
Among the many fictions possible, an autobiography can also be a fiction.
*translated by Anne McLean, known for her English translations of Julio Cortázar, Evelio Rosero, Javier Cercas, and others.
Recommended By Jeremy G., Powells.com
Synopses & Reviews
This brilliantly ironic novel about literature and writing, in Vila-Matas's trademark witty and erudite style, is told in the form of a lecture delivered by a novelist clearly a version of the author himself. The "lecturer" tells of his two-year stint living in Marguerite Duras's garret during the seventies, spending time with writers, intellectuals, and eccentrics, and trying to make it as a creator of literature: "I went to Paris and was very poor and very unhappy." Encountering such luminaries as Duras, Roland Barthes, Georges Perec, Sergio Pitol, Samuel Beckett, and Juan Marsé, our narrator embarks on a novel whose text will "kill" its readers and put him on a footing with his beloved Hemingway. (s takes its title from a refrain in .) What emerges is a fabulous portrait of intellectual life in Paris that, with humor and penetrating insight, investigates the role of literature in our lives.
Review
Mr. Vila-Matas shows that the reasons for (and the consequences of) not writing fiction can, in a funny way, be almost as rich and complicated as fiction itself.Vila-Matas’s touch is light and whimsical, while his allusions encompass a rogue’s gallery of world literature.I’m reading Vila-Matas’s book like a novel, a very good novel in which the narrator gives us exhaustive information about the protagonist who happens to be himself. I don’t know him personally, nor am I planning to meet him, I prefer to read him and let his literature pervade me. --Pedro Almodóvar
Synopsis
A splendid ironic portrayal of literary Paris and of a young writer's struggles by one of Spain's most eminent authors.
About the Author
Enrique Vila-Matas was born in Barcelona in 1948. His novels have been translated into eleven languages and honored by many prestigious literary awards including the Prix Médicis Etranger. Author of Bartleby & Co., Montano's Malady, and Never Any End to Paris, he has received Europe's most prestigious awards and been translated into twenty-seven languages.Anne McLean has won the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize twice, as well as the Premio Valle Inclán. She has translated the works of Javier Cercas, Julio Cortázar, Carmen Martín Gaite, Ignacio Padilla, and Evelio Rosero.