The Beauty of the Death Cap

by Catherine Dousteyssier-Khoze, Tina Kover (Translator)

Nikonor is an eccentric and scholarly snob, a mycomaniac who has just made it to the Château de la Charlanne where he spent his childhood in the company of his twin sister, Anastasie. After all these years, it is not quite clear what brings him back to la Charlanne--an isolated and somewhat derelict castle located in the heart of the French countryside--but he is keen to share various memories with the reader in order to 'set the record straight', while he delivers his opinions on literature, cheeses, and, especially, mushrooms.

Winner of both a Prix André Dubreuil and a Prix Fondation Prince Pierre de Monaco upon its original publication in France, The Beauty of the Death Cap is a darkly comic and sinister novel, a work that, page by page, becomes ever more disturbing, as we try to discover who Nikonor really is.

Genres: Fiction

152 pages, Paperback

First published August 26, 2015

About the author

Catherine Dousteyssier-Khoze is Professor / Deputy Head of School in the School of Modern Languages and Cultures in French at Durham University.

She specializes in (19th-century) French literature and French film, and is particularly interested in the relationship between word and image at the end of Nineteenth-Century France, especially in the cross-fertilization between literature and visual and popular culture (pantomime, circus, posters).

She is also the author of a début novel, 'La logique de l'amanite' which won both the Prix André Dubreuil du Premier Roman awarded by the Société des Gens de Lettres (December 2015) and the Prix Fondation Prince Pierre de Monaco "coup de coeur des lycéens" (October 2016).

Reviews

[Forrest · Rating 5 out of 5]

I admit that I have a certain soft-spot for "plotless" books. And while The Beauty of the Death Cap isn't completely plotless, the plot is a mere wisp, a skeleton or an apparition, if you will. But it's barely necessary in this book.

The central conceit of the book is the gradual peeling away of layers around the ultimately sociopathic Nikonor (a name of a "certain Slavic, vaguely menacing quality"), his various career pursuits, love of mycology, and his paranoia, engendered by his twin sister. This is all done in a tongue in cheek manner, but by the end, we realize that the tongue is boring completely through the cheek and exposing a bloody mess. It's not a horror book, nor a psychological thriller; no, this one really does defy categorization. You hear that about many books, but this one means it. I can't think of any subgenre in which this book comfortably sits outside of grim humor, and that's not really a genre so much as an attitude. And The Beauty of the Death Cap has that attitude in spades.

This isn't some clumsy, oafish attempt at morbid slapstick, though. Any book that begins by quoting Pliny the Elder either can't take itself seriously or is full of sinister deceit. Or both. I learned the hard way that here it was both.

Take a look at my limited notes:

I do appreciate a good, mildly-neurotic narrator.

I absolutely love this snarky, secretly-insecure narrative voice.

Just keeps getting drenched in gentlemanly insidiousness. I love the narrative voice, but despise the narrator. Okay, who am I kidding? I love the narrator, though I should despise him.

What's so grimly beautiful about this book is the progression one sees in Nikonor's revelations. The old analogy of peeling onions is apt. One could be moved to tears by the recognition of the narrator's growing (or is it just more and more obvious?) psychosis. And it stinks and stings, but you just can't help but keep digging deeper, like you're some kind of OCD psychiatrist who has to see what makes this man tick.

Or you just have a morbid curiosity. Okay, let's face it, it's the latter. We can't wait to see the ultimate end to this oncoming train wreck. We have to stay till the end. We are, as they say, "completists".

Along the road (strewn with bodies in our wake), we get some deliciously devious and understated gems, such as this:

I have long been in the habit of cooking for myself, which is useful when one lives in autarky. This way, I am not forced to depend on a sullen, nosy, or preachy cook. Marie came back to work for me for a few months after my mother moved to Creuse (three or four years after my father's death), but I must admit that the co-habitation did not proceed smoothly. Age had embittered her; she muttered constantly under her breath and had to be handled with kid gloves. She talked endlessly about Anastasie in the most outrageously hagiographic terms, and had the further audacity to ask me completely inappropriate questions about old Legrandin (I wonder if she hadn't carried something of a torch for him in her youth) and, in the evenings, after dinner, she had acquired the habit of wandering morosely - and suspiciously - down to the fishpond.

