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Death Of The Author
Part murder mystery and all jet-black satire, and based on a real life scandal, this edgy novella tells the story of Léopold Sfax, world-renowned as the creator of "The Theory"—a bizarre literary theory that grew from an intellectual folly to a dominant school of criticism that enslaved college campuses across the country. However, The Theory, which holds that the text of any piece of writing tells us all that we need to know about its author (as if the author himself is "dead") takes on extra perversity when the revered—or is it feared?—Sfax is found to have once written something that seems...well, murderously revealing. In the hands of Gilbert Adair, it's a dexterously wrought and hysterically devilish look at academic cultishness. It's also a taut metaphysical murder mystery that confounds the reader's expectations on almost every page and reserves its most stunning surprise—the ultimate whodunit twist—for the very last page.
144 pages, Paperback
First published August 20, 1992
1 person is currently reading
533 people want to read
About the author
Gilbert Adair
45 books160 followersGilbert Adair was a Scottish novelist, poet, film critic and journalist. Born in Edinburgh, he lived in Paris from 1968 through 1980. He is most famous for such novels as Love and Death on Long Island (1997) and The Dreamers (2003), both of which were made into films, although he is also noted as the translator of Georges Perec's postmodern novel A Void, in which the letter e is not used. Adair won the 1995 Scott Moncrieff Translation Prize for this work.
In 1998 and 1999 Adair was the chief film critic for The Independent on Sunday, where in 1999 he also wrote a year-long column called "The Guillotine." In addition to the films made from his own works, Adair worked on the screenplays for a number of Raúl Ruiz films. Although he rarely spoke of his sexual orientation in public, not wishing to be labelled, he acknowledge in an interview that there were many gay themes in his work. He died from a brain hemorrhage in 2011.
(source: Wikipedia)
In 1998 and 1999 Adair was the chief film critic for The Independent on Sunday, where in 1999 he also wrote a year-long column called "The Guillotine." In addition to the films made from his own works, Adair worked on the screenplays for a number of Raúl Ruiz films. Although he rarely spoke of his sexual orientation in public, not wishing to be labelled, he acknowledge in an interview that there were many gay themes in his work. He died from a brain hemorrhage in 2011.
(source: Wikipedia)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 31 reviews
August 5, 2016
Adair Devil in an Aporetic Cul-de-Sac
Roland Barthes published the essay "The Death of the Author" in 1967:
"To give a text an author is to impose a limit on that text, to furnish it with a final signified, to close the writing."
A living autocratic author kills the text. The role of a reader is to resurrect the text, to liberate it from “interpretive tyranny”, whether it is dictated by the author, academics or other readers.
Needless to say, the theory was opposed in America. Even Camille Paglia wrote stridently:
“Most pernicious of French imports [into American academia] is the notion that there is no person behind a text. Is there anything more affected, aggressive, and relentlessly concrete than a Parisian intellectual behind his/her turgid text? The Parisian is a provincial when he pretends to speak for the universe.”
One such import is Adair’s fictional Professor Leo Sfax, the originator of "The Theory". Another real one is the Belgian critic, Paul de Man, upon whose life Sfax is based.
Both had a secret past of collaboration with the German occupation of France and Belgium respectively. Both died before they were found out. But ultimately, they were found out. Well, de Man was. But was Sfax?
Adair's novel “The Death of the Author” purports to be written by Sfax. It sits, apparently, perhaps even now, on his Apple Mac. It documents his quest to kill the Author, himself, apparently, in order to hide his secret.
It discloses a motive for suicide. It also discloses a motive for a murder by one of the characters in the novel (or is it a work of non-fiction?)
Is it an attempt to incriminate an innocent character? Is it simply trying to preserve the reputation of the Author? Did a conniving fictional character make it all up? If so, was it the Author character or another character?
Was it Astrid, his biographer and a specialist in the Gender of Omniscience, or Ralph, her jealous boyfriend? Is the Author alive and trapped in this work of fiction?
What is death anyway? Is death just a literary or linguistic predicament? Can a linguistic construct die? If the Author is dead, then long live their book and all the characters who sail within. Is this a mendacious and mischievous and meaningless book? Of course .
Is it a great read? You bet!
VERSE:
Either/Awe
I say Yeats, you say Yeets,
You say Kates, I say Keats.
Either/Or,
Neither/Gnaw.
Let's call this thing Karloff,
Lest it be called Carl Orff.
So if you go your way,
Most likely, I'll go mine.
The Rebirth of Theory
Now that God's dead,
The Author's next.
Theory, it's said,
Don't be perplexed,
Will fill your head
Like Moby Text.
Astrid’s Legs
I gazed, while her legs,
Crossed sheer and scissory,
Fought my misery.
