Exercises in Style

by Raymond Queneau, Barbara Wright (Translator)

A new edition of a French modernist classic - a Parisian scene told ninety-nine different ways - with new material written in homage by the likes of Jonathan Lethem, Rivka Galchen, and many more.

On a crowded bus at midday, Raymond Queneau observes one man accusing another of jostling him deliberately. When a seat is vacated, the first man appropriates it. Later, in another part of town, Queneau sees the man being advised by a friend to sew a new button on his overcoat.

Exercises in Style — Queneau’s experimental masterpiece and a hallmark book of the Oulipo literary group — retells this unexceptional tale ninety-nine times, employing the sonnet and the alexandrine, onomatopoeia and Cockney. An “Abusive” chapter heartily deplores the events; “Opera English” lends them grandeur. Queneau once said that of all his books, this was the one he most wished to see translated. He offered Barbara Wright his “heartiest congratulations,” adding: “I have always thought that nothing is untranslatable.Here is new proof.”

To celebrate the 65th anniversary of the 1947 French publication of Exercises de Style, New Directions has asked several writers to contribute new exercises as a tribute. Tantalizing examples include Jonathan Lethem’s “Cyberpunk,” Harry Mathew’s “Phonetic Eros,” and Frederic Tuten’s “Beatnik” exercises. This edition also retains Barbara Wright’s original introduction and reminiscence of working on this book — a translation that in 2008 was ranked first on the Author’s Society’s list of “The 50 Outstanding Translations of the Last 50 Years.”

Genres: Fiction, France, Short Stories, Writing, Classics, French Literature, Literature

228 pages, Kindle Edition

First published April 28, 1947

About the author

Novelist, poet, and critic Raymond Queneau, was born in Le Havre in 1903, and went to Paris when he was 17. For some time he joined André Breton's Surrealist group, but after only a brief stint he dissociated himself. Now, seeing Queneau's work in retrospect, it seems inevitable. The Surrealists tried to achieve a sort of pure expression from the unconscious, without mediation of the author's self-aware "persona." Queneau's texts, on the contrary, are quite deliberate products of the author's conscious mind, of his memory, and his intentionality.

Although Queneau's novels give an impression of enormous spontaneity, they were in fact painstakingly conceived in every small detail. He even once remarked that he simply could not leave to hazard the task of determining the number of chapters of a book. Talking about his first novel, Le Chiendent (usually translated as The Bark Tree), he pointed out that it had 91 sections, because 91 was the sum of the first 13 numbers, and also the product of two numbers he was particularly fond of: 7 and 13.

Reviews

[Manny · Rating 5 out of 5]

Meta

From what point of view should I review the book? Evidently: from all possible points of view.

Snobbish

Needless to say, I am reading the original French edition. I can hardly believe that his delicate linguistic irony would survive translation into English. Quelle horreur!

Vulgar

I laughed until I wet myself. Well, I should know better than to read this kind of book in the bathroom.

Pedantic

If nothing else, very educational. I have already learned the names of two figures of speech I didn't previously know.

Anxious

Wait... maybe someone else has already done this joke? Let me check the reviews. Oh, thank GoodReads, they haven't!

Pessimistic

The idea is certainly amusing at first. But I doubt he'll be able to keep it up for 99 different versions.

Grudging

Alright... this isn't as easy as one first thinks. I'm not even up to double figures, and I'm already running out of ideas. He was a smart guy.

Minimalist

Unique.

Conscience-stricken

I'm doing this? I should be working! But he is quite inspiring.

Practical

I will put the book on the coffee table, and read a couple of pages every now and then. I don't think you're meant to go cover-to-cover. Also, living in Cambridge as we do, I am sure that at least half our visitors will enjoy leafing through it.

[Vit Babenco · Rating 5 out of 5]

What story can be told about a brief bus ride and a button?
This insignificant and infinitesimal event can be turned into a surreal vision:

In the centre of the day, tossed among the shoal of travelling sardines in a coleopter with a big white carapace, a chicken with a long, feather-less neck suddenly harangued one, a peace-abiding one, of their number, and its parlance, moist with protest, was unfolded upon the airs. Then, attracted by a void, the fledgling precipitated itself thereunto.
In a bleak, urban desert, I saw it again that selfsame day, drinking the cup of humiliation offered by a lowly button.

And it can be turned into a philosophical thesis:

Great cities alone can provide phenomenological spirituality with the essentialities of temporal and improbabilistic coincidences. The philosopher who occasionally ascends into the futile and utilitarian inexistentiality of an S bus can perceive therein with the lucidity of his pineal eye the transitory and faded appearance of a profane consciousness afflicted by the long neck of vanity and the hatly plait of ignorance. This matter, void of true entelechy, occasionally plunges into the categorical imperative of its recriminatory life force against the neo-Berkleyan unreality of a corporeal mechanism unburdened by conscience. This moral attitude then carries the more unconscious of the two towards a void spatiality where it disintegrates into its primary and crooked elements.
Philosophical research is then pursued normally by the fortuitous but anagogic encounter of the same being accompanied by its inessential and sartorial replica, which is noumenally advising it to transpose on the level of the understanding the concept of overcoat button situated sociologically too low.

And also it may be turned into so many other smart things…
The skill and style can turn any negligible trifle into a masterpiece.
In literature there are no bad themes, there are bad writers.

[Orsodimondo · Rating 5 out of 5]

LE VARIAZIONI QUENEAU


Nel 1996 quattordici registi italiani furono coinvolti in un progetto temerario e sciagurato ampiamente ispirato al libro di Queneau: stesso titolo e stesso principio, cioè partire da una situazione narrativa riassunta in poche frasi, sviluppata poi in quattrodici generi cinematografici diversi. Nella foto si vede il regista di un episodio (secondo me il migliore), Mario Monicelli, con i due protagonisti di ogni segmento, Elena Sofia Ricci e Massimo Wertmüller. Le immagini che seguono sono tutte tratte dal film.

Queneau amava la matematica, amava i numeri.
Immagino amasse anche l’enigmistica.
E sicuramente amava il gioco, lo scherzo.

Non è difficile trovare queste sue passioni in questo librino meraviglioso, divertente, a tratti esilarante (uscito nel 1947).



Che nell’edizione in mio possesso è arricchito da una ghiotta prefazione del traduttore, nientepopodimeno che Umberto Eco in persona, traduttore fedele ma non letterale, traduttore inventore:
Diciamo che Queneau ha inventato un gioco e ne ha esplicitato le regole nel corso di una partita, splendidamente giocata nel 1947. Fedeltà significava capire le regole del gioco, rispettarle, r e poi giocare una nuova partita con lo stesso numero di mosse.



Partendo da una “notazione” che riporto qui sotto, Queneau costruisce novantotto variazioni della stessa, per ciascuna usando una diversa figura retorica (l’esercizio di stile indicato dal titolo).
Ma non solo figure retoriche (e non tutte le figure retoriche che esistono, altrimenti gli esercizi sarebbero più numerosi): la parodia abbraccia anche alcuni generi letterari e alcuni comportamenti linguistici quotidiani.



Ecco la base di partenza, riportata alla lettera:
Sulla S., in un’ora di traffico. Un tipo di circa ventisei anni, cappello floscio con una cordicella al posto del nastro, collo troppo lungo, come se glielo avessero tirato. La gente scende. Il tizio in questione si arrabbia con un vicino. Gli rimprovera di spingerlo ogni volta che passa qualcuno. Tono lamentoso, con pretese di cattiveria. Non appena vede un posto libero, vi si butta. Due ore più tardi lo incontro alla Cour de Rome, davanti alla Gare Saint-Lazare. È con un amico che gli dice: “Dovresti far mettere un bottone in più al soprabito”. Gli fa vedere dove (alla sciancratura) e perché.



Ma il gioco di Queneau non è così rigorosamente meccanico, non prende la retorica del tutto sul serio, procede con nonchalance, senz’ordine, seguendo l’estro, di cui certo non difettava.
Epperò, pur seguendo regole stabilite, RQ mostra e dimostra quanto si possa giocare con le parole.
Se le si conoscono.

E ora, per restare in tema, vado ad ascoltare la Variazioni Goldberg di Bach.


Foto di Angelo Turetta.