Claiming that I was spending more and more time in Paris, I eventually dismissed her completely, sweetening the deal with a goodly sum to ensure her a comfortable retirement (and assure me of her eternal gratitude). Thus we parted on the very best of terms; I even went so far as to accompany her to the train station in Ussel. Just as she was climbing with astonishing agility into her compartment, I surprised her with one last parting gift: a packet of the dried parasol mushrooms she loved so much.

And so Marie returned to her native Indre, and I never heard anything of her again (I must also admit that I have never been in the habit of following the obituaries in the various regional newspapers too closely).

And so it goes. On and on in a similar vein until things really come to a head and the plot resolves.

But, really, the plot is just a side issue. I can take it or leave it.

I love how Catherine Dousteyssier-Khoze turns the banal into the fantastical, but without any truly outre methodology. Perhaps this is reflective of the psychoactive qualities of some mushrooms. Common fungus, really, until you eat one. It reminds me of Max Blecher's Adventures in Immediate Irreality a bit, or Roland Topor's The Tenant, but with a more gentlemanly approach (I use the term very loosely). Dousteyssier-Khoze nudges the imagination, just barely, but it's enough to push the reader into phantasmagoria, even without such things explicitly appearing on the page.

It just seems appropriate that the push into morbid fantasy would not take place via ink on the paper of the book, but in the reader's head.

Which might say something about the reader.

[S̶e̶a̶n̶ · Rating 5 out of 5]

Catherine Dousteyssier-Khoze's debut novel from Snuggly Books won me over from the first page. Nikonor is a charmingly unreliable narrator in a murky line of work, the details of which he slowly reveals in increasingly less delicate terms. These details are woven together in Nikonor's 'memoir' with lofty flights of prose, chiefly oriented toward Nikonor's passions: mainly mushrooms, and to a lesser extent other of the finer things in life such as good cheese, fine wine, and last but not least, high-quality literature. Incidentally, this is the first novel I've read in which Julien Gracq has been name-checked, specifically his dark debut novel Château d'Argol, which Nikonor counts among his own literary influences. Coming across that reference only reinforced the sensation that I was in pleasantly familiar territory. Nikonor is one of those characters in literature who cannily legitimizes misanthropy and the hermit lifestyle, winning over readers with his erudition, wit, and breezy confidence, even as he gradually begins to share his dark side. Those readers who enjoy narrators with similar qualities employed by writers such as Vladimir Nabokov and Thomas Bernhard should particularly enjoy this novel. Highly recommended.

[Patrick.G.P · Rating 4 out of 5]

Elegant, funny, and sardonic prose covering the inner thoughts and “true” confessions of Nikonor, aesthete, dilettante, and psychopath. Starting with his lifelong obsession with mushrooms, classical literature, and a clear image of himself as an unrecognized genius, the narrative quickly becomes quite dark and morbid. Nikonor’s unreliability and snobbish ways are delectable and Dousteyssier-Khoze prose is fraught with both meta-commentary and devilishly sly humour. The novel falters a bit in its main section but the inevitable denouement is excellent.

[Bill Hsu · Rating 4 out of 5]

See Sean's review. This is the funniest novel I've read in ages; so black.

[Marianne Taylor · Rating 5 out of 5]

5 Stars 🌟

Picked this up on a whim in the waterstones sale, and boy, am I glad I did. The Beauty of the Death Cap is a translation of a French novel (translated excellently, may I say). In essence, it's a plot light character study of a psychopath who really likes mushrooms (to study not to eat).

We follow Nikonors somewhat rambley telling of his life through which he reveals to us sinister clues of what he has spent his 'career' doing. Usually, I dislike books that are told through a characters stream of consciousness, but this one really worked for me. Being able to pick apart passages and take some disturbing connotations was very satisfying as a reader.

This book is also beautifully written. The language it uses is fittingly sophisticated and really adds to the books overall vibe. I'm fairly sure my vocabulary has expanded post read.

I definitely recommend this. It's short, but I split it up into 3 sections of roughly 50 pages to allow myself time to fully digest sections. I found this worked well.

[Obumbro · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Beauty of the Death Cap, Catherine Dousteyssier-Khoze's debut novella, introduces us to Nikonor Pierre de la Chatanne, eccentric scion of a genteely impoverished family living at their chateau in the Dordogne. Told entirely from Nikonor's perspective, the novella is a stream-of-consciousness memoir (or perhaps confessional would be a better word), spanning the period from his birth in the 1920s to some time around the new millenium where Nikonor waits, with all the ease of Roderick Usher, for the imminent return of his estranged sister.