Astrid’s Proposition
Dear Professor
Leo Sfax,
I have here a
Proposition.
I hope it’s not
Ridiculous.
I’m sure you
Won’t reject it,
When you see me
Knickerless.
It might advance
My career,
If I could write
Your bio,
So would you please
Collaborate?
If you’ll agree,
I’ll guarantee
That it will be
Swastikaless.
Review of "Love and Death on Long Island"
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Giles de'Ath, the narrator of "Love and Death", is referred to as a disciple of Professor Leo Sfax.
Roland Barthes published the essay "The Death of the Author" in 1967:
"To give a text an author is to impose a limit on that text, to furnish it with a final signified, to close the writing."
A living autocratic author kills the text. The role of a reader is to resurrect the text, to liberate it from “interpretive tyranny”, whether it is dictated by the author, academics or other readers.
Needless to say, the theory was opposed in America. Even Camille Paglia wrote stridently:
“Most pernicious of French imports [into American academia] is the notion that there is no person behind a text. Is there anything more affected, aggressive, and relentlessly concrete than a Parisian intellectual behind his/her turgid text? The Parisian is a provincial when he pretends to speak for the universe.”
One such import is Adair’s fictional Professor Leo Sfax, the originator of "The Theory". Another real one is the Belgian critic, Paul de Man, upon whose life Sfax is based.
Both had a secret past of collaboration with the German occupation of France and Belgium respectively. Both died before they were found out. But ultimately, they were found out. Well, de Man was. But was Sfax?
Adair's novel “The Death of the Author” purports to be written by Sfax. It sits, apparently, perhaps even now, on his Apple Mac. It documents his quest to kill the Author, himself, apparently, in order to hide his secret.
It discloses a motive for suicide. It also discloses a motive for a murder by one of the characters in the novel (or is it a work of non-fiction?)
Is it an attempt to incriminate an innocent character? Is it simply trying to preserve the reputation of the Author? Did a conniving fictional character make it all up? If so, was it the Author character or another character?
Was it Astrid, his biographer and a specialist in the Gender of Omniscience, or Ralph, her jealous boyfriend? Is the Author alive and trapped in this work of fiction?
What is death anyway? Is death just a literary or linguistic predicament? Can a linguistic construct die? If the Author is dead, then long live their book and all the characters who sail within. Is this a mendacious and mischievous and meaningless book? Of course .
Is it a great read? You bet!
VERSE:
Either/Awe
I say Yeats, you say Yeets,
You say Kates, I say Keats.
Either/Or,
Neither/Gnaw.
Let's call this thing Karloff,
Lest it be called Carl Orff.
So if you go your way,
Most likely, I'll go mine.
The Rebirth of Theory
Now that God's dead,
The Author's next.
Theory, it's said,
Don't be perplexed,
Will fill your head
Like Moby Text.
Astrid’s Legs
I gazed, while her legs,
Crossed sheer and scissory,
Fought my misery.
Astrid’s Proposition
Dear Professor
Leo Sfax,
I have here a
Proposition.
I hope it’s not
Ridiculous.
I’m sure you
Won’t reject it,
When you see me
Knickerless.
It might advance
My career,
If I could write
Your bio,
So would you please
Collaborate?
If you’ll agree,
I’ll guarantee
That it will be
Swastikaless.
Review of "Love and Death on Long Island"
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Giles de'Ath, the narrator of "Love and Death", is referred to as a disciple of Professor Leo Sfax.
February 11, 2014
My self-appointed biographer Graham Golden approached me last night, casually “warning” me that his biography had found a publisher (Nonentity Books), and that collusion was “within my best interests.” I ignored his impertinent message and sat down at my Toshiba to type the forty-eight words you have read (as of the word “read”), and the following confession.
As a reviewer, I have encased my fair share of skeletons, and it is Golden’s intention to expose my moments of weakness to reduce my standing in the GR ratings by at least two or three career-flattening places. I would like to recount them here, and ask my mullions of followers to look beyond these and focus on the work I have produced since then. When I left university in 2008, I became friends with a group of neo-nazi book reviewers, whose purpose was to promote Mein Kampf on popular reviewing sites. I created over a hundred accounts, and wrote numerous reviews in praise of Hitler’s incoherent rant, signing off each review with an all-caps promotion of neo-nazi activities the world over, usually HEIL HITLER AND PRAISE THE FATHERS WHEREVER THEY LAND. I was paid over one hundred pounds per review, so saw no harm in spreading idiotic propaganda if my identity remained a secret. I was then approached by pro-Bush reviewers, and to my eternal shame, I wrote five-star reviews of Republican books such as Gorgeous George: Intimate Portraits, a collection of photographs of Dubya holding his chin and appearing as pensive as his simian melon would permit, and Damned if I Do, a 900-page moral treatise defending each of Dubya’s moral transgressions, using a waffling logic drawing on quotes from Machiavelli, Rand, and Al Capp. It was only when I encountered the reviews of Manny Rayner did I realise the error of my ways, and abandoned my fascist activities. Since then, I have penned no propagandist reviews and devoted myself to the promotion of exemplary world literature using the extremely digestible capsule format.