[Steven Godin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Whenever I sit in a Café with an espresso and a croissant, I sometimes like to think that Georges Perec once sat exactly where I am sitting. Whenever on the Métro, I am somehow reminded of Luc Besson's 1985 film Subway. Whenever I climb into a taxi, it's just in the hope that the driver isn't some knife wielding maniac. The next time I happen to hop onto a bus, then there is every chance, Exercises in Style will immediately come to mind. Not 99 times though, just the once. Briefly tied in with the French Surrealist movement before breaking away, Raymond Queneau presents an incident on a bus between two passengers, where one accuses the other of stepping on his toes. After an exchange of words, the young man moves to another seat. Then later that same day, he is seen standing at a train station, where a friend is advising him to adjust one of the buttons on his overcoat.

And that's pretty much it.

Literally nothing else happens.

And by the end of the first page you have learned everything you are going to know about the events on which the book focuses.

But what follows, is the same incident played over and over and over again. Ninety-nine times to be exact. In different ways, told in different voices, different styles, and different points of view. It's like being trapped by a comic peerless prankster writing and rewriting and rewriting. But here's the thing - it was such a joy to read!. The laughably and ingeniously simple premise results in one of twentieth century fiction's best show-off acts. Each section has a utilitarian title - Hesitation, precision, Ignorance, Insistence, Awkward, Reactionary, to name a few. The core story could even have been something Queneau himself witnessed, and wrote about it simply because essentially it's of little or no importance. But it's a random anecdote that holds many ideas behind it. What's great is Queneau actually manages to transcend his own absurd restrictions by remaining punctiliously within each piece, at all times. The book somehow, and I don't know how, contrives to feel kind of profound even though it appears at first to be pointless.

One is left thinking by the end, of the endless possibilities that any simple story could be told. Exercises in Style has an effect on the reader that really opens the mind. It illuminates the reality of multiple perspectives from which everything can be viewed. The best way to read this (I found it helped anyway) is in as little time as possible, otherwise it's pleasures start to thin out. It went down a treat for me accompanied by a few beers!.

[Geoff · Rating 5 out of 5]

Only one book has ever “changed my life” (god, if only things were so simple that a book could change your life!) and that is Joyce’s Ulysses, and that only in terms of my ideas of dedication and rigor. It certainly didn’t unearth profound aspects of my personality that until that point were latent, it didn’t give me any guiding path in life to tread, it didn’t suddenly instill value into things that I before considered to be without value. What it primarily did was to show me the results of dedication- not only on Joyce’s part, but on my part- that is, that if I dedicated myself to reading and rereading and understanding this at first baffling text, that the reward would be a thousand times the effort I put into it. That Joyce was kind enough, generous enough, to create a work so complex, that resonates on so many levels and in so many poetic and humorous and satiric and intellectual and dramatic tones; and most of all, best of all, that he demands that his reader work a fraction as hard as he did. Because he knew that what he possessed inside himself, if expressed correctly, was capable of bringing a shimmer of aesthetic recognition across the imagination unlike anything that had come before or after. There really is only literature before- and after-Joyce, no matter your opinions on Ulysses itself. It is the Theory of Relativity for the arts. It destroyed and absorbed everything that came before it and influenced everything that came after.

From what I know of Queneau’s life, it too was changed by Ulysses. (He considered it a “magical act”). His reckoning with Joyce came after his graduation from the Sorbonne with a degree in philosophy and mathematics, where one of his great influences was Hegel. Now, I don’t know much about Hegel’s Absolute Idealism but I do know that it was a somewhat optimistic view of how the mind comes into contact with nature, and that philosophical problems are brought to resolution by integrating contradictions into our practices, rather than eliminating them or seeking to answer things by some ultimate “conclusion”. In other words, a dialogue rather than a “solve-all” was at the heart of our thinking and perception. An obvious aspect of this is that nature and our participation in it are all part of an extremely lengthy (some might say “infinite” (I won’t)) process. The particulars of the universe are always coming into being by a process through which they are in a contradictory communication with what they relate to, come into contact with. I assure you all this babble is leading to something. I hope. What I’m attempting to say is that Ulysses represents the expression of an absorption and assimilation of all the facets of the history of literature, and with Ulysses the history of literature ends. That is to say it necessarily begins anew. This is not a review of Ulysses, and this won’t go on much longer, I promise.

So what does an extremely intelligent human being interested in writing literature after the reckoning with Joyce do? Joyce himself had no recourse but, after annihilating the novel, to annihilate language itself (that is, create it anew) with Finnegans Wake. But what do the rest of us do? We look at literature with new eyes, we look for where it can go now. I think that is exactly the point Queneau was making with Exercises In Style. It attempts an observation and notation of what exactly language can do with fiction post-Joyce. (Beckett did this too. Many people did this, are doing this. This is what postmodernism is all about, coming to terms with Joyce). However, in contrast to Beckett, Queneau's profundities are always masked in the language of the quotidian, the everyday, the comedic, the banal. An utterly banal scene is recounted 99 times, in 99 styles. In these 99 recitations of the same scene we begin finally to focus on the medium and not the message, or the Hegelian contradiction or dialogue between the medium and the message (or lack of message). In some ways, the really revolutionary aspect of Exercises In Style is that it is so not revolutionary- it retells a scene that any of us might observe on any given day- but that it poses questions about the fundamentals of our reading experience, and therefore our living experience.

[Fionnuala]

This is a lot of fun at the beginning as you realise exactly what Queneau has challenged himself to do here: rewrite the same little scene about a gangly young man in a badly fitting overcoat and an odd hat, in different styles, ninety-nine times! After number twenty however, the various word play games are no longer quite as funny. After number forty, you’re pretty sceptical about Queneau's mental health. By number sixty, you’re seriously worried about your own. By number eighty, you’re seeing that gangly young man everywhere you go. You skip to ninety-nine in a desperate attempt to save your sanity but no, it is not to be, the last line is more maddening than anything that went before: you are left wondering who Theodore is and why Albert didn’t recognise him when Theodore was advising the gangly young man in the odd hat how to alter his badly fitting overcoat in front of the Gare St Lazare? But wait, is that little overcoat scene the primary, the ultimate ‘exercise de style’? That would be a fine play on words indeed!

[Glenn Russell]

One very effective way I have found to squeeze the juice of wisdom from the books I read is to write a book review, which forces me to formulate my ideas and opinions in precise and clear (at least that is my intent) language.

However with Raymond Queneau's Exercises in Style we have a book that contains not only wisdom but many flavors of linguistic magic. Thus, I need to do more than simply write a book review. I found the solution: I read Barbara Wright's translation aloud, recording my voice on a digital recorder, and then listen while taking my walks.

Each of the 99 variations of this short tale of a young man with his long neck and felt hat is worth reading and listening to multiple times; matter of fact, it would be an aesthetic injustice to read through this novel once or twice and put it down, thinking you finished the book and did the author justice. No, no, no - that would be anti-Queneau!

Should I attempt to be linguistically clever, verbally crafty, syntactically cunning, offering astute wordplay, adroit repartee or ingenious punning? I should not and I will not. I will simply say how Queneau's novel is a one-of-a-kind adventure into language and the ways language can be used to tell a story. And, oh, lest I forget - the chapter heading are complete with fanciful, cartoonish illustrations of humans posing as the beginning letters of words, making the entire work that much more charming and piquant. Thank you Stefan Themerson for your artwork and thank you New Directions for your publishing creativity.

Barbara Wright does the English translation. And what a translation! A work of art in its own right (no pun intended). Barbara Wright's first career was that of a pianist and she found translating and playing piano have a great deal in common. She noted how both require an ability to, as she says in her own words, "present artistic works to an audience in a manner acceptable and satisfying to the composer or writer and honest in their interpretation."

As by way of example, here is the first line of the chapter entitled `Parechesis'. We read, "On the butt-end of a bulging bus which was transbustling an abundance of incubuses and Buchmanites from bumbledom towards their bungalows, a bumptious buckeen whose buttocks were remote from his bust and who was buttired in a boody ridiculous busby, buddenly had a bust-up with a robust buckra who was bumping into him: "Buccaneer, buzz off, you're butting my bunions!" Now such a beautiful boutique of buzzes baffles the brain . . . - well, you get the idea; I will stop there so as not to get carried away and bore.

Now that I put the finishing touches on my review, I bid you ado as I am off to the park, digital recorder in hand, poised to listen to Exercises In Style, and by so listening to float up into an ocean of linguistic light and aesthetic bliss. Tally-ho with Raymond Queneau.


French author Raymond Queneau, 1903-1976

[Nickolas B. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Το βιβλίο αυτό ήταν σκέτη απόλαυση!

************************

- Οτ λιβλιο ταυτό νατη τέσκη λαυπόαση
- Το βιβλίο ναούμ, ήταν σκέτη ναουμ απόλαυση ναούμ...
- Το αντικείμενο με το σκληρό εξώφυλλο και τα φύλλα με γράμματα προκάλεσε τέρψη οφθαλμών και σκέψης...

