"I have just reached the age of 34, life's midpoint. " So commences
Frenchman Michel Leiris' odd-ball autobiography, an elegant example
of existential true-confessions, written ahead of the game in the
late thirties, translated here for the first time. The come-on
subtitle, "a journey from childhood into the fierce order of
virility", sums up both the author's style and intent. And as a
craftsman he's superb, what with passages of shimmering sensuality
and a self-scrutiny often stunningly observed. Still the book's
raison d'etre, its sincerity, is slightly over-serious and
sometimes suspect; to paraphrase Gide: sincerity, too, can be full
of self-delusions. Anyway, the author's representative of that
current cultural complex, sex-in-the-head; as he admits "nothing
seems more like a whorehouse to me than a museum". Self-styled
"virtually impotent" and "humiliatingly ugly"- both statements
meaningful more neurotically than physiologically- Leiris surveys
his early education and experiences, embracing a metaphysics of
childhood, an aesthetic of the male/female psyche, and multi-level
literary allusions. For him, two legendary figures form a
subjective allegory: one symbolizing man's sadism (virtuous
Luorece)??, the other man's masochism (sword-wielding Judith). He
even envisions himself as a sort of Holofernes. Thus the syndrome
is one of self-disgust and self- defensiveness, existing in a dream
world eroticism, neither exalted nor tragic. Leiris does not offer
any solutions, nor does he employ clinical claptrap. He merely
suffers, remembers, presents, and in a way exercises. For
intellectuals, a piercing and provocative bit of personalia.
(Kirkus Reviews)
"Not only one of the frankest of autobiographies, but also a
brilliantly written book, Leiris' "Manhood" mingles memories,
philosophic reflections, sexual revelation, meditations on
bullfighting, and the life-long progress of
self-discovery."--"Washington Post Book World "
"Leiris writes to appall, and thereby to receive from his readers
the gift of a strong emotion--the emotion needed to defend himself
against the indignation and disgust he expects to arouse in his
readers."--Susan Sontag, "New York Review of Books "
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