When Golden’s biography is released, I hope you will be strong enough to ignore his exaggerations and see beyond his desperate intentions (to increase his own ratings and garner 1000 more likes on his Oliver Twist review).
As a reviewer, I have encased my fair share of skeletons, and it is Golden’s intention to expose my moments of weakness to reduce my standing in the GR ratings by at least two or three career-flattening places. I would like to recount them here, and ask my mullions of followers to look beyond these and focus on the work I have produced since then. When I left university in 2008, I became friends with a group of neo-nazi book reviewers, whose purpose was to promote Mein Kampf on popular reviewing sites. I created over a hundred accounts, and wrote numerous reviews in praise of Hitler’s incoherent rant, signing off each review with an all-caps promotion of neo-nazi activities the world over, usually HEIL HITLER AND PRAISE THE FATHERS WHEREVER THEY LAND. I was paid over one hundred pounds per review, so saw no harm in spreading idiotic propaganda if my identity remained a secret. I was then approached by pro-Bush reviewers, and to my eternal shame, I wrote five-star reviews of Republican books such as Gorgeous George: Intimate Portraits, a collection of photographs of Dubya holding his chin and appearing as pensive as his simian melon would permit, and Damned if I Do, a 900-page moral treatise defending each of Dubya’s moral transgressions, using a waffling logic drawing on quotes from Machiavelli, Rand, and Al Capp. It was only when I encountered the reviews of Manny Rayner did I realise the error of my ways, and abandoned my fascist activities. Since then, I have penned no propagandist reviews and devoted myself to the promotion of exemplary world literature using the extremely digestible capsule format.
When Golden’s biography is released, I hope you will be strong enough to ignore his exaggerations and see beyond his desperate intentions (to increase his own ratings and garner 1000 more likes on his Oliver Twist review).
August 3, 2008
This book might be a great summer reading book for people who hate the books that are called beach reading. Or maybe a great book for people who hate the beach, most likely because they are kind of pale, and probably find the idea of sitting in the sand and having the sun beat down on you as a form of torture and not as an enjoyable way to spend the day. Who decided anyway that summer / beach books should be the most moronic and low grade type of fiction there is anyway? Are people supposed to get dumber when the heat rises? Or is it that one would have so little to do while sitting on the beach that one would actually enjoy having a half-baked plot that would be barely tolerable watching it in a ninety minute movie turn be dragged out for a few hundred pages, and take up more than ninety minutes of one's time.
Digression over.
This book is for people who think they are very smart because they have wasted a good portion of their lives reading people like Focault, Derrida, Baudrillard and Barthes and would now find it amusing to read a satire of French Theory, complete with Murder!!!!! I for one found it quite amusing, and would much rather read it again than sit in the sand for even one minute in the sun.
Digression over.
This book is for people who think they are very smart because they have wasted a good portion of their lives reading people like Focault, Derrida, Baudrillard and Barthes and would now find it amusing to read a satire of French Theory, complete with Murder!!!!! I for one found it quite amusing, and would much rather read it again than sit in the sand for even one minute in the sun.
May 9, 2015
UPDATE: Verbivoracious Festschrift Volume Two: Gilbert Adair features a delightful meeting of contributor minds and material - the debonair Adair - and from the contribution concerning this work of his, a small extract:
"Gilbert Adair’s Death of the Author has long been regarded as one of his masterpieces. What readers and critics have either disdained or ignored, through a seeming lack of perspicacity or a willful avoidance and misconstrual of textual hints and contrivances, in a manner reflecting the very subject matter and the protagonist around whom the story develops, such that the void of comment represents the absence suggesting presence, is the actuality of this novella being a mistresspeace, a homage to the one woman he truly admired, and dare it be said, loved. . ."
***
"It's a skilful and savage performance, with twists which one shouldn't reveal. And the central idea, that killing the Author is harder than it looks, has to be simply true. What has happened is that He is now unmasked, cavorting on the page along with the other characters; not an omniscient, anonymous figure, but a lying, local and irresponsible 'I'." - Lorna Sage, Independent on Sunday
Bloody. Brilliant. Beautiful.