Κάπως έτσι λοιπόν ο συγγραφέας παραλλάσει την ιστορία ενός νεαρού σε ένα λεωφορείο και δημιουργεί 99 διαφορετικού τύπου ιστορίες, οι οποίες είναι απολαυστικές και αναδεικνύουν το μεγαλείο της γλώσσας και της συγγραφής!!!

4/5 αστεράκια. Το διάβασα απνευστί με ένα μόνιμο χαμόγελο!!!

ΥΓ: Πολύ καλή η δουλειά του μεταφραστή....

[Scribble Orca · Rating 5 out of 5]

UPDATE: Queneau's Exercises in Style is given the Geoff Wilt treatment in Verbivoracious Festschrift Volume Three: The Syllabus.

-- Who the fuck writes the same thing 99 times over? Pretentious twit! Don't bother.

-- A masterpiece of style, grammar, innovation, elegance, a tour de force of wizardry, erudition, humour and social commentary. Chapeau M'sieur Queneau.

-- I didn't really get the headings. Were those meant to be chapters?

-- Mate, don't be late, address the great and adumbrate, there'll be a spate, the rules conflate, all congregate and share the plate.

-- Wright achieves that rare symbiosis between writer and translator, extending original material into witty, heady realms of delightful invention [Societe pour Les Jeux de Maux]

-- You are reading this review and wondering when it will all, surely, end?

-- ayiay maay oingay otay aysay ayiay eallyray njoyedeay tiay eryvay uchmay, othbay rightWay ndaay ueneauQay reaay rilliantbay - eezjay ddingaay yaay otay vereay ordway reaksbay ymay ittlelay indmay.

-- Personally, I have no idea why anybody would want to read the same story 99 times over, let alone write it. Must have nothing better to do with herhis life. *Sniff*. Not like some of us.

-- Oh, Queneau. But you know, writers have this metathing going on these days, you know. Just have to show their practice forms, you know, can't be satisfied with just writing a book, oh no, they have to show their working, you know. We used to do that in school. For maths, you know.

-- Book. Words. Repeated. Character. Same. Scene. No change. Conclusion? Run the logic past again, will you?

-- This book has no plot and no characters.

-- There were a number of reviews written about a book called Exercises in Style which was actually an exercise in style about another book called Exercices de Style which was about a not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) on a bus (in Paris) apparently arguing with an older man on a bus (in Paris) because the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) on the bus (in Paris) thought that the older man on the bus (in Paris) was treading on the not-yet middle-aged toes of the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) on the bus (in Paris) and later the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris) met a friend dressed similarly who apparently was telling the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris) that the button on the coat of the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris) was placed too low on the coat of the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris) and needed to be placed higher on the coat of the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris) and these other reviews seemed to suggest that there were as many views regarding this book about a not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) on a bus (in Paris) apparently arguing with an older man on a bus (in Paris) because the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) on the bus thought that the older man on the bus (in Paris) was treading on the not-yet middle-aged toes of the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) on a bus (in Paris) and later the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris) met a friend dressed similarly who apparently was telling the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris) that the button on the coat of the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris) was placed too low on the coat of the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris) and needed to be placed higher on the coat of the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris) as there were variations on the theme about a not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) on a bus (in Paris) apparently arguing with an older man on a bus (in Paris) because the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) on the bus (in Paris) thought that the older man on the bus (in Paris) was treading on the not-yet middle-aged toes of the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) on the bus (in Paris) and later the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris) met a friend dressed similarly who apparently was telling the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris) that the button on the coat of the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris) was placed too low on the coat of the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris) and needed to be placed higher on the coat of the not-yet middle-aged man with a long neck and a hat (with a string and not a ribbon) no longer on the bus (in Paris).

-- Zis eez reelly going tu-tu far wiz ze pharrow dayee. Ayee ate it, zis eez tripe.

[Ian "Marvin" Graye · Rating 4 out of 5]

Blurb

“Exercises in Style” retells an apparently unremarkable tale ninety-nine times, employing a variety of styles, ranging from sonnet to cockney to mathematical formula. Too funny to be merely a pedantic thesis, this virtuoso set of themes and variations is a linguistic rust-remover, a guide to literary forms and a demonstration of imagery and inventiveness.

MJ Nicholls

I finally located my copy of this ingenuous little number in my attic and read it through again. I think my favourite mode has to be ‘HTML,’ where the narrator links to other computers in the world around him while telling the bus altercation story. I pursued some of these links, before getting lost and deciding that I had to retrace my steps, using a history file that my PC had compiled. It was funnier the third time around, oddly. I doubt whether I would even (get it? Even, not odd?) find it funny at all the fourth time around, but nothing ever is, sadly. I looked up some of the more specific verse forms that escaped me on the first two reads and, oddly, smiled even more knowingly than the first and second times. (A more knowing smile involves greater purchase on the lips of one's target or oneself). It fascinated me that there were things that I missed on my first two reads and that I would now tell you about them in my review. Perhaps, friends will appreciate that someone of my über-talent can be human after all.

Erik

I enrolled at Loyola University Chicago, intending, I thought, to wrap up a Ph.D. in short order. It dawned on me in college that I should do some subsidiary reading of fiction. This was one of those subsidiary works, my greatest philosophical concerns being ethical. This book, assigned for Dave Schweickart's Social and Political Philosophy of Literature course, was far and away the most important book I read. Raymond Queneau was someone I had to understand. From the perspective of the class wherein this book was studied, the issue which most exercised the teacher--and, through him, us--was whether or not Queneau fully recognized the socio-linguistic implications of his assumptions and arguments. We were unable to reach a conclusion.

Traveller

What with my fear of spoilers and all, I found that the first story acted as a spoiler for all of the stories that followed it, so half way through the second story I hastily and impulsively shelved the book on my “ain-t-ever-going-to-happen” shelf, where it ain’t ever going to happen, I can assure you of that.

Megha

Completely related aside:

This novel reminds me of my visit to MoMA. One of the works of art was '10 million years', basically all the numbers from 1 to 10 million written in 10 fat books. How artistic is that? Did anybody check the books? What if the artist had made a mistake towards the end of a book? On the artist's part, it must have taken a lot of patience and hard-work. It probably fed some sort of obsession of his. But no matter what it meant to him, to me it was just BLAH! I can be quite a lousy museum-goer. This novel is the same. Why these 99 stories? Are they the right stories? Are they the best stories? What did he leave out? Are we being short-changed? But really. Who cares? To me it was just BLAH! I can be quite a lousy reader. At least it wasn't a fat book.

Stephen M

While they make for an engaging and sometimes hilarious read, these stories also work with an overall conceit within the novel that concerns itself with the problematic relationship between philosophical thinking and human interaction. The characters bear such a close resemblance to their creator, that parsing the differences between intentional and unintentional personality traits imbued in them, and their subsequent significance in the novel, would be an exercise in futility rather than style. There is no doubt that philosophy, as a field of study and practice, takes as its defining characteristic to be critical thinking and a dependence on the foundations of logic. Whether intentional or not, the novel applies the practices of critical thinking and analysis to all aspects of the characters’ relationships with paranoiac intensity. Before I descend further into self-parody, let me pre-empt the reader by saying that a parody of me would just be a rambling, self-conscious, psuedo-philosophical rant with a ton a grammatical mistakes.

Manny

Having read the original French edition, I thought I would translate it into Swedish. I think it was the better for it. Certainly not, thought so. I mean, certainly, not thought so. I incorporated a cryptic but admiring mathematical reference into the preface for not. I have never seen not so humble as when she encountered my dedication while reading quietly in bed.

Scribble

Dammit - you've grabbed the hot seat. I wanted to sit there. Now I'll have to settle for being the stooge who always arrives late bleating on about conflated misandry. So I have all of these big fat post-modernist books I’ve just bought and now I have to review them. How should I begin? I debated in the quiet chambers of my mind many hours how to review this book. No, I’ve used that before. I flung ideas at my ever-patient partner about the dialectic of why I thought what I thought, asking to be challenged because this book is seductive by nature and intellectual by design and how can a reader resist the temptation to attack such a potent combination? No, I’m an anarchist. Nobody will believe me when I use the word “dialectic”. Sitting in the bus, up the back with the other non-conformists, I wrote many opening sentences and discarded those, concocted a structure and buried it under a dense blanket of autobiographical rhetoric which I consigned to the bonfire of my vanity, and considered simply silence, as the excruciating riposte. And so after all this deliberation, I chose silence. I had reached my stop. It was time for me to get off.

