Being a series of prose poems which feature characters and, occasionally, actions which resemble a plot, without really comprising a type of book which I would be comfortable calling a novel. The writing is very lyrical, very sublime, as the author lovingly describes life's small phenomena such as the color gradations of the ocean, the coming of the crepuscle, or the progression of human settlement as one moves away from the sea. The second half of the book contains a slightly more conventional structure of events and characters and the abstraction is a little less successful in this part of the book; when things seem to be happening, one might wish for a better idea of what they might be. This truly is not to be missed, though. ( )

This is the first book I've read by Duras, and what a strange book it is. More impressionistic than a traditional novel, it has a film-like character to it with very spare descriptions of the scene and the actions and little in the way of plot. According to the introduction and afterword, and also a helpful interview with the translators provided by Open Letter, the publisher, with my copy (I am a subscriber), the characters in this novel, referred to as "the woman" or "she," and "the traveler" and "the man who walks," both called, sometimes confusingly, "he," are characters in several other novels and movies in Duras' "India cycle," although it is said this book can be read on its own.

I found it beautiful but mystifying. The language is very simple, very repetitive, and yet poetic. The sentences are often very short, and paragraphs can be one line. Here is an example, almost picked at random.

"She is silent.
The light changes again.
He raise his head, looks in the direction of her gesture; he sees that from the far end of S. Thala, toward the south, the man who walks is returning, making his way through the seagulls, he is returning.
His pace is even.
Like the changing of the light.
Accident.
Again the light: the light. Changes, then suddenly does not change anymore. Brightens, freezes, even, shining. The traveler says:

    --The light

She looks. pp. 8-9

The story, such as it is, takes place in S. Thala, a resort town where the river meets the sea, that is apparently either out of season or has been abandoned. There are empty buildings, fires, sounds reminiscent of parties in times gone by.

Light and darkness, day and night; looking and seeing, looking and not seeing;walking, coming, going, returning, etc.; the beach and the sea; remembering and forgetting; pregnancy, illness, and death; cries and groans -- all of these seem to play a role in this book. It seems, to me anyway, that Duras wanted to strip down her language, allowing readers to visualize in their own minds what is happening, even though much of what is happening is surrealistic and incomprehensible. What comes across is that there was a livelier, happier life for the characters there in S. Thala sometime in the past -- and that something happened to change that so that the characters seem disturbed, or at least very sad.

This was a puzzling read, and I'm not sure if it makes me want to read more Duras or stay far away!

Fascinating work. It's like being in a dream (not reading about someone else's dream, but actually being in it). There were a few times when I wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but in the end it didn't matter as the fabulous, hallucinatory writing more than made up for it. ( )