The most fun you'll have on a Sunday snorting at a fictionalised account of the theory* behind le nouveau roman, deconstructionism, (a few other isms including the dirty little secret that is anti-Semitism), the literary establishment and iconic ivories, the making and unmaking of reputations, replete (naturally) with the requisite blonde bombshell. All coated in exquisitely delightful (or tongue-in-cheek curlicued) prose served up on a genre whodunnit platter. Top nosh.
*The homageous nod to Barthes doesn't mean au faitness with the last seventy odd years of litcrit is de rigueur - A Dare's text is embonpoint with all manner and meander of punnilicious fun and wry readerly games.
"Gilbert Adair’s Death of the Author has long been regarded as one of his masterpieces. What readers and critics have either disdained or ignored, through a seeming lack of perspicacity or a willful avoidance and misconstrual of textual hints and contrivances, in a manner reflecting the very subject matter and the protagonist around whom the story develops, such that the void of comment represents the absence suggesting presence, is the actuality of this novella being a mistresspeace, a homage to the one woman he truly admired, and dare it be said, loved. . ."
***
"It's a skilful and savage performance, with twists which one shouldn't reveal. And the central idea, that killing the Author is harder than it looks, has to be simply true. What has happened is that He is now unmasked, cavorting on the page along with the other characters; not an omniscient, anonymous figure, but a lying, local and irresponsible 'I'." - Lorna Sage, Independent on Sunday
Bloody. Brilliant. Beautiful.
The most fun you'll have on a Sunday snorting at a fictionalised account of the theory* behind le nouveau roman, deconstructionism, (a few other isms including the dirty little secret that is anti-Semitism), the literary establishment and iconic ivories, the making and unmaking of reputations, replete (naturally) with the requisite blonde bombshell. All coated in exquisitely delightful (or tongue-in-cheek curlicued) prose served up on a genre whodunnit platter. Top nosh.
*The homageous nod to Barthes doesn't mean au faitness with the last seventy odd years of litcrit is de rigueur - A Dare's text is embonpoint with all manner and meander of punnilicious fun and wry readerly games.
July 23, 2020
Not sure what to make of this. Clearly involving some sort of pastiche of Nabakov (whose short stories I'm currently in the middle of). I spotted a reference to a character sporting pinc-nez spectacles, which seem to crop up in pretty much every Nabakov short story
But can someone explain the meaning of the quote "death is merely the displaced name for a linguistic predicament" as I feel I missed the point.
But can someone explain the meaning of the quote "death is merely the displaced name for a linguistic predicament" as I feel I missed the point.
November 8, 2015
Dieses schmale Buch, das in erster Linie eine ironische Auseinandersetzung mit moderner Literaturtheorie liefert, sich aber zum Ende hin noch zur Kriminalgeschichte mausert, ist höchst unterhaltsam geschrieben. Im Mittelpunkt steht der französisch-stämmige Literaturtheoretiker Sfax, der sich in den 40er Jahren schuldig machte im besetzten Frankreich (unter Pseudonym) nazifreundliche Artikel zu schreiben. Nach dem Krieg wanderte er in die USA aus und wurde dort ein anerkannter Professor, der in seinen Theorien französische Ideen aufnahm, den Autor für tot erklärte und Texten jegliche Intention absprach. Die Anklänge an Roland Barthes Theorie und Paul de Mans Biografie sind nur zu deutlich. Adair nutzt diesen Plot, um die Unzuverlässigkeit des Autors auf allen Ebenen zu karikieren – denn wie kann man dem Werk des Professor Sfax Vertrauen entgegenbringen, wenn man dem Autor nicht trauen kann? Wie kann man dem Ich-Erzähler Sfax über den Weg trauen, wenn der Autor unzuverlässig und seine vermeintliche Intention bedeutungslos ist? Und was taugt eine Theorie, die lediglich ersonnen wurde, um sich von eigenen Missetaten (dem Verfassen von Nazischund) zu distanzieren? Und was passiert, wenn man diese Theorie auf andere Bereiche (wie von Strukturalisten und Postmodernisten immer wieder gerne betrieben) übertragt, zum Beispiel auf einen Mord (wenn es keinen Autor gibt, auch keinen Mörder; wenn es keine Intention gibt auch kein Motiv?). Wenn man Werken – und weitergedacht jedem menschlichen Wirken – eine Intention abspricht, wie amoralisch ist das? Adair führt uns also die Absurdität solcher Ideen vor und amüsiert dabei so sehr, dass man fast schon dankbar sein muss für die Existenz dieser Theorien.
Das Buch hat mir Lust gemacht, mal wieder etwas von Roland Barthes zu lesen und mich auch mit Paul De Mans Leben zu befassen (zumindest was seine literarische Bearbeitung angeht, hier lässt sich auf Lars Gustaffsons Die Sache mit dem Hund und Wolfram Fleischhauers Der gestohlene Abend zurückgreifen). Auch Adairs Wenn die Postmoderne zweimal klingelt : Variationen ohne Thema, eine Sammlung von Essays werde ich mir zu Gemüte führen – also viele Anregungen für die weitere Lektüre.