Paul Bryant

It says on the back this book is a meditation on the nature of fiction. So, what is fiction? Fiction is when someone gently tugs this book out of your hands and says "You don't need to read this continental crap, dear. You're coming to bed with me."

Ian Graye

Fit Enough to Read

My wife is the one
Who exercises in style,
While I just read books.

Riku

I feel a slight anger towards the author for playing this trick on me, for leading me on into reading the entire book, without giving me anything new which I had not received from the first story. Usually when I decide to read a book, I do it with the knowledge that I will gain something new with each chapter, but Queneau gave me none of that.

What I do appreciate about this reading experience is this: as is stated in the novel, anything that happens only once might as well have not happened at all - does it then apply that any novel that consists of less than one story repeated or recurring, might as well have not been written at all?

s.penkevich

After finishing Raymond Queneau’s “Exercises in Style”, I had to step back awhile before reviewing in fear I would simply come across as an overzealous cheerleader yelling ‘Give me an R!....Give me an A!...Give me a Y!....,etc, etc’. Like a teenage romance, I was so blinded by my love for this collection and author that I wasn’t sure exactly what it was I loved so much, and if this brightly burning passion was distracting me from the flaws and faults that I wouldn’t realize were there until much later. After giving some time to reflect, my overzealousness has hardly died down and, through some helpful and insightful discussions and rereads of the stories with others (I highly recommend reading Garima's wonderfully comprehensive review!), I have not only been able to pinpoint my feelings on the book, but my appreciation has only continued to grow. The stories in this collection, while each varying dramatically at times in terms of style and voice, all seem to reflect upon the psychological implications of existing in the modern era of media and social pressures. Yeah this one was stunning, no, better than that, awesome. My joy is simply ineffable right now.

Garima

It won’t be fair on my part to give stars to this book on a whole. There are 99 different stories written in distinct styles, some of which went well with me and some not so well. So I will give it three stars. But instead of a review, let me tell you a story about the author. Well, it was supposed to be about the author. I saw him many times around here, since I joined the GR Club. Sometimes having tete-a-tete with one of my friends and sometimes being the cynosure of some group discussions. I thought of approaching him on many occasions but I didn’t want to come up as somewhat forward and I wasn’t even sure if he was my TYPE. You see it’s a long term commitment and there are many things I need to be sure about like compatibility and I don’t even know anything about him yet and at the end I don’t wanna make a fool of myself. Then one day I saw him on the bus and he was arguing with an older man. Then he went and sat down in a spare seat. He seemed to be upset, so I worked up the courage to go up and talk to him. I approached him from behind and gently touched his shoulder. At first, he recoiled. Then he saw me and his mood changed. He smiled. It wasn’t Raymond Queneau after all. It was Sven. I turned around just as the older man was getting off the bus. I didn't get a really good look at his face, but if I'm not mistaken, it was Ian Graye. He can't even have a bus trip without getting into an argument with someone.

Nathan

I want those 37 minutes back! This book is awful; a total disaster. I’m sure the author was a very nice guy for a Frog and all but he can’t write worth shit. There is not a single identifiable character in this “novel,” and I mean not just a character I can identify with, but there’s not even a character in here. Well there’s two, but we know nothing more about them at the end than we do at the beginning. And plot? Are you kidding me? There is more plot in “A Postmodern Belch”. Plus it has more headings than an Ian Graye review. Of course I didn’t read the whole thing--I got tired of running to the dictionary every three pages just so I could understand the headings (why does every damn pomo author have to be so egotistical and use words us average readers don’t even know?) Anyone that says they’ve read this whole Exercise (“Vomit” would be more accurate) is a liar. This is worse than The Iliad my teacher forced me to read.

Sean Wayne

Reluctant Cricket Dismissal

From where I stood at midwicket,
He sounded caught behind to me.
Still, given out by the umpire,
With a replay we all could see,
He refused to walk off the ground,
Fortified by his law degree,
He argued toe to toe with all
And even cursed and swore at me,
Until the keeper grabbed his shirt
And, buttonless, forced him to flee.

DJ Ian

Oh, my Dog, is it any wonder the French no longer have an Empire? Look at this crap, will you? Write one story 99 different ways and call it a novel? You’ve got to be kidding. This reminds me of the production assistant who asked me for a job once. She had a few CV entries that appealed to me, but I’m not allowed to discuss them on air. The big problem was that she, I mean they, said she, I mean they, had 20 years experience. But as soon as I gave her, I mean them, a trial, it turned out that she I mean they had just had one year’s experience, the same year, 20 times. It just doesn't work that way. Give me plot, give me character, give me character development. Fiction is not a chemistry experiment, where you mix up ingredients and hope it [does/doesn’t] blow up in the reader’s face. There is no suspense inherent in repetition. A reader doesn’t want to read something 99 times in the hope that the last time will be different. Give me a break, give me a break dance. Raymond Queneau is the Plastic Bertrand of French Fiction. I’m sorry, France, you should just stick to movies. Your actresses are HOT! HOT! HOT! Work them to the bone. Don’t even worry about your actors. They’re FAT! FAT! FAT! Oh, I forgot, he’s a Russian now. Maybe I should just cross to Rupert for the news.

Richard

Haiku with Word Play

Needing a button,
He argued loudly, after which
He took affront seat.

Rakhi

This is definitely one great work :) There is much to be grasped here. Though I won't whole heatedly concur with all of the stories, some of them are great pearls to be cherished :) It can positively alter the thought process once you go beyond the text and try to relate it on a more personal level. It is one of my favorites :) I apologize if I haven't been clearer.

Ted

I have to admit I don't comprehend this book. It seems like the author is retelling the story in the novel. Is that what it is supposed to be? In which case it really has nothing to do with what a conventional book is, but rather is the author's tag-along take on what he has already done?

I'm not trying to be critical here, but simply trying to explain why I don't see much in this book that speaks to me. I guess I'm too old and too conventional.

Bird Brian

You can tell that story in 99 chapters? Well, I can tell it in nine, better still, one! I'm sick of Raymond Queneau fans gushing over his economy with words and his simple sentence styles. I can appreciate why that sort of minimalism takes skill to master, but I'm a reader for chrissakes - I want to be told a story, not subjected to a sort of narrative and syntactical bloodletting, experimenting with how many different ways we can tell the same story and still have it live. Nobody swoons over the latest car that looks like every other damned car on the road. Nobody runs around recommending their friends to try out the new burger joint in town that gives you the same fascist shit as the Golden Arches. I want content! Narrative abundance! I want to be entertained!! I'll take Proust's runon cumulative sentences over Queneau's narrative and locutional anemia any day.

Steve

Interest in random text generation appears to have begun with the famous, though untested, proposition that an infinite number of monkeys with infinite time at their keyboards would ultimately reproduce Shakespeare. Of course, pure randomness without some kind of structure is a highly inefficient path toward literary art. Plus, the process is just as likely to produce piggy porn as it is to emulate Queneau (granting, for our purposes, that there is a distinction to be made). While the exact algorithm used by Queneau (1981) to produce “Exercises in Style” (henceforth EIS) was never documented, we contend that the method proposed in this review is, on average, in a repeated sampling context, observationally equivalent. As is true of any simulation, there is a deterministic component and a random component. Simulated paths will vary, but the statistical distributions from which the stochastic terms are sampled match those of EIS.

Praj

Was I searching for such lust when I entered the bus? I knew the recognizable twinge springing through my warm body when I saw this book laying amid the boisterous articles on the vacant bus seat; the quintessential oddball novel. I had devoured it once, in one sitting or was it between my silken sheets with that night’s sorry lover? Was I truly prepared for the experience once again? Ecstasy swayed in my cold perspiration. The unbearable sighs in the offing for a consequential release; the chronic tapping of feet on the cold floor of the slow riding bus; was I geared up for all? The thought of “Exercises in Style” was more pleasurable than diamond fields and spouter whales. A strange man was just a few breaths away and audaciously gawking at my hand which was meantimes venturing its wiry way between my legs. Politely, I excuse myself from his offered help and dash out of the bus hoping I do not see him again. I realise I have left the book on the bus seat. I chase the bus afterwards, until the next stop where it unloads that cute American girl I’ve spoken to a few times and she is holding a copy of said book. I follow her...

