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Nathalie Sarraute (1900–1999)

Autor(a) de Childhood

43+ Works 2,183 Membros 26 Reviews 5 Favorited

About the Author

Nathalie Sarraute has been an eloquent spokesperson and theorist of the new novel, as well as one of its most talented practitioners. In her essay on the art of fiction, The on The Age of Suspicion (1956), she condemned the techniques used in the novel of the past and took a stand beside mostrar mais Robbe-Grillet as a leader of the avant-garde. The novel, she feels, must express "that element of indetermination, of opacity, and mystery that one's own actions always have for the one who lives them." Her works have now become known to an international public. Her ability to render fleeting awareness and the psychological states underlying articulate speech has won both praise and disdain. Janet Flanner has called Sarraute "the only one among the New Novel experimenters who appears finally to have struck her own style---intense, observational, and personal." Of her novels, The Golden Fruits (1963)---about the Paris literary fortunes of an imaginary novel of the same name---is "the most barren of extraneous decor, the most accomplished from the standpoint of her esthetic aims" (SRSR). Tropisms (1939), her earliest (very brief) book, contains "all the raw material I have continued to develop in my later works." Her "tropisms," she says, are instinctive "sensations," or even "movements," "produced in us by the presence of others, or by objects from the outside world. [They hide] beneath the most commonplace conversations and the most everyday gestures." She regards her novels as composed of a series of tropisms of varying intensity. Sarraute died at the age of 99 in Paris, France. 020 mostrar menos
Image credit: Nathalie Sarraute foto: Jacques Sassier Editions Gallimard

Obras de Nathalie Sarraute

Childhood (1983) — Autor — 475 cópias, 6 resenhas
Tropisms (1939) 324 cópias, 8 resenhas
The Planetarium (1959) — Autor — 287 cópias, 1 resenha
The Golden Fruits (1963) — Autor — 179 cópias, 5 resenhas
Portrait of a Man Unknown (1958) 154 cópias, 1 resenha
The Age of Suspicion (1956) — Autor — 103 cópias, 1 resenha
Do You Hear Them? (1972) 98 cópias, 1 resenha
Martereau : a novel (1953) — Autor — 85 cópias
The Use of Speech (1980) 84 cópias
You Don't Love Yourself (1989) 59 cópias, 1 resenha
Between Life and Death (1968) 53 cópias
Just for nothing (1986) 51 cópias
"Fools Say" (1976) 44 cópias, 1 resenha
Here: A Novel (1995) 43 cópias
Collected Plays (1978) 23 cópias
Oeuvres complètes (1996) 17 cópias
The Silence (1993) 15 cópias
Ouvrez (1997) 12 cópias
The lie (2005) 5 cópias
Das KiWi-Winter-Lesebuch (1988) — Contribuinte — 4 cópias
It's Beautiful (2000) 4 cópias
It Is There (2016) 2 cópias
Aciniz (2015) 1 exemplar(es)
Simdi (2015) 1 exemplar(es)
Wat mooi en Dat daar (1986) 1 exemplar(es)

Associated Works

Story to Anti-Story (1979) — Contribuinte — 13 cópias
Profil d'une oeuvre : Enfance (1983), Nathalie Sarraute (2001) — Contribuinte — 1 exemplar(es)