Dennoch – an der ein oder anderen Stelle ist der Roman bei aller Kürze doch etwas langatmig geraten und daher nicht ganz so gut wie Blindband.
Das Buch hat mir Lust gemacht, mal wieder etwas von Roland Barthes zu lesen und mich auch mit Paul De Mans Leben zu befassen (zumindest was seine literarische Bearbeitung angeht, hier lässt sich auf Lars Gustaffsons Die Sache mit dem Hund und Wolfram Fleischhauers Der gestohlene Abend zurückgreifen). Auch Adairs Wenn die Postmoderne zweimal klingelt : Variationen ohne Thema, eine Sammlung von Essays werde ich mir zu Gemüte führen – also viele Anregungen für die weitere Lektüre.
Dennoch – an der ein oder anderen Stelle ist der Roman bei aller Kürze doch etwas langatmig geraten und daher nicht ganz so gut wie Blindband.
November 12, 2017
You never really know what you are going to be reading about when you open one of Adair's books. You can however be sure that you're in for a treat. And "this mendacious and mischievous and meaningless book" does not disappoint. An thought-provoquing and entertaining reflection on writing and fiction disguised as a piece of crime fiction. The writing is superb, as ever. Great fun.
February 24, 2016
A perfectly executed, deceptively compact work of theory fiction.
Seriously, there really aren't any wasted words here. Everything about this is just so well put together, and Adair’s writing and word choices are truly fantastic. It’s obvious from the first page that you’re really in for something special, as the words just have this lovely flow to them that is very enjoyable to parse. It’s not a breezy read – you really shouldn't expect to skim through it, the book wants your full attention, but it is a fun read, and is one that rewards the diligent reader.
And it’s goddamn smart as well. That’s always a big plus. I love books like this that work on a number of different levels: as theory, as fiction, as multi-layered game and intellectual exercise. What contributes to the death of the author? There are probably four or five solid answers in this tiny little book.
Anyone who enjoys structuralist theory – or really just modern literary theory - should pick this up. And, truthfully, anyone passingly interested in what the hell stucturalist theory is should as well. You won’t regret it. It’s a great read, it’s pretty damn funny, and you’ll probably even learn something.
Get on it.
Seriously, there really aren't any wasted words here. Everything about this is just so well put together, and Adair’s writing and word choices are truly fantastic. It’s obvious from the first page that you’re really in for something special, as the words just have this lovely flow to them that is very enjoyable to parse. It’s not a breezy read – you really shouldn't expect to skim through it, the book wants your full attention, but it is a fun read, and is one that rewards the diligent reader.
And it’s goddamn smart as well. That’s always a big plus. I love books like this that work on a number of different levels: as theory, as fiction, as multi-layered game and intellectual exercise. What contributes to the death of the author? There are probably four or five solid answers in this tiny little book.
Anyone who enjoys structuralist theory – or really just modern literary theory - should pick this up. And, truthfully, anyone passingly interested in what the hell stucturalist theory is should as well. You won’t regret it. It’s a great read, it’s pretty damn funny, and you’ll probably even learn something.
Get on it.
Read
October 3, 2019Amusing, clever satire of academic post-modernism and university life.
May 29, 2022
Great fun! Video review https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9R-fP...
Want to read
October 13, 2013I really want to read this book. I read a review by a friend (listed as the recommendator), and was interested. But I fear I might not be able to record my reading progress or my final thoughts here on Goodreads because:
1)I'm afraid I'm not crafty enough with words to completely avoid using the a-word which is, as you know, an anathema as of September 20th. It would not be in accordance with new policies. Yet, given the subject matter, it seems nearly impossible to not mention it in the review or the comments below it. Or quotes. The GRand Inquisitor Qaramada has not yet issued any official proclamation about them, but it has been noted that some examples that might harm The Holy Spirit Of The Consumer Community (praise Him!) have been executed for their crimes.
2)I'm afraid that this book might be removed from Goodreads because it contains threatening content. I daresay that the title is already much more threatening and likely to hurt the feelings of poor creators of literature than "BBA" which, as we know, is a mortal sin. And just look at the tagline:
Blasphemy!
1)I'm afraid I'm not crafty enough with words to completely avoid using the a-word which is, as you know, an anathema as of September 20th. It would not be in accordance with new policies. Yet, given the subject matter, it seems nearly impossible to not mention it in the review or the comments below it. Or quotes. The GRand Inquisitor Qaramada has not yet issued any official proclamation about them, but it has been noted that some examples that might harm The Holy Spirit Of The Consumer Community (praise Him!) have been executed for their crimes.