Dousteyssier-Khoze clues us in fairly quickly that something unusual is afoot. Unlike memoirs centered on reflections of specific events and human interactions, Nikonor's is entirely focused on relating odd bits of trivia from his cabinet of curiosities mind; a mélange of obscura he’s hunted down as assiduously, among other things, as his beloved cep mushroom. The charm of The Beauty of the Death Cap is in the synergy between these fascinating tidbits and how Nikonor doles them out with a raconteur’s precision, fusing observations with outrageous Wildean quips that simultaneously reveal his own snobbishness and self-absorption. (One of the novella’s drolleries is that it includes footnotes, which the reader at first may think has been supplied by the book’s editor or translator, but are in fact by Nikonor: He knows that you don’t know what he’s talking about.) Meanwhile, a very criminal story of increasingly sinister proportions slowly unfolds in the background.

If there’s anything in the novella that detracts, it will be entirely dependent on the reader’s subjective reaction to Nikonor and the story’s repetitive arrangement of arcane facts, scandalous asides, and macabre hints. It’s a single, incessantly played chord that clues us in that The Beauty of the Death Cap won’t be making any detours into the humor-turned-pathos of Lorrain’s Monsieur de Bougrelon (whose titular character is as flamboyant a storyteller as Nikonor), the abivalent tension of Highsmith’s The Talented Mr Ripley, or the wicked satire of Ellis’s American Psycho. Nikonor may be an heir to a long line of first-person narrators who hold the reader with their glittering eye and charmed tongue, but we quickly begin to suspect there’s no trajectory to his tale other than the enjoyment of his (and Dousteyssier-Khoze's) fascinating and entertaining trove of knowledge.

[Sarada · Rating 4 out of 5]

An incredible little book that seems almost custom made for my particular tastes, to the point where I worry a little about myself and what this might say about me. Lovers of decadent and symbolist fiction, specializers in obscure knowledge, and misanthropic hermits will all share in a particular glee with the narrator, who lingers lovingly on descriptions of poisonous mushrooms when he is not describing the unfortunate “accidents” that befall those who irritate him. The chapter of “Q&A” with the narrator about his favorite and least favorite things is especially enjoyable. I love the author on principle, for the specialized fields of knowledge that writing this required. I am also inspired to get out a couple books that it references that I haven’t read in a long time (or at all!).

[Nadirah · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the kind of book that Eldon Stammets would have written if he had the inclination and the time for it. Witty and wonderfully written, though if you're looking for a mystery whodunnit book with an actual plot, you might want to look elsewhere. Fans of black humor literature would likely appreciate this dive into the mind of a psychopath with posh pretense - a mask if there ever was one - and a penchant for mushrooms (purely from the aesthetics point-of-view, mind you).

[Seregil of Rhiminee · Rating 5 out of 5]

Originally published at Risingshadow.

Catherine Dousteyssier-Khoze's The Beauty of the Death Cap (original title: La Logique de l'amanite, translated by Tina Kover) is an enthralling piece of literary beauty. It's an engaging and beautifully written tale that combines elements of subtle humour, wittiness, mystery, dread and literary fiction.

The Beauty of the Death Cap is told from the protagonist's point of view in a stream of consciousness style. This narrative mode works perfectly in this story, because it evokes a sense of mystery and quiet terror that lingers on the reader's mind.

From the very first chapter the reader is subjected to events that give clues about something unusual and strange. As the story begins to unfold, the narrator reveals bits and pieces about his life and tells of curious and disquieting incidents that gradually reveal what kind of a man he is and what he has done.

The Beauty of the Death Cap tells of Nikonor Pierre de la Charlanne who is an eccentric, scholarly snob and mycomaniac. He has undertaken to write a memoir. He has made his way to the isolated castle, the Château de la Charlanne, where he spent his childhood with his twin sister, Anastasie. There, he waits for his sister, whom he believes is trying to kill him.

Nikonor is described as a self-righteous person and a kind of a misanthrope who is detached from humanity. As Nikonor he tells his story, he gradually reveals his dark side and tells of what has befallen those who have annoyed him. His descriptions of the finer things in life (literature etc) are fascinating and tell of his interests and focal points.

