Our review: Bataille’s first novel Annam won the prestigious French prize ‘Prix du Premier Roman’ (First Novel Prize), and his talents are demonstrated no less skilfully here. With a bitter aftertaste that’s certainly appropriate, this novella is an intriguing read.

Extract:

            In Buenos Ayres, Jean Mardet remarried—a former dancer, Anna, who gave him a child. She would play for the two of them on a little stringed instrument.

            Jean loved those dry harmonies and their changing rhythms. His gaze disappeared over the bright-coloured roofs of the city.

            He nibbled on a petal which had slipped between his teeth, stuck to his palate. His tongue caressed a sour velvet; the flour was bitter. He remembered the Fort of Joux.

            Jean bought stills and set to work. He shut himself up in his rooms for several days. Then he quit his job. He opened a little bar where he served absinthe.

People came from everywhere to taste the liquor. Jean stumbled down from the hills with his arms full of gentians and sanicles. He sold flasks of absinthe which would distill joy: wormwood was a sailor’s dream.

            Jean adopted the slogan of the cafes of Pontarlier: “When in doubt, absinthe yourself!” and he would laugh. He invited his friends, and together they would play cards all night.

            At dawn he and Anna would find themselves alone; she would sing under her breath. They would dance for a moment.

            She had a good figure, and she was a silent woman. Jean caressed his wife’s hips and wept. She kneaded his shoulders; he went off to take a dip in the sea.

            Then Jean Mardet left Argentina. He left a family there, a few white walls, two or three bulbs of wormwood.

            He saw New York, already straining toward the sky. His ship set sail for Le Havre. In Buenos Ayres, no more was said about the mysteries of absinthe.