Aubrey

Give me a bus ride compromised by emotion, drugs, unreliable narrators spilling their guts to a psychedelic riddle that crosses consciousness and space-time continuum. Give me a French bus driver, chain smoking and complaining about the President’s celebrity wife. Give me Lolita. Give me American Psycho. Give me unrelenting displays of cruelty and abuse and subsequent coping mechanisms whose effects are just as vicious as their causes, and sprinkle them with laugh out loud moments clouded by the memories of the aforementioned atrocities. Give me David Foster Wallace. Give me recognition that the brain is an organ just as unwieldy and unreliable as the heart or the kidney, and thinking your way out of something is sometimes the worst possible decision you could ever make. Give me Kafka. Give me the paragon of masculinity breaking down into snotty sobs in front of an openly weeping crowd of fellow human beings, in a transport system that cannot possibly work until it does. Give me Thomas Mann. Give me the revival of hope in mankind, embodied in the briefest touch between one masquerading as the dregs of society, and one unaware of their hopeless plight to a heartrending degree. Give me China Mieville. Give me the type of author who has weird and fantastical dreams that all too easily dip into nightmares and back again, undergoing a number of cycles in a single night. Dreams that he can't help writing down to share with the rest of us. Give me miscommunication on a truly horrendous scale, conversers following their own narratives with minuscule attention paid to their conversees, many pairs of these circling in a bus with no clear and singular "plot". Give me something Gallic, some book that is just so right for this France, this Paris, this creative beacon that teems with contagious culture and ridiculous fashions to this very day, one that can be silly but is often so very, very brave. Give me a book that contains a Truth that will have its way with me that I didn't realize I desperately craved until I am lying on the floor, breathless and aching with tears flowing freely down my cheeks, stunned in the realization that I am not the only one in the room and, yes, oh my God, that adorable Indian woman who I have seen a few times on the short bus, Praj, is beside me. She smiles. She inspects my vulnerability with a professional but slightly perverse gaze. She lifts her hand, moves it slowly, suggestively, sensuously, sibilantly, towards me, and, oh oh, she rests it gently on my book. Then, without further ado, she rises and is gone from my room. So is the book. Yet again, I have found myself lost in alliteration.

[Mayim de Vries · Rating 5 out of 5]

Basic
I really loved this book! I read it once, and then again for a good measure.

Neithering
Neither hated nor liked. Neither a movie nor an audio recording. Neither read once nor thrice.

Shakespearean
I very much did love this booketh! i readeth t once apace and then again but soft sav'ring the details.

Epistolary
Dear Sir or Madam, it is my sincere hope that this message finds you in good health. This is just a short note to let you know that I veritably relished the book which I am sincerely recommending you while remaining your ever devoted servant.

Passive
The book felt really loved as it was read two times (and even marked with a pencil!).

Passive-Aggressive
Since you didn't even ask how I liked the book, I'll have you know that I liked it a lot even though you probably thought it too ambitious for me. In fact, I read it twice so there is no need to remind me that I am 28 books behind the schedule, thanks.

Nominal
I theodorly loved this hugh. I fred it once and then liz it again a little bit spencer.

Confessional
Forgive me Father Librarian for I have sinned by underlining this book with a pencil... How many times...? Oh... several, I’m afraid... But I really couldn’t resist the temptation...

Frenglish
I 'ighly recommend zis fantastique book! It is quite 'ilarious, non? Read it deux times (preferably at least once in ze original français).

Negative
I hated the book so much I could not even open it once.

Textual
btw i <3 that book! so funny lmao! idk if i read better this year imo u should read it 2!

Dialogical
"So," said Mr de Vries with a certain smugness. "I totally knew she would love it."
"How so?" asked John over his beer.
"She read it twice," explained Mr de Vries. And then added, "In one evening! I always know which books are best."

[Ulysse · Rating 5 out of 5]

Learian

Of all the French poets I know
Arranged on my shelves in a row
Who brandish their wits
From Berck to Biarritz
There’s no one as fun as Queneau

Dickinsonian

O let me tell you all a tale—
About a book—I read
I laughed so hard—my crow she thought—
I had gone off—my head

Heroic

Today I read a fine book by Queneau
Which I found even funnier than Godot

Dantesque

O shouldst thou ever come across this book
Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
I enjoin thee to go and have a look

Whether thy name be Mary or Saint Peter
Salome François Mohamed or Mia

Insta Poet

you are
much more
than you
queneau

Uninspired

Hail Muse
Oh well...

Romantic

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Queneau’s best read
In bed with you

Negative

God I really loathed this book
Because I couldn’t relate
To the main character whose neck
Conceit did elongate

Homicidal Fanboy Fourteeners

Oh Raymond Queneau is the greatest writer I have read
And those who don’t think as I do I want them to be dead

Clockwise

______________O
___________g______b
_________n__________r
________i_____________a
_______r______________i
________t___________d
___________s______e
______________d

Linear

______________W
______________h
______________a
______________t
______________a
______________v
______________e
______________r
______________y
______________l
______________o
______________n
______________g
______________n
______________e
______________c
______________k
______________y
______________o
______________u
______________h
______________a
______________v
______________e
______________t
______________h
______________e
______________r
______________e
______________y
______________o
______________u
______________n
______________g
______________m
______________a
______________n
______________!

S

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
ss........s........s........s.......s........s.......s...........ssssss
ss........s........s........s.......s........s.......s.............ssssss
ss........sssssss........ssssss.......ssssss..............ssssss
ss..............................................................……….sssss
ss.........................................................................ssss
ss...........sssss................................sssss..........sssss
sssss....sssssss...ssssssssssssa..sssssss...sssssss
..............sssss................................sssss

[Irena Pasvinter · Rating 2 out of 5]

Finished, finally.

Some books are swallowed in one gulp and others seem to drag indefinitely. This one belongs to the latter kind. Considering its shortness, it's quite an amazing acheivement.

So what do we have here? One mediocre tiny story of little interest (this is obviously an intentional choice of the subject matter) told in many (much too many!) different ways. Actually, at the beginning I felt quite enthusiastic about the idea. But as I trodded through the numerous "exercises", an interesting idea quickly degenerated into its own parody. If anything, this word acrobatics is mostly the profanation of the idea of style.

Romain Gary writing in the voice of Emile Ajar is all about style; Raymond Queneau having fun with Exercices de style has little to nothing to do with style, and a lot with the Emperor's New Clothes.

Some quotes from the different "stylistic" retellings of the story about the infamous bus encounter:

Télégraphique

BUS BONDÉ STOP JNHOMME LONG COU CHAPEAU CERCLE TRESSÉ APOSTROPHE VOYAGEUR INCONNU SANS PRÉTEXTE VALABLE STOP QUESTION DOIGTS PIEDS FROISSÉS CONTACT TALON PRÉTENDU VOLONTAIRE STOP JNHOMME ABANDONNE DISCUSSION POUR PLACE LIBRE STOP QUATORZE HEURES PLACE ROME JNHOMME ÉCOUTE CONSEILS VESTIMENTAIRES CAMARADE STOP DÉPLACER BOUTON STOP SIGNÉ ARCTURUS

So this one is a telegram, well, reasonably funny and illustrative. But then there is this:

Permutations par groupes croissants de mots

Jour un midi vers, la sur arrière plate-forme un d'de autobus ligne la j'S un aperçus jeune au homme trop cou qui long un portait entouré chapeau un d'tressé galon.

Words' permutations! Like "jour un midi vers" instead of "Un jour vers midi". Seriously? Aka, "let's see how much of my bullshit my readers can take."

Author (read by me between the lines): Ok, so they are still reading, these obstinate readers? How about this one then:

Ensembliste
Dans l'autobus S considérons l'ensemble A des voyageurs assis et l'ensemble D des voyageurs debout. À un certain arrêt, se trouve l'ensemble P des personnes qui attendent. Soit C l'ensemble des voyageurs qui montent; c'est un sous-ensemble de P et il est lui-même l'union de C' l'ensemble des voyageurs qui restent sur la plate-forme et de C'' l'ensemble de ceux qui vont s'asseoir. Démontrer que l'ensemble C'' est vide.

Author: And this one, a nice Greek word by the way, let them look it up in a dictionary (epenthesis: the insertion of one or more sounds in the middle of a word):"

Epenthèse
Uon jouir vears mirdi, suir lea plateforome arrièare d'uin autoibus S, joe vois uin homime aiu conu troup loung quai poritait uin chaipeau enotouré d'uin galion tresasé avu lievu die ruaban.