Conhecimento Comum

Nome padrão
Sarraute, Nathalie
Nome de batismo
Tcherniak, Nathalie Ilyanova
Data de nascimento
Data de falecimento
Local de enterro
Chérence (France)
Local de nascimento
Ivanovo, Russia
Local de falecimento
Paris, Île-de-France, France
Locais de residência
Ivanova, Russia (birth)
Paris, France
Cherence, Normandy, France
University of Paris (1925)
University of Berlin
Oxford University
French Resistance
Sarraute, Claude (daughter)
Sarraute, Anne (daughter)
French Resistance
Grand Prix national des lettres(1982)
Pequena biografia
Nathalie Sarraute was born Natalia Tcherniak to a family of assimilated, intellectual Russian Jews and brought up mostly in Paris by her emigré father after her parents divorced. She wrote her first novel at age 12. She attended the Lycée Fénelon and graduated with a licence in English from the University of Paris-Sorbonne in 1920. She then spent a year studying history at Oxford University and six months studying philosophy and sociology at the University of Berlin. In 1925, she was awarded a law degree by the Faculty of Law in Paris, where she met Raymond Sarraute, also a lawyer. The couple married that same year and had three daughters. Nathalie Sarraute was a practicing member of the bar from 1926 to 1941, before dedicating herself full-time to writing. Her first book, Tropisms, a collection of 24 brief texts that appeared in 1939, marked a fresh direction in French literature. Soon thereafter, Nathalie Sarraute went into hiding under a false name to survive the Nazi Occupation of her country during World War II. She participated in the French Resistance. Later she became a leading member of the French experimental style "new novel" movement along with Alain Robbe-Grillet, Claude Simon, and Marguerite Duras. In 1964, she received the prestigious Prix International de Littérature for her novel Les Fruits d'or (The Golden Fruits). She was 83 years old when she had her first bestseller, her autobiographical novel Enfance (Childhood, 1983). In 1996, Nathalie Sarraute had the rare honor of having her works published during her lifetime in the classic Pléiade collection.



Sarraute's first publication, consists of 24 pieces, one or three pages, critically examining a person, or persons, in the midst of everyday life, describing their inner thoughts, or state of being. Writing style is staccato bursts, maybe four words long, between the commas, many of them, say four or five per sentence. For me, this quickly grew tiresome, as I thought, though it might show promise, there's not enough there, there.
lelandleslie | outras 7 resenhas | Feb 24, 2024 |
Sarraute is considered to be part of the nouveau roman movement in France of the 1950s. These writers did away with literary conventions such as plot and characters in favor of experimenting with new literary forms. Having come across a reference to Sarraute I wanted to read her, and The Golden Fruits was the only novel of hers in my library.

The Golden Fruits has no characters. It has voices of various people, stripped of any individual traits or context. It doesn't have a plot, it has a subject: how works of art, in this case a novel, are established as worthy of adulation by august critics and those who follow them and then how they fall. It has little dialogue; it mostly consists of the interior thoughts of certain persons over time.

At a social gathering a new book, The Golden Fruits, is discussed. The wise elders proclaim its self-evident greatness. The confused sheep follow, eager to be told what to think of it so they can share the same opinion.
It has been said that what people dislike most, is to be accused of singing off key. I believe that to be suspected of having no taste is more painful. [p.172]

These taste setters use indecipherable jargon and a veil of resistance to challenge to play their tricks. Not everyone plays along however, and those who resist received critical opinion to stand by their own judgement are those who are able to recognize evil when they see it. It is strong language, to be sure.
They should go away. This befuddled flock should be disbanded. And the culprit brought to me. That man over there, yes, you. You are arrested. Handcuff him. Hold out your wrists. I've been watching you for a long time, I've been collecting evidence against you. This time I've got you. You're caught in the act. Let's talk a bit between ourselves about this gesture that, according to you, depicts the deep sentiments with such exquisite simplicity. This gesture with the scarf which, with what art, "tells everything" better than an entire book. You gave them that. You made them take that poisoned drug. I admired your self-assurance, your daring. You are so sure of impunity, you never make a miss. But here - we can't foresee everything, can we?- here is an obstacle, an unpredictable accident. One of the victims… I admire her force, what a strong personality… like Rasputin she resists miraculously, the deadly drug does not affect her… She rises, she shouts: What is it? What was that you made me swallow? What does it contain? Why, it's harmful, it's dangerous… a false truth… it is something that means nothing, that can mean just anything… she rejects it, she doesn't want it. Then you try another tactic, you bring out your case of soporifics and gags: Of course, by itself this gesture is nothing, only there is the highly complex whole, there is the construction. All this is what gives this gesture its meaning, all these prolongations, these resonances… Ah, because a work of art… In such cases your expression becomes vague, pensive, you are seen moving off toward heaven knows what unknown regions, what mysterious, strange countries… And they, as though hallucinated, and all drugged by you, uplifted… But where, I ask you, I want to know, are you taking them? What ineffable prolongations, what poetic radiance will they be able to see around this mass-produced rubbish, this cheap dime-store article? Show them to me. If you have succeeded in discovering a single particle of something that is intact, that vibrates, that is alive, then that's what you should talk about, that's what you should show them and not this trash - which you should have hidden.
This can't go on, you understand. You must be kept from doing harm. You are falsehood, you are evil itself. You must be uprooted, I'm going to grab you by the throat, lift you up, take the entire world as my witness, roar…[p.55-57]