The author paints a vivid picture of Nikonor's fascination with mushrooms and how he became intrigued by them. I think that nobody can forget the scene in which young Nikonor finds a cep in the forest and what happens immediately after this discovery. The author also tells of Nikonor's relationship with his parents and twin sister. What happens between Nikonor and his father is handled excellently. It's also interesting to read about how Nikonor disapproves of his sister's boyfriend.

I found Nikonor's interest in the ancient Greek poet, physician and grammarian, Nicander of Colophon, intriguing. His musings on Nicander's Alexipharmaca, which consists of 630 hexameters treating of poisons and their antidotes, were fascinating.

The prose is gorgeous and impressive. I like the author's writing style, because she excels at writing in a stream of consciousness style. I was also taken by her knowledge about mushrooms: she writes excellently about mushrooms and their toxicity (if you ever thought that mycology is boring, this book proves you wrong).

The translation by Tina Kover is excellent. It's one of the most skillful translations I've ever encountered, because the translator has paid attention to many details and maintained the beauty of the original story.

I think that this story will greatly appeal to readers who are familiar with the British black comedy film The Young Poisoner's Handbook and have read works by Jean Lorrain and Brendan Connell.

Catherine Dousteyssier-Khoze's The Beauty of the Death Cap is a rare literary treasure for readers who appreciate beautiful prose and intricate stories. This book will charm readers with its mycological elements and a revealing glimpse into the protagonist's strange mind and self-absorped nature. In a certain way, this book feels like a nod towards Decadent and Symbolist fiction, and that's why it should be read by lovers of literary fiction.

Highly recommended!

[xenia · Rating 2 out of 5]

What if Elliot Rodger was fixated on mushrooms rather than women?

If you've met a single man*, you've read this book. It's windbag fiction. A dude talking at you, thinking he's intelligent because he's read the classics, while having no social skills, no capacity to read the room, to emotionally engage with another person's experience other than his own, and then blaming that failure of engagement on the other rather than himself. It's pathetic, and while this book can be amusing at times (the mc is clueless and inept despite his erudition), I'm so over it. Why do we platform these people? They're anti-social losers who are too fragile for self-reflection so they lash out at others.

To return to Elliott Roger**, can you imagine if this incel actually engaged with, oh I don't know, a single feminist book, and realised that his complaints about being a loser virgin gentlemen in a system stacked against him had already been articulated by feminists half a century ago? And that the point is to decolonise your mind of beauty standards imparted by the cosmetic-fashion-media industrial complex, not become completely crippled by and beholden to them as an eternal beta of the sunless room? Like, fuck man, all it world take is a single good faith engagement, but men.

*Yes yes, not all men, blah blah. I use this term the same way people use the term boomer—to describe a set of behaviours, a performative cascade that flows through our cultural nets to ensnare us in the tradition of all dead generations.

**Yes yes, this book isn't about an incel, but the mc is a fedora-tipping coomer, every sentence another 'I'm a perfect gentleman, and yet they spurn me!' living alone, obsessed with his sister, constantly coping in his delusional mushroom mmorpg world (mycology academia), whose other inhabitants, ironically, reject him as well. Absolute dummy coomer energy.

[Furious Gazelle · Rating 4 out of 5]

Who knew mushrooms could be so fascinating?

In The Beauty of the Death Cap, Nikonor, the eccentric narrator, states, “I have always preferred the company of trees and mushrooms to that of my fellow humans.” That is the gist of the book. With a wry sense of humor, Nikonor takes us on a rolling journey through his life in mushrooms. He is obsessed with fungi, and has made them his life’s work. The people he meets are another story.

Author Catherine Dousteyssier-Khoze gives us a Nabokovian narrator in Nikonor. The prose is gorgeous, with lines shifting back and forth between French and English that verge on poetry (“Encore que . . . suddenly I am seized with doubt!”). He slowly unveils a narrative, distracted along the way by tangents on everything from mushrooms to Charles Baudelaire’s missed calling as a nature poet, all with a surprisingly sharp sense of humor and a pretentious air. He speaks of death and murder as coldly and carelessly as if he were talking about picking a mushroom, musing things like, “I am a lone wolf by nature. I made the mistake of taking on a partner only once, and the attempt ended in an abject failure—one from which my associate did not recover.”