Author: Still not done reading? Ok, another Greek blow -- they won't be able to claim they've learned nothing here! (paragoges: the addition of a sound to the end of a word):

Paragoges
Ung jourz verse midir, surl laa plateformet arrièreu d'uno autobusi, j'aperçuss uno jeuneu hommeu aux coux tropr longg ett quie portaito ung chapeaux entourée d'ung galong tressés aux lieux deu rubann.

Author: No getting out of ideas for me! Take this:

Par devant par derrière
Un jour par devant vers midi par derrière sur la plate-forme par devant arrière par derrière d'un autobus par devant à peu près complet par derrière, j'aperçus par devant un homme par derrière qui avait par devant un long cou par derrière et un chapeau par devant


Author: And how about a bit of Latin added into the mix:

Macaronique

Sol erat in regionem zenithi et calor atmospheri magnissima. Senatus populusque parisiensis sudebant. Autobi passebant completi. In uno ex supradicti autobibus qui S denominationem portebat, hominem quasi junum, cum collo multi elongato et cum chapito a galono tressato cerclaro vidi.

And so on, and so forth... OK, enough quoting.

The more of these "stylistic" gimmicks I read, the more I found myself wondering about additional variants of the dreadful story:

"Bored out of my mind" style
"Emoticons" style - but of course!
"C++" style
"C" style
"Java" style
"Python" style
"Ancient Egyptian" style -- and why not?
"Biblical" style
"Comics" style

You see how quickly it becomes absurd and unbearable? All these additional retellings of one little dreadful story definitely could be written, but what's the point? To try the reader's patience? To get a book out? To "exercise" your style? To finally learn how to spell "exercise"? Whatever...

[Annetius · Rating 5 out of 5]

Το βιβλίο αυτό ήτανε να’ούμε πολύ μόρτικο, αλλά και συνάμα ψυχασθενιάρικο διότι δε λέω, μπράβο του τού τύπου, μαγκιά του που έκατσε ο αθεόφοβος κι έγραψε 99 φορές το ίδιο σενάριο με άλλο στυλ κάθε φορά, τι να πω; Καθένας με την τρέλα του! Κι ο Κυριακίδης πολύ τσάκαλος να’ούμε, θέλει κότσια να μεταφράσεις την τρέλα του καθενός, ειδικά αυτουνού που την είχε μπόλικη, το ίδιο στόρι σε 99 ύφη ρε φίλε; Πρέπει να μάτωσε το ανθρωπάκι, μπράβο τους πάντως και του ενός και του άλλου, τα ρέστα μου.

[Drew · Rating 2 out of 5]

I feel like this book's high average rating is caused mostly by the fact that the only people who would even know about it are the sort of people who'd like it. So, though I didn't hate it completely, I'm here to offer a dissenting opinion:

This book kind of sucks.

It's a short, anticlimactic anecdote about a scuffle on a bus, told in 99 different styles. I imagine this is already enough to turn off most people, but in case this still sounds really good to you, be apprised that none of those styles actually include anything that would ordinarily be considered "good" writing. At best, it's parody of purple prose; at worst, complete nonsense. Several "styles" are just lopping off the beginning of the words (apheresis), or cutting the ends short (apocope), or, hell, just removing the middle (syncope). Allow me to just quote, in increasing order of offensiveness:

from Philosophic: "great cities alone can provide phenomenological spirituality with the essentialities of temporal and improbabilistic coincidences."

from Noble: "the hour when the rosy fingers of the dawn started to crack I climbed, rapid as a tongue of flame, into a bus, mighty of stature and with cow-like eyes, of the S-line of sinuous course."

from Prosthesis: "ga shat kwith va splaited acord xinstead yof va cribbon cround pit."

from Permutations by groups of 5, 6, 7, and 8 letters: "lyhest sudden oharan artedt neighb guehis imingt ourcla urpose hathep onhist lytrod rytime oeseve gotino anyone rout." (spell-checker is working overtime tonight)

I'm not being entirely fair here; some of the little sections are decent ideas, decently written, describing the situation only in terms of smell, or taste, or whatever. But for the majority of the others, I can think of only a few possible motivations for their existence:

A) Queneau needed some filler, because the 10 or so good ones don't constitute full-book material.

B) Queneau wanted to show off his Greek. (viz. epenthesis, metathesis, paragoge, homeoptotes, polyptotes)

C) Queneau is trying to distract us from the fact that he's not actually a good writer.

Ultimately, it comes down to the fact that it's all better in theory. You read "Prosthesis" and think, hmm, that's interesting, I wonder what he's going to do here. Then you see he's just tacking a single random letter onto the front of every word. Do you read it to the end? There's nothing interesting about it; you already know the story and you've figured out this so-called "style." So you skip it, only to realize that if you do that with each one, you're skipping 80 percent of the book. But so be it. One more quote for the road:

"An houate aftrate, in front of the Saint-Lazate gate, I notate him agate, talkate about a buttate, a buttate on his overcate."

[Ajeje Brazov · Rating 4 out of 5]

Esercizi di stile, sono appunto 99 esercizi che l'autore ha fatto per la stesura di un libro. Qui, nello specifico, l'esempio che fa è su una semplice situazione quotidiana che può succedere a chiunque...
Di certo è un libro adatto agli addetti ai lavori, cioè scrittori, giornalisti, ecc... direi che questo libretto sia molto prezioso soprattutto per gli scrittori esordienti o per chi sia in crisi creativa.
A me, che non sono un addetto ai lavori, è risultato a tratti divertente, a tratti disorientante (soprattutto per quegli esercizi di cui non ne sapevo nulla). Nel complesso, comunque, un libro che merita una lettura almeno nella vita. Per chi ama i libri, la letteratura e tutto ciò che sta dietro alla stesura di un'opera letteraria, questo libro è imprescindibile.

[Matthew Ted · Rating 4 out of 5]

[23rd book of 2021. Artist for this review is French artist Robert Delaunay.]

My father is a casual reader; on some evenings I find him reading Maugham or Greene, for a time he was reading Murakami often, or John le Carré. The other day I outlined the premise of this book for him and he began to laugh. Yes, I told him, it is a book comprised of the same scene (a scuffle on a bus and a later coincidence) written 99 times, each time in a different style. He adored the idea, and so I read him some examples as they are usually no more than a page or two each. And each time he laughed, he craned his neck to see the page as if he didn't believe I was truly reading from it; he asked, when I was finished, would he be able to read it?


"Rhythm no.1"—1938

Queneau is funny, surprisingly so. The challenge here is undeniable, and it becomes a challenge reading it, certainly reading too much at once, as it is repetitive as it is brilliant, boring as it is funny and banal as it is inventive. It is Oulipo to the extreme. It is self-mocking and wholly serious at once. My blurb poses, "A serious linguistic study, even a philosophical comment on human behaviour..."


"Circular Forms"—1930

Here are some of the styles used in the book:
Metaphorically, Surprises, Dream, Word-Composition, Animism, Anagrams, Blurb, Onomatopoeia, Ignorance, Passive, Alexandrines, Apocope, Noble, Cockney, Comedy, Parechesis, Spectral, Sonnet, Tactile, Telegraphic, Ode, Permutations by Groups of 2, 3, 4 and 5 Letters, Hellenisms, Haiku, Paragoge, Metathesis, Back Slang, Dog Latin, Opera English, Medical, Abusive, Zoological, Mathematical, Interjections, etc.

There are more. The book is a linguistic treat. Anyone interested in language and style should read it. The casual reader, like my father, may also be surprised. Read with breaks. Avoid buses. Laugh—everyone involved is being mocked.

[Pavel Nedelcu · Rating 4 out of 5]

99 MODI DI SPERIMENTARE

Un evento di banale importanza viene raccontato in 99 modi diversi.

La traduzione di Umberto Eco gareggia spesso con l'autore, mettendo in evidenza anche il suo talento da scrittore. Gli esercizi giocano con le figure retoriche, con le prospettive, i registri discorsivi o i campi semantici. Divertente, sperimentale, consigliato.

[Katia N · Rating 5 out of 5]

Marvellous, playful and inventive. I was not bored at all reading the same daft story 99 times. And it made me laugh quite a few times. Also I caught myself a few times recognising the styles of both well-known writers and the novices. I think, everyone aspired to write fiction would benefit of reading it before the start. As for a reader, it is just pure intellectual pleasure.

My book was complimented by two essays. One was by Italo Calvino about Queneau; another -by Umberto Eco about this book. Both were very fascinating.