So the book, despite a holdout here and there, becomes a sensation. After some time, who knows how long, voices start reflecting on its downfall, its critical re-examination that it failed spectacularly.
"Why, all of a sudden? What happened? Don't tell me they noticed something. That would be too good. Who rereads a book? Who's going to analyze it closely? But it's as though the word had gone round. For what reason? How? Where? When there exists no criterion of values. None. Did you see the exhibition of paintings that were famous in 1900? Eh? What a lesson! It's appalling…" His entire strength tensed with indignation, rage, a savage delight in destruction, he shakes the whole edifice. Let the whole thing collapse and crush them all, let him perish, he too, with them… "Things reach the point where people begin to wonder whether even those present…" his sacrilegious lips have uttered sacred names… "whether even they will last. Whether it is not all so much eyewash, eh? What does anybody know about it?"[p.131]

This review of mine has been heavy on the direct quotes, because if we're going to be reading this novel today, it's going to be due to its nonconforming style, and our interest in seeing how the definition of a novel can be stretched. It's not Joyce, but it follows along that path for the minority of readers who like to see what's down around the next bend.
… (mais)
lelandleslie | outras 4 resenhas | Feb 24, 2024 |
Dit was weer een heel bevreemdende leeservaring, vooral omdat ik er compleet onvoorbereid in stapte. Sarraute biedt 24 korte stukjes aan, vignettes, dikwijls maar van enkele pagina’s, en die door geen enkele verhaallijn verbonden lijken, gewoon maar los van elkaar bestaan. Het viel me direct op hoe welluidend haar stijl is, het deed me spontaan overgaan op luidop lezen, en dan leek het alsof de klanken een eigen leven leidden, los van de inhoud. Want die inhoud, dat was even zoeken. Pas bij een tweede lectuur viel het me op dat ze vertrekt van een waarneming: van dingen, van mensen (niet bij naam genoemd), van situaties, die ze ogenschijnlijk onpartijdig, objectief, neutraal lijkt te beschrijven. Onmiddellijk verbindt ze die ook met een bepaalde reactie die teweeg wordt gebracht door het beschrevene, en die ze vervolgens ook analyseert. En dan komt een heel complexe wereld tevoorschijn van acties en reacties, handelingen verbonden met emoties (soms erg heftig) en omgekeerd, maar telkens bekeken als een soort van automatismen, en de betrokken personen bijna als automaten. Intrigerend, maar wel erg kil, alsof je naar de eindeloze bewegingen in een mierenhoop of een bijennest zit te kijken.
Dit boekje maakt zeker iets los, maar ik moet eerlijk bekennen dat ik er niet warm van werd. Dit genre van ‘ontmenselijke’ literatuur was uiteraard de vrucht van de onhumane ontwikkelingen in de 20ste eeuw (het verscheen eerst in 1939, maar brak pas door na de publicatie in 1957), maar het roept bij mij spontaan weerstand op. Misschien sluit ik onterecht de ogen voor hoe onbezield veel van onze handelingen zijn, de vrucht van (onbewuste) automatismen, en koester ik teveel nog de illusie van de humanistische interactie. Maar het is goed dat Sarraute ons de keerzijde daarvan voor ogen houdt.
… (mais)
1 vote
bookomaniac | outras 7 resenhas | Nov 24, 2023 |
Em OS FRUTOS DE OURO o herói é um romance, de nome OS FRUTOS DE OURO, e o assunto é a reação que ele provoca em seus leitores.

Numa sequência de cenas justapostas em torna desta única idéia central, para a qual as passagens servem de ilustração, OS FRUTOS DE OURO é o romance que melhor da voz e forma poética à pesquisa sobre arte de construção do romance desenvolvida por Nathalie Sarraute, escritora pioneira do NOUVEAU ROMAN francês.
BolideBooks | outras 4 resenhas | Jun 17, 2021 |



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