UNDER THE DOME

French poet and translator Daive recalls his friendship with post–World War II German poet Paul Celan (1920-1970).

This slim, elliptical memoir, a new edition of a work published in 2009 but subsequently out of print, consists of a series of fragments that barely cohere to create an alternately murky and evocative portrait of the relationship between two significant figures in French letters. Though Daive was born more than two decades after his mentor and subject, their poetry and translation work provided common bonds, particularly their shared obsession with how words work and language functions as well as the many limitations of spoken and written communication. The narrative follows them as they walk around Paris, in different seasons, over different years, often stopping for coffee, drinks, or a meal. The topics range widely but usually circle back to words, language, and storytelling—and later, to death, as Daive contemplates Celan’s 1970 suicide: how and when he threw himself into the Seine River and the magnitude of the aftershocks experienced by the author and those who knew both of them. “There were never any crossroads on our walks,” writes the author. “No halts I mean, exactly as if our promenade were part of a long ribbon without beginning or end, without collision and almost without witness. On the paving stones his step turns gentle: pure sound, muted sighs.” And so seems the conversation recollected in this diffuse narrative on poetry and philosophy, on Kafka and God, on the challenge and futility of using words to express what words cannot express: “The matter of words. Words as matter. Distance within logic.” Not for general readers, it’s a book that will appeal most to fans of either poet’s work and one that could find a home in courses on modern French literature. The book includes a new introduction by Robert Kaufman and Philip Gerard.

A dark, disjointed reading experience.