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thecommonswings's review against another edition
5.0
Glorious: taking the news in brief stories in his newspaper to new heights, Feneon manages to drill down the strangest, the goriest, the daftest and bloodiest stories into the barest elements, pithy and witty and memorable. It’s best dipped into over several readings although occasionally reading it in bigger chunks reveals fascinating waves of stories that clump into themes that are still prescient today: the constant theft of telephone wires rings a bell as does the all out war towards the end between church and state, in the form of teacher’s demanding to put religious icons in their schools. Some things never change
msand3's review against another edition
4.0
Fénéon's true-crime newspaper blurbs are part surrealist prank and part journalistic exercise. These little news items are funny, dark, quirky, and disturbing, often with a large dose of gallows humor. They also happen to be so perfect for the 21st century Twitter world that several Twitter accounts exist simply to post these blurbs, so you really don't even need to bother buying the book. (For example: https://twitter.com/novelsin3lines) But if you're thinking about reading these, you should buy the book, at the very least for the informative introduction by Luc Sante. I read it straight-through, but it's really perfect for just opening at random and cherry-picking lines. This is a book I'll probably return to quite often for a laugh.
suddenflamingword's review against another edition
3.0
(2.5)
What I learned from this book:
1. Early 20th c. France was a murder-ridden hell full of lust crimes, oppression, strike action, and an obsessive tendency among mayors to try to hang crucifixes in every school (let's not examine the familiarity of all this)
2. There was an epidemic of clipped and stolen telephone cables
To be serious, Novels in Three Lines feels like one persons' passion project that they managed to managed to find a publisher for after shipping it around. As literally as possible, this book is composed of occasionally cheeky micronews articles (a genre called fait-divers in France, dating to the 19th c.) written by the dandy French Anarchist Félix Fénéon, who is contrastingly known for both his intense privacy and his passionate sarcasm in the face of government repression during the infamous Trial of Thirty. This context is what translator Luc Sante wants us to think makes these "novels in the three lines" relevant besides the fact that they are minimalist genius in the spirit of the six word story often attributed to Hemingway "For sale: baby shoes, never worn."
Unfortunately the ambition of the translator smashes headfirst into the reality of the text. Trying to redeem century-old couponed news articles after snipping them from their context is difficult. Trying to redeem these articles when they're three lines? Well, I'll tell you, one of the major issues is that it's hard to read. Both in that there's no thread to follow, not even the broader "this is society" thread that you find in novels like [b:Drown|531989|Drown|Junot Díaz|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1313700390l/531989._SY75_.jpg|3230496] or [b:The Martian Chronicles|76778|The Martian Chronicles|Ray Bradbury|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1374049948l/76778._SY75_.jpg|4636013]. It's a very suffocating experience, like one is a magpie trying to walk through a museum of shiny objects. But it's also a very oppressive experience since most of the stories, being news in the vein of hyperlocal cable news, are mostly variations of "this person was murdered here." In Bookforum, Albert Mobilo refers to Cormac McCarthy or Joyce Craol Oates. That's about right.
That's not to say that his writing is not clever and fun. Setting aside some of the questionable moments of translation (Khashsayar notes some in theirreview), there are genuinely funny moments that both thread through the collection and are one-off moments of wry, dry, & even bitter humor. Fénéon was a Byronic Ironic, if you will. The cable thieves (who are [spoilers] caught in the end) are an example of the former. Of the latter, let me show a few:
"The salt makers of the Pesquiers plant in Hyères would like to add some flavor to their work. To this end, they are going on strike."
"M. Jules Kerzerho was president of a gymnastics club, and yet he was run over trying to jump into a streetcar in Rueil."
"There is no longer a God even for drunkards. Kersilie, of Saint-Germain, who had mistaken the window for the door, is dead."
"At census time, the mayor of Montirat, Tarn, nudged the figures upward. His eagerness to govern a multitude cost him his job."
It's all fairly funny, if grim. Which is to say that I have incredibly mixed feelings about this book. It's more the construction of Sante than the work of Fénéon, in more than the usual sense with translation, and that gives it a striking and peculiar flavor. It's a novel-in-short-stories that's neither a novel nor short stories, composed mostly of abrupt endings and gestures. It's fascinating for that, and I might recommend it for someone who's interested in structure in literature. There's a suggestiveness towards possibilities still unexplored in either twitterature (such as Egan's "Black Box") or social media-inspired novels (such as Baal's [b:Death & Facebook|40334039|Death & Facebook|Iphgenia Baal|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1527914004l/40334039._SX50_.jpg|60803096]).
Maybe I'd even recommend it if you're one of those people who's actually studious about their calendar with a word/quote of the day. I perhaps would feel less torn had I taken it piecemeal. Nevertheless here I am, offering this book to people who either like the idea of the everyday or like living it a day at a time.
What I learned from this book:
1. Early 20th c. France was a murder-ridden hell full of lust crimes, oppression, strike action, and an obsessive tendency among mayors to try to hang crucifixes in every school (let's not examine the familiarity of all this)
2. There was an epidemic of clipped and stolen telephone cables
To be serious, Novels in Three Lines feels like one persons' passion project that they managed to managed to find a publisher for after shipping it around. As literally as possible, this book is composed of occasionally cheeky micronews articles (a genre called fait-divers in France, dating to the 19th c.) written by the dandy French Anarchist Félix Fénéon, who is contrastingly known for both his intense privacy and his passionate sarcasm in the face of government repression during the infamous Trial of Thirty. This context is what translator Luc Sante wants us to think makes these "novels in the three lines" relevant besides the fact that they are minimalist genius in the spirit of the six word story often attributed to Hemingway "For sale: baby shoes, never worn."
