Helene Cixous
autor
Angst
A woman replays her abandonment by her mother, who is sometimes addressed as a male mother-god. She is also abandoned by her lover, to whom she is in thrall. She tries repeatedly to make or receive phone calls with the beloved figures, without success. She waits for their letters and imagines their contents. In a dream-like, torrid sequence, suffering, fear, fatigue and imperfection are apostrophised. Forgetting is examined and toyed with from every angle. Mythical hybrid creatures are invoked: a snake-headed lion, wolf-snakes, a wolf-peacock. How did this come to be? In a cunningly, wittily wrought rush, the unique, unpredictable voice of the narrator speaks from multiple perspectives to express powerful anguish and, ultimately, catharsis.
Mdeilmm
Weaving together history, literature, and personal experience, this recent book from a master of literature crafts a mesmerizing exploration of language, loss, and the enduring power of the spirit world. The strange word “Mdeilmm” was reported to have been uttered by the spirit of Shakespeare when called up during a séance in 1854 at the instigation of the French poet Victor Hugo. Hugo was then living in exile on the island of Jersey where he took part in several such séances. Hélene Cixous weaves this scene into a rich tapestry that draws from many corners of her world, both real and fictional: Dostoevsky’s Idiot, Hugo’s Last Day of a Condemned Man, Poe’s story “The Gold Bug,” but also film footage of the assassination of Itzhak Rabin and many layers of memories of her Algerian childhood. Transcribed communications from spirits of the departed, her father and grandfather among them, provide a fascinating glimpse into past spiritual practices. Cixous’s unique narrative style enhances the book’s enchanting quality, ensuring that readers are not only engaged by the content but also captivated by the beauty of the prose. Meanwhile, the reader falls under the spell of the author’s incomparable “mole speech,” the language in which poets communicate.