2)I'm afraid that this book might be removed from Goodreads because it contains threatening content. I daresay that the title is already much more threatening and likely to hurt the feelings of poor creators of literature than "BBA" which, as we know, is a mortal sin. And just look at the tagline:
"What, I thought, was to prevent me from truly killing the author?"
Blasphemy!
April 18, 2008
Witty, gem-like, and totally insufferable. A perfect example of the temptations of the novella form, in which, as James Salter said, perfection is unfortunately possible. The prose of this book congeals quickly into a surface so hard that I occasionally wanted to knock on it (the way you want, but are also kind of afraid, to knock on a particularly life-like mannequin). Also mysteriously dated-feeling, both in ambition and details. For example, I kept grinning every time the professor narrator referred to his "Apple Mac." Why was I paying attention to this, I wondered? Am I complete techno-snob, or is this book's cool as ice sheen (cooler than its narrator even, who's pretty cool) making me look for excuses to hate it? Kind of like Nabokov, if Nabokov was just 20% more disciplined and about 30% less adventurous. So, let's call this book a kind of half "Despair."
June 28, 2013
I love the Art of the Novella series, and here's another reason why. Compact in a way that benefits the story-- I can't imagine reading 600 pages of this prose-- and as ambiguous as all get, there's a satisfying feeling to this book, especially in the manner in which Adair gets the reader to consider how a selection of prose, which he uses three times at three different moments, has no real definite meaning, a shout-out to the title, yet, as the author caused the reader to realize this, contains a specific meaning wholly attributable to authorial intent. Sorry, my head's fuzzy...
April 1, 2009
This book is a strange combination of an enjoyable read and so-what in the end. It maybe my mood! But nevertheless this is a great series put out by Melville Books. Beautifully designed, and perfect for the bathtub (where i do a lot of my major reading).
Adair is a writer that is interesting, but somehow never caught my full attention for some reason. There is a pretense in "The Death of the Author" that is funny, but it is sort of a hollow laugh.
Adair is a writer that is interesting, but somehow never caught my full attention for some reason. There is a pretense in "The Death of the Author" that is funny, but it is sort of a hollow laugh.
January 5, 2019
I read this book a while ago, but it’s high time I got to talking about it, because it’s one of my favourites and I should really read it again sometime soon.
So I bought this book on a whim in first year at University, after hearing about the Roland Barthes theory with the same name. I’m fascinated by Barthes and thought this would be a book that looks at that theory from a literary point of view. I read the blurb, realized it was better than that, and bought it. In third year at University, I was given the opportunity to write an assignment about the book (and several other books too) for a class about Contemporary British Fiction. Naturally, being the kind of person that I am, I jumped at the chance.
Have you heard of Paul de Man? He was a literary scholar in the United States who, after his death, was found to be an anti-Semitic Nazi sympathizer in his youth, and had published various popular articles about his views under a pseudonym. This caused a huge outrage in the scholarly community at the time.
This book takes inspiration from the real life events surrounding de Man’s death, and the author – speaking in first person the entire way through – is going through a similar situation. When he was younger, living in France during World War II and the Nazi occupation of Paris, the young aspiring writer was approached by the Nazis to use his skill with a pen to write articles for their newspapers. He did not necessarily believe most of what he was writing, but he reasoned that he could either do that, or get himself punished for not obeying orders from the people in charge at the time. In order to save his own skin, the author writes the articles. Years later, when he has finally moved to America and become a literary scholar of his own regard, the author finds that his past has come back to haunt him in the form of a student of his and her aggressive boyfriend.
This novel is absolutely wonderful and a brisk short read. It has a brilliant amount of drama in it that isn’t too much, and really keeps the story going all the way through. It also gives you insight into the possible situation in the de Man scandal. Because his articles were discovered after his death, nobody can ever confirm that he ever really was a Nazi sympathizer. Through this novel, Adair gives us the chance to explore the perspective that maybe he wasn’t a terrible person; just somebody who wanted to save himself from one of the worst situations he could have been in.
Final rating: 4/5. I just wish this book had been longer, but it’s length is also a part of this charm.
So I bought this book on a whim in first year at University, after hearing about the Roland Barthes theory with the same name. I’m fascinated by Barthes and thought this would be a book that looks at that theory from a literary point of view. I read the blurb, realized it was better than that, and bought it. In third year at University, I was given the opportunity to write an assignment about the book (and several other books too) for a class about Contemporary British Fiction. Naturally, being the kind of person that I am, I jumped at the chance.
Have you heard of Paul de Man? He was a literary scholar in the United States who, after his death, was found to be an anti-Semitic Nazi sympathizer in his youth, and had published various popular articles about his views under a pseudonym. This caused a huge outrage in the scholarly community at the time.