Unfortunately the ambition of the translator smashes headfirst into the reality of the text. Trying to redeem century-old couponed news articles after snipping them from their context is difficult. Trying to redeem these articles when they're three lines? Well, I'll tell you, one of the major issues is that it's hard to read. Both in that there's no thread to follow, not even the broader "this is society" thread that you find in novels like [b:Drown|531989|Drown|Junot Díaz|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1313700390l/531989._SY75_.jpg|3230496] or [b:The Martian Chronicles|76778|The Martian Chronicles|Ray Bradbury|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1374049948l/76778._SY75_.jpg|4636013]. It's a very suffocating experience, like one is a magpie trying to walk through a museum of shiny objects. But it's also a very oppressive experience since most of the stories, being news in the vein of hyperlocal cable news, are mostly variations of "this person was murdered here." In Bookforum, Albert Mobilo refers to Cormac McCarthy or Joyce Craol Oates. That's about right.
That's not to say that his writing is not clever and fun. Setting aside some of the questionable moments of translation (Khashsayar notes some in their
"The salt makers of the Pesquiers plant in Hyères would like to add some flavor to their work. To this end, they are going on strike."
"M. Jules Kerzerho was president of a gymnastics club, and yet he was run over trying to jump into a streetcar in Rueil."
"There is no longer a God even for drunkards. Kersilie, of Saint-Germain, who had mistaken the window for the door, is dead."
"At census time, the mayor of Montirat, Tarn, nudged the figures upward. His eagerness to govern a multitude cost him his job."
It's all fairly funny, if grim. Which is to say that I have incredibly mixed feelings about this book. It's more the construction of Sante than the work of Fénéon, in more than the usual sense with translation, and that gives it a striking and peculiar flavor. It's a novel-in-short-stories that's neither a novel nor short stories, composed mostly of abrupt endings and gestures. It's fascinating for that, and I might recommend it for someone who's interested in structure in literature. There's a suggestiveness towards possibilities still unexplored in either twitterature (such as Egan's "Black Box") or social media-inspired novels (such as Baal's [b:Death & Facebook|40334039|Death & Facebook|Iphgenia Baal|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1527914004l/40334039._SX50_.jpg|60803096]).
Maybe I'd even recommend it if you're one of those people who's actually studious about their calendar with a word/quote of the day. I perhaps would feel less torn had I taken it piecemeal. Nevertheless here I am, offering this book to people who either like the idea of the everyday or like living it a day at a time.
bibliocyclist's review
4.0
Three such novels of three lines:
There was a gas explosion in the home of Larrieux, in
Bordeaux. He was injured. His mother-in-law’s hair
caught on fire. The ceiling caved in.
Through chemical artifice, swindlers have been coloring
new 10-centime stamps maroon and then selling them to
suckers as rarities.
Although it had arrived at the station in Vélizy, the train
was still rolling. The impatient Mme Gieger broke both
her legs.
There was a gas explosion in the home of Larrieux, in
Bordeaux. He was injured. His mother-in-law’s hair
caught on fire. The ceiling caved in.
Through chemical artifice, swindlers have been coloring
new 10-centime stamps maroon and then selling them to
suckers as rarities.
Although it had arrived at the station in Vélizy, the train
was still rolling. The impatient Mme Gieger broke both
her legs.
emilymcmc's review
5.0
Will likely always be "currently reading" this book -- great to dip in and out of, and an inspiration to all writers.
hollowspine's review
4.0
Feneon's precise news stories in three lines create a picture into life in France during 1906.
In some ways perhaps we live in an easier world now. Many people committed suicide for various reasons, a great many others were hit by trains, cheating lovers (and innocent bystanders) were in danger of being doused with acid in the streets. The Seine was often the source of bloated corpses and a danger to anyone falling in, as few it seemed were able to get out before joining the legion of the drowned.
One of the most interesting things about the short lines were how well they could fit into the news of today. God was forbidden from entering schools, which, of course, what quite the controversy. That remains quite true. I recall a certain cartoon depicting a puppy tossed from the classroom only to meet Jesus also in the hallway, "You too, huh?" he says. Feneon's prose was much more amusing than that, of course. The reader can easily guess his opinion on the matter.
Workers went on strike, strike breakers were hissed, robberies were committed and copper wire was pilfered from construction and telegraph wires. People in vehicles hit other people, then drove away.
The world hasn't changed much it seems, but the loss of these three line news items has not improved it. I'm happy that I discovered this interesting piece of history, and would recommend it to anyone interested in history, or just looking for inspiration.
In some ways perhaps we live in an easier world now. Many people committed suicide for various reasons, a great many others were hit by trains, cheating lovers (and innocent bystanders) were in danger of being doused with acid in the streets. The Seine was often the source of bloated corpses and a danger to anyone falling in, as few it seemed were able to get out before joining the legion of the drowned.
One of the most interesting things about the short lines were how well they could fit into the news of today. God was forbidden from entering schools, which, of course, what quite the controversy. That remains quite true. I recall a certain cartoon depicting a puppy tossed from the classroom only to meet Jesus also in the hallway, "You too, huh?" he says. Feneon's prose was much more amusing than that, of course. The reader can easily guess his opinion on the matter.
Workers went on strike, strike breakers were hissed, robberies were committed and copper wire was pilfered from construction and telegraph wires. People in vehicles hit other people, then drove away.
The world hasn't changed much it seems, but the loss of these three line news items has not improved it. I'm happy that I discovered this interesting piece of history, and would recommend it to anyone interested in history, or just looking for inspiration.
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