Ostensibly, Nikonor is laying out his life’s story and describing the path that led him to his crimes, but Death Cap is more about the journey than the destination. The work is verbally rich: there are descriptions of mycology that are equally poetic and scientific. Translator Tina Kover did an excellent job of capturing the language and humor of the book (you can read about her process in our Q&A with her). She blends French, English, and scientific terminology seamlessly: “All this time that mygalomorph spider has been lying in wait, crouched in some hole somewhere, watching for the right opportunity to strike, to annihilate me once and for all, une bonne fois pour toutes.”

At a slim 150 pages, Beauty of the Death Cap is a quick, engaging read. It would make an excellent holiday gift for fans of Lolita’s Humbert Humbert, or anyone who loves language and has a dry sense of humor.

[Crippled_ships · Rating 4 out of 5]

[Will write a review shortly!]

[Jeff · Rating 4 out of 5]

I don't participate much in social media (much too creepy overall), but if Goodreads can be considered social media, then it does have its rewards, such as discovering new books through reviews from other readers. The Beauty of the Death Cap is one such, and prompted by fascinating reviews from Forrest and Sean, I had to give this one a read.

Catherine Dousteyssier-Khoze's debut novel takes the form of a memoir, and where the narrator initially seems merely egoistic and snobbish, the reader soon discovers there's quite a bit more to Nikonor Pierre de la Charlanne. At first, hints of an unseemly personal history appear to be the result of an inflated self-image and an overactive imagination, but as the novel progresses, it becomes clear that Nikonor has indeed done some vile things in his life.

As those revelations emerge, the reader experiences a darkly humorous portrait of a rather nasty individual. As Sean said in his review, "Nikonor is one of those characters in literature who cannily legitimizes misanthropy and the hermit lifestyle." All too true, and what an experience it was for me to briefly enter the mind of the narrator, and safely escape at the end of the novel. Whether I've been permanently tainted by my journey with Nikonor remains to be seen, but it was a great read all the same.

[Caroline Drew · Rating 4 out of 5]

don’t always fall for paranoid, self-aggrandizing men but this book sure did it wonderfully. fascinating amalgamation of styles and influences!

[David · Rating 5 out of 5]

Perfect decadence - highly recommended. The character’s voice is irresistible as the story enticingly unfolds. Excellent translation as well.

[Martine · Rating 4 out of 5]

Récit déstabilisant et assez stupefiant d’un homme qui cultive le secret. Tout est dit à demi-mot, rien n’est jamais vraiment confirmé.
On devine une nature sociopathe, narcissique, perverse, paranoïaque, d’une fierté bourgeoise - voire noble - écœurante et affligé d’une rivalité fraternelle difficilement égalable (entre deux sessions de lecture, je suis tombée par hasard sur un épisode d’Esprit Criminel sur le thème, donc j’avais un point de comparaison bienvenu) mais on ne connait pas l’état mental réel du narrateur. Désillusion, sénilité ou enjolivement dans le but de choquer ou de se mettre en avant ?

L’écriture est belle et traduit bien le narcissisme et le tiraillement entre la vantardise et le besoin de secret, mais pour la lectrice que je suis, c’est parfois irritant car rien n’est clairement dit, et on ne peut que se demander si on a bien mis le doigt au bon endroit tant les pistes sont nombreuses.

[Vultural · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dousteyssier-Khoze, Catherine - The Beauty Of The Death Cap.

A book I never would have bought, let alone read, and yet it was part of Snuggly's "occult bundle."

The book is a first person memoir. Not a confession. No, our narrator, Nikonor, is much too engrossed admiring himself in the looking glass to bother with confession.

He is a mycologist, and an obvious know-it-all.
Nikonor is charming, funny too, in a dark manner.

One cannot help but feel sorry for him as so many around him have meet with rather unfortunate events. Family, colleagues, even strangers who have wandered onto his property.

While Nikonor is a shining example of boundless self esteem, he does tend to complain a bit.
Times are not what they were, standards across the board are slipping.
In real life, such lamentations come more from elderly folk, rambling about the good ole days. As if anyone cares.
Whining on and on and on, until you want to kick them and their cane in front of the bus.

Being a fictional character (one hopes), you can keep Mr Nikonor at arms length, although his comments do tend to worm into your psyche.

It almost inspires me to slip some tasteless castor oil into my coworker's bottled water.