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Title: The Invitation by Claude Simon, Jim Cross, Lois Oppenheim ISBN: 0-916583-90-2 Publisher: Dalkey Archive Pr Pub. Date: August, 1992 Format: Paperback Volumes: 1 List Price(USD): $9.95

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Average Customer Rating: 4 (2 reviews)

Rating: 3
Summary: Minor stuff from Simon
Comment: A very late novel from "New Novel" hero and Nobel Prize-winner Claude Simon (b. 1913), this is a barely fictionalized account of his trip to Russia in the final days of the Soviet empire. Despite some pointed criticisms of Communism--the author is far from being a "fellow traveler"--this is definitely second-tier Simon; it lacks the scale of his earlier masterpieces and the prose is less fluid (though here I may simply be missing the able hand of long-time Simon translator Richard Howard). The subject matter is also unfortunate; the novel already feels a little dated, and that certainly cannot be said for "The Wind," which made Simon's reputation back in the late '50s and stands as one of the best French novels of the past fifty years. I can recommend "The Invitation" only to interested readers who may want to try out Claude Simon without plunging into his longer (and better) books--this novel is, at least, too short to overstay its welcome.

Rating: 5
Summary: mesmerizing
Comment: Claude Simon's style can be described most briefly as mostly commas. While this hints at the challenge, it fails to reveal the rewards. Wend your way through this field of phrases and you'll soon notice that each contains a pearl of beautifully crafted thought. Let the images patter past you like a rain of notes from Phillip Glass and the vision of a horribly broken, flawed, terrifying system of lies, lies, lies, forms before you. As the limousine-load of dignitaries is dragged blearily through a series of limping staged functions by a crowd of strenuously posturing diplomats who have never heard of their guests but seem vaguely aware of their importance, behind the droning, endless speeches you can hear the mechanism of evil chattering insanely to itself. Behind the softly turning leaves you can see bland, vainglorious promenades blithely slathered across the bleak, silent steppes. It is the literary counterpart of Shostakovich's fifth symphony.