This book takes inspiration from the real life events surrounding de Man’s death, and the author – speaking in first person the entire way through – is going through a similar situation. When he was younger, living in France during World War II and the Nazi occupation of Paris, the young aspiring writer was approached by the Nazis to use his skill with a pen to write articles for their newspapers. He did not necessarily believe most of what he was writing, but he reasoned that he could either do that, or get himself punished for not obeying orders from the people in charge at the time. In order to save his own skin, the author writes the articles. Years later, when he has finally moved to America and become a literary scholar of his own regard, the author finds that his past has come back to haunt him in the form of a student of his and her aggressive boyfriend.
This novel is absolutely wonderful and a brisk short read. It has a brilliant amount of drama in it that isn’t too much, and really keeps the story going all the way through. It also gives you insight into the possible situation in the de Man scandal. Because his articles were discovered after his death, nobody can ever confirm that he ever really was a Nazi sympathizer. Through this novel, Adair gives us the chance to explore the perspective that maybe he wasn’t a terrible person; just somebody who wanted to save himself from one of the worst situations he could have been in.
Final rating: 4/5. I just wish this book had been longer, but it’s length is also a part of this charm.
October 2, 2017
Does the bloodlessness of academia bother you? If so, perhaps this short read is worth killing a couple of hours, forensic testing turns up traces of blood in the print, is it yours?
Feels a little bit like a joke that people enjoy explaining more than experiencing. Or maybe I'm less clever by half, I did have to slog through some of the first half, but that's probably because I've spent more of my life outside classrooms than ever before.
Glad enough I stuck with it, and honestly I suspect the author could have made it more hermetic, with more nods to the Barthes essay (which I've not read I should admit). In the end I probably would have dug it more if I just stumbled upon it, as opposed to having it relatively high on my to-read list for quite a while.
Nice read for college English/Rhetoric students on a long weekend?
Feels a little bit like a joke that people enjoy explaining more than experiencing. Or maybe I'm less clever by half, I did have to slog through some of the first half, but that's probably because I've spent more of my life outside classrooms than ever before.
Glad enough I stuck with it, and honestly I suspect the author could have made it more hermetic, with more nods to the Barthes essay (which I've not read I should admit). In the end I probably would have dug it more if I just stumbled upon it, as opposed to having it relatively high on my to-read list for quite a while.
Nice read for college English/Rhetoric students on a long weekend?
April 15, 2019
Picked this up at a library because I had heard good things and it was a short, quick read. In this novella, the same long passage is written 3 times, but each time has different meanings based on what you have (or haven't) learned. It's an interesting story and makes you think.
The author doesn't write women realistically, though. I suppose you could believe that's it not Adair but his narrator/author Sfax who can't do it (which fits with his character) - but I don't suppose that myself.
Otherwise, it's a good story, and I'd tell people to read it. It won't take long and give you a lot to ponder about scholarship, guilt, "Genius," while also keeping you guessing.
The author doesn't write women realistically, though. I suppose you could believe that's it not Adair but his narrator/author Sfax who can't do it (which fits with his character) - but I don't suppose that myself.
Otherwise, it's a good story, and I'd tell people to read it. It won't take long and give you a lot to ponder about scholarship, guilt, "Genius," while also keeping you guessing.
February 10, 2026
A stunningly ingenious and perfectly formed novella. Narrated by the supposed inventor of a literary theory which he then applies to his own life and works and eventually to the narrated text itself, Leopold Sfax (an avatar of Paul de Man) is endowed by Adair with enough intelligence to make his claims plausible and with a very fine prose style o(-i)n which to practice his deceptions.
The writing is full of sparkling witticisms and clever word-play, reason enough to indulge in this very quick read. Connoisseurs of literary theory and particularly of the doings of the Yale School of the 1970s will be able to unlock many of the a clef elements of this wonderful parable.
I'm indebted to the high praise and intelligent commentary from The Complete Review.
The writing is full of sparkling witticisms and clever word-play, reason enough to indulge in this very quick read. Connoisseurs of literary theory and particularly of the doings of the Yale School of the 1970s will be able to unlock many of the a clef elements of this wonderful parable.
I'm indebted to the high praise and intelligent commentary from The Complete Review.
November 7, 2025
Perhaps I'm not pretentious enough for this, but I enjoyed it anyways.