[Yoana · Rating 5 out of 5]

С ЕМОТИКОНИ
🕛🚐🤠🦴🧶😤😩👞🥾🧐🥴💺
🕑🚂🏫🤠🤠🧥🔘🔼

ЕСНАФСКО
Наложи се вчера по обяд да взема рейса до фитнеса, щото теслата е у жената днес, а тротинетка около офиса няма никаква. Леле това градския транспорт в Мордор верно е ужас, нищо чудно, че всички селяни са на мръсните си коли! Впрочем не знам защо не си купят електрически, ебаси малоумните замърсители, ама такъв ни е матряла, какво да се прави. Та в тоя миризлив рейс, нагъчкани едни жалкари, провинциалисти сигурно, и някакъв проскубан студент със супер нелепа шапка - сигурно в родното му място минава за статус символ - почна да вика как някакъв пенсионер го бил настъпвал, когато се качвали и слизали хора. Страхотно ми пречеха да си чета книгата по история на барберството. После оня се покри, като видя празна седалка - типично, смелчага само на думи, ето затова няма да се оправи тази държава. За протестите сигурно не е чувал. Просто едва изтраях до спирката.
И на връщане се наложи да взема рейса, защото къде ти тротинетки в тоя панелен ад на периферията на София? Ще трябва да сменям работата, след като не могат да осигурят елементарното удобство да имаш фитнес в същата сграда. Та от прозореца на рейса го видях тоя същия селянин с някакъв друг навлек като него пред Сточна гара да обсъждат облеклото си. Лол, все едно някога са чували за Дзеня или поне за Том Форд. Ох, нямам търпение да дойде време да ходим на палатки в Скандинавието, това не се трае.

***

СОФИЙСКО
Начи бате, качвам се в рейса неска по обед, щото бегах от даскало. И вътре, бате, некъв гъз – ама тъп ти казвам, дигна некъв ебати скандала, бате. Били го бутали, ми в рейса кво иска. Вика, вика и избега да седне, бате, казвам ти, пълен гъз.
Към 5, бехме се направили на гъз с френдовете, и се връщам пак с рейса, бате, и гледам оня същия гъз пред Попа с некъв същия като него, бате – и оня: „Аре опраи се бе, глей къв си изсулен”. Пълен шит, бате, казвам ти.

БУРГАСКО
Ко стаа ве лек! Въй, лек, неска ако знайш ко стана... Начи по обяд се качвам аз в 211, ама фраш ти казвам, лек! И точно до мене, отпреде, някво лице, ама ако знайш колко прост, въййй! 100 на 100 беше от Меден рудник, лек. С няква тъпа шапка с конче. И почна да кряка някъв, да се репчи на няква нацепена батка до него. Обаче като стана напечена работата, се покри някъде отзаде на рейса.
После в 5 часа, лек, ходя си аз по Александровска и на Часовника гледам същото лице с някъв маняк, дето му разправя да се барнел по-така, че не бил достатъчно натокан. Яката работа, лек!

ПОЛИТИЧЕСКИ КОРЕКТНО
Днес по обяд в един автобус от обществения транспорт със запълнен капацитет случайно попаднах в близкостоящо положение до две личности, едната над 20те, а другата около 40те години, и двете в разцвета на силите си. Първата личност, която беше с по-висок от средния ръст, изрази с малко по-висок от средното тон несъгласието си с действията на втората, които окачестви като причиняващи известен дискомфорт на долните му крайници, като изказа предположение, че тези действия не са напълно непреднамерени. След като изложи мнението си в завършен вид, първата личност отиде да заеме едно освободило се място, като не прояви специално отн��шение към други пътници по полов или възрастов признак с опит да им отстъпи това място.
Няколко часа по-късно случайно попаднах на същата личност на един площад, разхождаща се с друга личност, която може да му е била колкото приятел или колега, толкова и интимен партньор. Втората личност предложи съвет на първата относно връхната му дреха, който беше безпристрастен и непредизвикан от патриархални представи за мъжественост в облеклото.

[Megha · Rating 3 out of 5]

Pearls before a swine? Perhaps.

It definitely takes a lot of talent for someone to tell one completely unremarkable story 99 times and still make a fun and readable book out of it. What Queneau (and the translator) has done here is really clever work, no doubt. And I can imagine this whole exercise must have been very amusing for him. But that doesn't mean reading it will be just as enjoyable as writing it was.**

These are exercises in writing in English (originally French). I do have some working knowledge of English, but nowhere enough to understand the nuances of the language. I actually had to look up some of the chapter titles in the dictionary, most of which were technical terms related to linguistics and grammar. Being illiterate in literary matters, I may not always be able to appreciate writing proficiency. I read for fun, not for 99 exercises in reading!
People who have a better eye for word play, will probably enjoy this book better.

My rating for this book kept fluctuating throughout. There are some chapters for which I will easily give solid five stars. But then there are others which seem entirely nonsensical and impractical. No one will ever use them for any real writing. Also, writing style needs to be suitable to the content. Some of the styles seem forced. Then there a bunch of chapters which were perhaps added just to bring the number to 99.

- Add/remove a sound to/from beginning/middle/end of each word
- permutations of nth alphabets/words
These already make more than 10 chapters.

Another clever thing Queneau did was to keep the chapters very short. Otherwise I would have skipped many of them after reading only a few sentences to figure out the style.

In case anyone is wondering what the story is, here it is, in Interjections style:

"Psst! h'm! ah! oh! hem! ah! ha! hey! well! oh! pooh! poof! ow! oo! ouch! hey! eh! h'm! pffft!

Well! hey! pooh! oh! h'm! right!"

** Completely unrelated aside :

This reminds me of my visit to MoMA. One of the works of art was '10 million years', basically all the numbers from 1 to 10 million written in 10 fat books. On the artist's part, it must have taken a lot of patience and hard-work. It probably fed some sort of obsession of his. But no matter what it meant to him, to me it was just BLAH! I can be quite a lousy museum-goer.

[Bojan Gačić]

Nakon verbalnog sukoba dva muškarca u prepunom autobusu usledio je razgovor o nedostatku dugmeta na kaputu. Ovakva dva obična događaja prepričana su devedeset-devet puta kroz "Stilske Vežbe" Rejmona Kinoa.

U paleti različitih stilova(prezent, perfekat, sonet, upravni govor, pasiv, sinkopa, formalno pismo, komedija, haiku, slobodni stih itd.), istinski smo u prilici da svedočimo koliko jezik, iako često omeđen pravilima i ograničenjima, pruža najveću slobodu čovekovoj ekspresiji. Ključ večitog životnog balansiranja između objektivnog i subjektivnog, leži na tromeđi: tačke gledišta, veštine izražavanja i "verzije istine".

Bez obzira kako pristupili ovom književnom performansu, analitičko-istraživački ili spontano, u duhu zabave, biće jasno da je u pitanju poklon za čitaoce i raj za prevodioce. "Stilske vežbe" su slavljenje slobode pisanog jezika kao elementarnog i nužnog aspekta ljudskog postojanja.

[Carlo Mascellani · Rating 3 out of 5]

Più che un libro è un vero e proprio trattato di stilistica. Una situazione semplice, in sé quasi banale, viene rivisitata secondo gli stili più disparati, a mostrare come, in narrativa, sia possibile declinare in mille modi la stessa scena. Utile per chi si approccia alla scrittura. Poco più di un testo curioso per tutti gli altri.

[Lubinka Dimitrova · Rating 4 out of 5]

So, as it turns out, I've read the book in 8th grade, and found it so awesome, that I wrote down in my diary some of the story renderings.



This time around, not so much. Eventually, I grew tired and I didn't really finish the book. But I suppose that's the sad fate of re-reading old favorites...

(Loved the illustrations though!)

[Кремена Михайлова · Rating 5 out of 5]

2018

За втори път чета „Упражнения по стил“ на Реймон Кьоно, но този път вече си купих книгата да си я имам за вечно ползване (смеене). Вярно е, че първия път беше много по-мега смях, но сега освен на смешното обърнах още повече внимание на езиковите/стилистичните вариации. Наистина освен че е смешно, съвсем изпипано е всичко във всяко текстче – не е просто вариация според заглавието, а и самото съдържание е попроменено уместно и разнообразно. И финал си има книгата дори!

Ама какво има да коментирам аз Реймон Кьоно, след като е бил приятел на Борис Виан и Луис Бунюел (много ми се иска да видя предговора на Кьоно за „Сърца за изтръгване“) и да прочета още негови книги освен „Зази в метрото“.

Любими упражнения този път:

Удвоено, Сродни думи, Философско, Написано наопаки, Одушевено, Вкусово, Антонимично, Изопачено, Ботаническо, Кулинарно и много други.
Отново възхищение за превода – на всички, но особено на Омофоничен каламбур, Липограма и др.

