The Confession of a False Soul

by Ilarie Voronca, Sue Boswell (Translation), Brendan Connell (Introduction)

Originally published in 1942, and here presented for the first time in English, expertly translated from the French by Sue Boswell, The Confession of a False Soul is one of avant-garde Romanian author Ilarie Voronca's most brilliant works of fiction. Telling the story of a young man who has a specialist replace his damaged soul with that of a soldier who has died in the war, this short surreal novel, at once haunting and beautiful, carries with it a powerful charm normally restricted to dreams. Written in a spare narrative style rich in poetic force and symbolism, The Confession of a False Soul transports the reader to a place between reality and illusion where love alone might be the only thing that is real.

98 pages, Paperback

First published May 5, 1942

About the author

Ilarie Voronca was one of the leaders of the Romanian avant-garde, initially a pioneer of Romanian Constructivism (known as Integralism), further on a fine poet in the vein of Surrealism and, especially in his period at Paris, Walt Whitman. Has influenced numerous poets during his life and after - most notably the poets gathered around the circles "Integral" (which he lead) and "unu" and the poets of the 1980s generation.

Reviews

[☆ piupiu ☆ · Rating 4 out of 5]

described as a novel of searching and of love, but i think it also has things to say about capitalism and how we use others. it is quiet depressing beautiful magical, all in 90 pages. the profoundness can be staring right at you or sneaks up on you while you're reading or after you've put it down.

i can't believe more people haven't read this (on gr at least), please do

"Only the children I met in the parks seemed happy. For their souls were neither clogged nor replaced with false ones. but for how long will they be that way?"

"How I would have liked those moments to stretch out. I loved that peaceful life, this house where solitude's mournful breath could not penetrate. Why did I have to struggle with desires and sorrows, constantly mindful of my pain, of the world's pain? A table with relatives and friends gathered around it, a healthy and simple meal resonating like the chimes of a bow with the spirit of a country, what more could I wish for? [...] Here, I joined in and broke with the others the white bread of laughter. But why was I just a passer-by?"

"Moreover, is not the sea a giant piano? [...] The wonderful young woman must give some magnificent concerts down there."

[Benino · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Confession of a False Soul

Ilarie Voronca's bright yet sinister novella from 1942 plays with different genres, and finds it's place among similar short stories by Gogol, Zamyatin, Bulgakov, or Nabokov. Through this slender text, Ilarie Voronca (1903-1946), Romanian-Jewish émigré writing in French, shows a flare for enstrangement in the everyday.

Part dark fable, part comic tale, almost sci-fi tragedy but with a twist of romance,
it plays with the weird to lambast the heartless and classist government officialdom, and its exploitation of a young generation of soldiers in war.

Our protagonist, a nameless local bureaucrat, has his worn-out soul removed in his local clinic, as if it was a rotten tooth. Another patient advises him he can get a fresh new one implanted, there being a glut in supply with excellent specimens being harvested from young soldiers fallen in the war.

However, will his new heroic soul be a good fit for this white-collar worker? Or will it lead to unexpected metaphysical consequences? And what sort of diabolical figure twists people to believe their own souls are inadequate?

Voronca delivers a light touch to have comic yet cutting critique of gentle and implicit structural violence, hidden in mannerisms and charm, whilst losing grip on reality as if in a dream sequence.

Will you confess, fraud? Are you, too, the owner of a false soul?

[Maryam Alhamer · Rating 4 out of 5]

A surrealist novel published in 1942 in the midst of WWII by Romanian avant-garde author, Ilarie Voronca. The original is in French; this is the first english translation in print.
The writing is simple, but the novel is quite philosophical.
It’s about a man who seeks to escape himself, so he decides to undergo a soul implantation surgery. The soul he is given belonged to a young man who prematurely died on the battlefield.

[Rami Hamze · Rating 4 out of 5]

In times of war when there was a constant threat of peace, the protagonist decides to replace his damaged soul. The surgeon/ soul-remover finds him a new soul that belonged to a dead young soldier.

'I felt ashamed when a young lady said: how could i not love you when you have such a beautiful soul.'

'Only the children I met in the parks seemed happy. For their souls were neither clogged nor replaced with false ones. but for how long will they be that way?'

[Zimmi · Rating 4 out of 5]

8/10

Ho letto la traduzione della Abbot a cura di Marta Piras.

Il racconto è surreale, ma con una delicatezza del contenuto e della forma da rendere la lettura morbida, nonostante il tema impegnativo.

A lettura fresca, non ho un'idea definita, bensì una percezione: l'ho sentito come un elogio al candore, alla semplicità e genuinità, anche nelle sue forme più brutte. Al contempo, mi pare ci sia una punta melanconica di fondo, non disperata, ma sconsolata.

[Ahmed Rashwan · Rating 3 out of 5]

I don't know where to start with this review. Especially that I haven't written one in a while and it certainly did not help that I still haven't recovered from the confusion of reading this novella.

This is not to say that Ilarie Voronca is not a good writer, he is; in fact, if someone were to ask me for a good introduction into the world of surrealism, I would probably recommend this book. I think it is more that my expectations as a reader has changed. Yes, excellent literary prowess has always been in the forefront of what I enjoy, but I and I am no longer at a point where I can enjoy being just as confused exiting a story as I was entering it

So great writing, if you're a fan of Bulgakov's Master and Margarita, yes. If your life is already complicated, no.