February 3, 2015
This is a smart, tightly wound little book. The story starts out as a pseudo-memoir of a man who lives through Vichy France and travels to America to become one of the most famous literary theorists in all of the Anglophone world. The story is a barely veiled description of Paul De Man. In it, the author (I mean Adair), picks up the familiar refrain that De Man's post war work in Deconstruction (labeled by Adair as simply "the Theory") was meant to so dissociate sign from meaning and action from consequence that it would serve to exculpate him from his sycophantic collaboration with the Nazi press during German occupation. I was a little bit huffy about seeing Adair so unreflectively repeat this monolithic attack on both Deconstruction and De Man (especially after reading Jonathan Culler's thoughtful treatment of De Man's work and his life in a chapter of _Framing the Sign_), but this is fiction, so I accepted it and read on. Surprisingly, the book becomes a murder mystery (well not really surprising since the first words of the jacket cover advertise this), and the story ends with several delightful twists within the last 25 or so pages.
To call the book postmodern would be a bit of a stretch. It's a fairly straightforward narrative with one fun little periodic refrain that throws some of the chronology into interesting relief. But Adair does show a grasp of the key concepts of deconstruction (the misrepresentation of which often accompanies the biographical exegesis of De Man's work with the incriminating activities of his early life, which I describe above). This is not only refreshing but serves as an important element of the plot, but to say any more would give the whole thing away!
To call the book postmodern would be a bit of a stretch. It's a fairly straightforward narrative with one fun little periodic refrain that throws some of the chronology into interesting relief. But Adair does show a grasp of the key concepts of deconstruction (the misrepresentation of which often accompanies the biographical exegesis of De Man's work with the incriminating activities of his early life, which I describe above). This is not only refreshing but serves as an important element of the plot, but to say any more would give the whole thing away!
January 13, 2016
An odd tale that was written in a way I found rather intriguing. The book begins in media res and goes on for about 3 pages. Then the narrator jumps back to childhood, covers a facet of his life, reaches the beginning of the book, and the 3 pages repeat, and he jumps back again and covers a different facet of his life. This happens several times and it give you a better and better understanding of the book's opening.
the plot is fairly straightforward. A murder mystery in a small town. But the reoslution relies on a clever meta narrative that involves some questions of validity on the part of the narrator, and even pulls the reader and Adair himself into the scuffle. This could almost read like an excessive for a writing class if the story wasn't fairly compelling.
The writing is slightly conceited and occasional confusing, but the characters are pleasant and the story actually manages to move along as a pretty clipped pace. An odd introduction to the author and it makes me wonder if all his other works rely on some sort of clever writing trick.
the plot is fairly straightforward. A murder mystery in a small town. But the reoslution relies on a clever meta narrative that involves some questions of validity on the part of the narrator, and even pulls the reader and Adair himself into the scuffle. This could almost read like an excessive for a writing class if the story wasn't fairly compelling.
The writing is slightly conceited and occasional confusing, but the characters are pleasant and the story actually manages to move along as a pretty clipped pace. An odd introduction to the author and it makes me wonder if all his other works rely on some sort of clever writing trick.
September 4, 2008
While I’ve read a number of Gilbert Adair’s recent books, the older titles from his back catalogue are out of print. One of these titles, The Death Of The Author (1992), has thankfully been given a second lease of life in the United States, thanks to Melville House Publishing’s new Contemporary Art of the Novella series, a companion to its Art of the Novella, a series showcasing the likes of Joyce, Flaubert, Proust, and Tolstoy.
Read my full review here.
Read my full review here.
January 13, 2009
This is definitely not a book that you could call a mindless, fun read. A goodreads member named Josh put it best when he wrote, "The prose of this book congeals quickly into a surface so hard...." So far it is a challenging read given the gilded-lily-language the narrator uses, which is leading me to strongly suspect his reliability more than 1 would already have been inclined to. I can be pretty dense at times, and I had to reread the last 2 paragraphs of the novella several times before I lighted upon who the finger was being pointed at, but WOW was the ruminating worth it for THAT ending!
December 12, 2014
An audacious little novella; this book employs semantics and tense in a way that blurs its eventual end sublimely, and is equal parts fascinating, satirical, and infuriating. There were a few times I was convinced I was reading the same thing again ( I was) and needed to reference in order to ensure I had kept my place correctly.
April 27, 2010
I constantly got lost throughout the whole book, but all that made up for the last 30 pages. I really really enjoyed the ending and the recurring scenes - but why, oh why did the beginning and the middle part have to be so chaotic and over the top intelectual?
February 19, 2008
Gilbert Adair is the author of Love and Death on Long Island and the screenplay for Bernardo Bertolucci's The Dreamers.
May 2, 2010
great style. fun and light. an easy read.
March 20, 2011
weird. cool.
January 25, 2012
Very smart and clever. Just a little too post-modern-meta for my taste.
September 6, 2014
Suave. Clever. Hilarious. If you love theory or hate it, you will enjoy this book. One of the most stylish, enjoyable satires I've read in a while.
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