Far From Phoenix by Laurent Seksik – Reviewed by Rebecca Hutchings
The blurb of Far From Phoenix, the newly-published English version of Laurent Seksik’s novel La Légende des Fils, praises the book as being “A tribute to the Great American Novel”. As one who has recently read and thoroughly enjoyed the work in question, I suppose I can see that this is a fair estimation. Translated from the French by Willard Wood and published by Salammbo Press, the book tells the tale of Scott Hatford, an American adolescent whose youthful crises in confidence and difficult family strife are set against a backdrop of national turmoil as the Cuban Missile Crisis shakes the country’s security at its core.
On one level, Seksik emulates the ‘American Novel’ in the way his protagonist so clearly encapsulates something of the American identity during this period in history. Scott’s schoolboy-ish admiration of JFK – portraying a quasi-religious reverence for the President when he deems him to be an “exemplary man, this world hero, the man who lighted our path” – epitomises a patriotism and pride in their leader that was truly felt by many real-life Americans in the 60s. The widespread sense of paranoia and uneasiness experienced by many across the USA at the height of the Cold War is mirrored in Scott’s individual fears and anxieties provoked by his violently abusive father, the latter posing for him a threat every bit as real as that of the USSR’s bombs. Seksik’s technique of bringing the universal down to the personal in this way was one of the aspects which I found most interesting about the novel, and made it far more readable than I imagine it would have been had the narrative focussed more prominently on events in the wider political sphere.
Seksik’s writing style and presentation of Scott’s consciousness also strongly contribute to why Far From Phoenix resembles a ‘Great American Novel’. Almost immediately the narrative hits us with a range of literary techniques which ensure that readers are plunged inside the headspace of the leading character: the use of such free indirect discourse as “He would travel beside mountains that reared like islands into the sky” takes on the vocabulary and imaginings of the boy’s daydreams, allowing us access to them too; the listing of the mundane actions of Scott’s morning routine (“He took off his pyjamas, pulled on his pants, his shirt, slipped into his Clarks, and stood”) creates the illusion that we are living his experiences with him in real-time. The consequent proximity to the character’s mental processes somehow reminded me of the subjective viewpoint of Holden Caulfield in J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye, despite Seksik not employing an entirely first-person narrative as in that coming-of-age classic. But at least Seksik makes up for Salinger’s failings in creating a protagonist who I actually find likeable…
It would be to underestimate the book’s full complexity, however, to reduce it to a simple imitation of American literature. In fact, as I read Far From Phoenix I was often surprised to notice certain lines, images or motifs which strongly struck me as allusions to a diverse host of other famous literatures. When Scott fearfully walks home to face his father’s wrath “as an insect flies toward its fate”, I couldn’t help but spot the similarity to Gloucester’s helpless cry of “As flies to wanton boys are we to th’ gods” in Shakespeare’s King Lear. The excessively lengthy, punctuation-sparse monologues of the waitress Jenny seemed as if they could have been taken directly from a work by the modernist Irish writer James Joyce. Most notably, not only does Scott possess a hatred for his father so strong that he imagines killing him, but additionally his adoration of his mother occasionally expresses itself in a way that borders on the romantic and thus incestuous: “his mother bent over him. A spectral pallor veiled her opalescent beauty”. To me this combination is the perfect paradigm of what Sigmund Freud called the Oedipal complex, a psychological phenomenon which completely revolutionised both literary analysis and the understanding of the human psyche. In my opinion, a book which manages to be Shakespearean, Joycean and Freudian all at the same time, and with such subtlety, is a somewhat impressive feat.
For all that I have found to praise about Seksik’s novel – and I realise that the positives do seem to be dominating thus far – that is not to say that Far From Phoenix does not have its weaknesses. The pace of the plot sometimes feels stilted and slow in a way which could cause frustration; at the halfway point of the book I realised that very little had actually happened, and certainly nothing which I would deem memorable or exciting. Does the action-packed and emotionally-wrought second half redeem this? I don’t see why not. Will the book go down in history as one among the literary greats of the 21st century? The answer to that may be anybody’s guess, but that should not detract from what Far From Phoenix is: a clever and enjoyable novel which is just the right length to read in one sitting, preferably on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
Far From Phoenix by Laurent Seksik – Reviewed by Johanna Struve
Far From Phoenix by Laurent Seksik is a thought-provoking novel about a teenage boy who faces the ups and downs of growing up during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Scott Hatford, though part of a disrupted family, is a sensitive daydreamer, and Seksik succeeds in mingling the beauty of dreams and reality, both in imagery and language, by mirroring Scott’s thoughts, fears, and desires in the landscapes and events around him, and the way the narrative informs us about it.
The novel, published by Salammbo Press, has something of a Classic to it, with its long passages of mostly self-centred dialogue, often going several pages without a full stop, but nevertheless the characters express themselves in a very modern way, adding to the many contrasts of the story. The reader is given plenty of time to get to know the characters, as not much actually happens during the first half of the book, but after a sudden turning point the second half is packed with action and drama, and an ending that deeply moved me; all of this is supported by a range of realistic and relatable characters, including a sad, angry drunk, a loving mother, an ignorant would-be girlfriend, and a tale-telling cousin.
Seksik’s ability to address real, worldwide issues, such as war, religion, abuse, and patriotism in a personal and emotional way is truly impressive. Scott’s admiration of John F. Kennedy plays an important part in this story, as does the love and abuse he experiences from his parents, and in the end we are struck by the fact that life is full of wonders, and always unpredictable.
Modigliani, A Play by Laurent Seksik – Reviewed by Johanna Struve
As Laurent Seksik’s third play, Modigliani is dramatic, funny, and sad altogether, and leaves no room for any boredom to arise as we follow the protagonist and his companions through a series of mostly tragic, yet – thanks to Modigliani’s quirky, self-mocking personality – repeatedly hilarious events. Every character appears to be well established, distinguished, and relatable, ranging from an overdramatic drunk to a loving but cynical mother, a devoted but naive wife, and an enthusiastic, mistreated friend, all of whom play an important and sometimes mysterious part in each other’s lives.
Although the play is a quick read, it doesn’t lack any of Seksik’s style: a bright, direct approach to an ever-changing mixture of emotion. Modigliani, despite not being the friendliest fella, is refreshingly honest and entertaining, which really made me feel for him. Everyone with a little bit of background knowledge knows what happens to Modigliani in the end, but the fate of the other characters struck me as an unexpected, sad surprise.
The play, published by Salammbo Press, is currently showing at the Theatre de L’Atelier in Paris, starring Stéphane Guillon as Modigliani, and might soon be showing in London, too.