A light touch on the keys
THERE are woefully few French books translated into English, especially when you consider the rate of exchange going the other way. But if only a handful of contemporary French writers are going to appear in English, then we must be grateful that Jean Echenoz is among them. His style is all his own: cool, sly, both amused and amusing. He is experimental in an understated kind of way, sliding from one register to another, interrupting a character's thought-processes in order to address the reader sideways, playing with ideas, names and motifs.
Piano was published in France last year as Au Piano and was greeted with bemused respect; it seems familiar as it recycles themes (big blondes, middle-aged men, a weary distaste for Sundays and contemporary life in general) and even names from the author's earlier books, but it is a different proposition. Echenoz also investigates morality, religion and sex, to name but three, through the life and death of the concert pianist Max Delmarc. All is delivered with the lightest touch, so the reader is left entranced, but unsure how seriously to take any of it.
Echenoz's work translates better than many current French novelists, because he could never be accused of overwriting. His language is deceptively simple; it is not easy to recreate his elegance and poise. Mark Polizzotti does a good a job here; he keeps the balance between British and American English successfully and, most crucially, makes the dialogue easy and believable. One of the oddities of this translation, however, is cultural rather than linguistic; when Max wakes up in Limbo, he is cared for by a charming nurse — in the French edition this is Doris Day, whereas Piano presents us with Peggy Lee, a mystifying exchange. There are other quibbles — Polizzotti has a tendency to take things a little too literally and does not always convey Echenoz's boundary-pushing style faithfully. For example, at the beginning of chapter 17, Max's otherworldly minder, Béliard, comes to visit him: "Le lendemain, vers midi et demi, Béliard vint chercher Max histoire de vous socialiser un peu, expliqua-t-il". The elision of Béliard's speech into the explicatory phrase conveys both the necessary information and the tone of the exchange in the most economical way possible, while creating an unsettling effect. Polizzotti gives: "The next day at around half-past twelve, Béliard came to find Max, saying it was time to socialise him a bit". This more straightforward approach takes some of the shine off Echenoz's deftness: still, Piano reads well and sounds a lot like Jean Echenoz. This stylish edition will give English readers a chance to find themselves delightfully mystified.
LUCY DALLAS
Piano, Jean Echenoz, translated by Mark Polizzotti, p.176, Harvill, £12. 1 8434 3180 7
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