БОТАНИЧЕСКО

След като пуснах корени от чакане под налятата слънчогледова пита, аз се насадих на една тиквичка край пътя. О се натъкнах на избуяла кратуна, чийто лимоненожълт плод стърчеше с увита около него лиана. Този ми ти пипон наряза като кисела краставичка някакъв репон, който му тъпчел лехите и му газел лука. Обаче за да не вади кестените от огъня, той бързо си обра крушите и цъфна в един парцел за лично ползване.
По-късно го видях на селския пазар, направен на бъзе и коприва, понеже имаше на палтото си нещо, което не беше цвете за мирисане.

УДВОЕНО

По пладне и по обед се качих и се намирах на платформата и на задната площадка в един автобус и градски рейс, пълен и претъпкан, по южната линия и от Контрес-карп към Шампере. Аз и моя милост видях и забелязах един млад мъж и зрял юноша, твърде смешен и доста комичен, с кльощав врат и тънка шия, а около шапката и покрай капелата - с въженце и канапче. След настаналата суматоха и подир настъпилата бъркотия той каза и рече със сълзлив глас и плачлив тон, че неговият съсед и близкостоящ нарочно и умишлено го бутал и блъскал, щом и колчем някой слизал или излизал. Като свърши словото си и приключи речта си, той се отправи и насочи към едно празно място и свободна седалка.
След два часа и подир сто и двайсет минути отново и пак го срещнах и видях на площад Ром и пред гара Сен Лазар, придружен и съпроводен от свой приятел и негов другар, който го съветваше и убеждаваше да прибави и зашие едно копче и кокалено търкалце на своята горна и връхна дреха и одежда.


*****

2017

ИЗОПАЧЕНО

„Бреме за обет. По нужната линия автобусът е пълен с кътници. Свиркам си за Шампере… За беля един младеж има прекалено дълъг брат (сякаш са го разтягали!) и мека папка с ширит. Той вдига голям сандал на съседа си, защото онзи го лъскал задочно за закачване при влизане. После завижда на едно свободно място и се катурва на него.

Следва (отново за беда!) гаргара, ама съвсем хазартна, с негов приятел, който е специалист по бельото и му дава годни завети от носа на едно попче.“



Обичам ги такивички:


ЗВУКОЗАПИС

Когато скочих (малко нескопосано) в колосалния корпус на колата, окото ми бе приковано от комично конте, което ярко контрастираше сред околните колкото с висококоефициентното си тънковратие, толкова и с широкополото си шапкоподобие, декорирано с конопено кордонче вместо с копринена кордела. Костеливият сополанко се накокошини и укори близкостоящия шишко, че колчем го докоснел с подкованите си кондури, го контузвал жестоко. След което нехранимайкото коварно прескочи конфликта, прекосявайки тичешком коридора, за да се докопа до комфорта.
Пешком констатирах, че контето коментира с другинко такова конте колко неспокойствие коства закопчаването на което и да е сако, ако …


АНТОНИМИЧНО

Полунощ. Вали дъжд. Автобусите минават почти празни. Върху предния капак н аавтобуса, идващ откъм Бастилията, един гологлав и късоврат старец благодари на някаква много отдалечена от него дама затуй, че го гали по ръцете. После застана прав в скута на един господин, който не напусна мястото си.
Два часа по-късно зад Лионската гара този старец си запушваше ушите, за да не чуе един клошар, който отказваше да го посъветва, че трябва да премести с една дупка по-ниско изпадналото копче на долните си гащи.


СИНКОПА

К‘чих се на ав‘буса по наш‘та линия и – к‘во? – гле‘ам ня‘къв н‘ам к‘ъв си да се на‘фърля на друг н‘ам к‘ъв си, че му пра‘ел н‘ам к‘во си. И оти‘е да се‘не.
Сле два са‘ата пред Сен ‚азар го гле‘ам с ня‘къв пр‘ател, който му да‘аше н‘ам к‘во си за не‘овата дре‘а.


БОТАНИЧЕСКО

След като пуснах корени от чакане под налятата слънчогледова пита, аз се насадих на една тиквичка край пътя. О се натъкнах на избуяла кратуна, чийто лимоненожълт плод стърчеше с увита около него лиана. Този ми ти пипон наряза като кисела краставичка някакъв репон, който му тъпчел лехите и му газел лука. Обаче за да не вади кестените от огъна, той бързо си обра крушите и цъфна в един парцел за лично ползване.
По-късно го видях на селския пазар, направен на бъзе и коприва, понеже имаше на палтото си нещо, което не беше цвете за мирисане.


ГЕОМЕТРИЧНО

В един паралелепипед, придвижен по вектор, изразен с уравнението 84 x + y = C, суингосуидът А, представляващ полусфера с две описани върху нея окръжности, като радиусът на всяка окръжност е по-малък от радиуса на полусферата, има допирателна с обикновения хомоид B. Да се докаже, че точката на допиране е и точка на отблъскване.
Ако суингосуидът А се пресече със суингосуида X, тогава точката на допиране се намира в окръжност от радиус, по-малък от споменатите. Да се намери проекцията на допирната точка спрямо вертикалната ос на суингосуида А.


*И тези преводачи са чудо на природата.

[Dagio_maya · Rating 5 out of 5]

Un testo breve e semplice:

”Sulla S, in un’ora di traffico. Un tipo di circa ventisei anni, cappello floscio con una cordicella al posto del nastro, collo troppo lungo, come se glielo avessero tirato. La gente scende. Il tizio in questione si arrabbia con un vicino.
Gli rimprovera di spingerlo ogni volta che passa qualcuno. Tono lamentoso, con pretese di cattiveria. Non appena vede un posto libero, vi si butta. Due ore piú tardi lo incontro alla Cour de Rome, davanti alla Gare Saint-Lazare. È con un amico che gli dice: «Dovresti far mettere un bottone in piú al soprabito». Gli fa vedere dove (alla sciancratura) e perché.”


Novantanove esercizi di riscrittura di questa scenetta.
Novantanove variazioni stilistiche che vanno dalla retorica all’enigmistica, dallo spostamento di soggetti all’impreziosirsi dei vocaboli, dall’inversione dei fatti oppure l’esatto contrario di ciò che è successo e tanto altro
E perché no?
Anche in versi liberi:


”L’ autobus
pieno
il cuore
vuoto il collo lungo il nastro
a treccia
i piedi piatti
piatti e appiattiti
il posto vuoto
e l’inatteso incontro alla stazione dai mille fuochi spenti di quel cuore, di quel collo, di quel nastro, di quei piedi, di quel posto vuoto
e di quel
bottone.”


Divertente? Di più: geniale

[Elina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ενα εξαιρετικά πρωτότυπο ανάγνωσμα όπου ο συγγραφέας χρησιμοποιεί 99 διαφορετικούς τρόπους να εκφράσει μια ανούσια μικρή ιστορία. Μπορεί κανείς να το διαβάσει σε 10 διαφορετικά μέρη, σαλόνι, κουζίνα, αναγνωστήριο, τουαλέτα κλπ. καθώς και με άπειρους τρόπους ανάσκελα, καθιστά, όρθια, τρέχοντας, περπατώντας κλπ. Πολύ ενδιαφέρον αν κάποιος σκέφτεται να ξεκινήσει τη συγγραφή βιβλίου ή να κάνει καριέρα στην πολιτική. Εν κατακλείδι το ξεκίνησα με μεγάλη χαρά και ενδιαφέρον, κάπου στη μέση άρχισα να γυρνάω τις σελίδες λίγο πιο γρήγορα και στο τέλος είχα εμπαιδώσει σε άριστο βαθμό την πραγματικά παντελώς ανούσια ιστορία. Πέρα από την πλάκα αξίζει να διαβαστεί...

[Djali · Rating 5 out of 5]

Uno dei libri più geniali e divertenti che io abbia mai letto! Chapeau a Eco per la traduzione.

[Introverticheart · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mon Dieu, cóż to była za zabawa do łez!
99 ćwiczeń stylistycznych aż głowa mała.

Nie sądziłem, że język może mieć aż tyle chwytów retorycznych!

C'est très génial !

[أحمد هاني · Rating 4 out of 5]

خفيف مبدع مضحك
الخلاصة
"…او قد يكون التدوين هنا بالمعنى الموسيقي ،تدوين موسيقي ،في هذه الحال قد نكون أمام احتمالات أخرى عديدة أحدها تدوين مقطوعة سردية ثم عزفها بأكثر من إيقاع .."