Pierre Mac Orlan's 1920 "Handbook for the Perfect Adventurer" was at once a paean to the adventure story, a tongue-in-cheek guidebook to the genre's real-life practitioners and a grim if unspoken coda to the disasters of World War I. "It must be established as a law that adventure in itself does not exist," Mac Orlan stipulates. "Adventure is in the mind of the one who pursues it, and no sooner is he able to touch it with his finger than it vanishes, to reappear much farther off in another form, at the limits of the imagination." This handbook outlines two classes of adventurer: the active adventurer (sailors, soldiers, criminals) and the passive adventurer (sedentary parasites who draw sustenance from the exploits of the former). Roaming from battlefields to pirate ships to port-town taverns, and offering advice on reading, traveling and eroticism, Mac Orlan's "Handbook" is ultimately a how-to manual for the imagination, and a formulation of the stark choice all would-be adventurers must face: to live or write. Generally known as the author of "Le Quai des brumes" (the basis for Marcel Carne's film of the same name), Pierre Mac Orlan (1882-1970) was a prolific writer of absurdist tales, adventure novels, flagellation erotica and essays, as well as the composer of a trove of songs made famous by the likes of Juliette Greco. A member of both the Academie Goncourt and the College de 'Pataphysique, Mac Orlan was admired by everyone from Raymond Queneau and Boris Vian to Andre Malraux and Guy Debord.
A little superb book by the great French 'unknown' writer Pierre Mac Orlan. "Unknown' to English reading citizens because this may be the only book of his that is translated into English. Mac Orlan is the ultimate figure in French literature that captures the lifestyle of a romantic writer who lived a great adventuresome life. Or that is what one is lead to believe. Nevertheless he was commissioned by the great Blaise Cendrars in 1920 to write a handbook for writers who want to either have adventure or more likely write an adventure narrative.
In this short book he recommends cities that are good for an adventure narrative as well as taverns and bars. I suspect that his nature is very much in tuned to this type of location. He puts the adventurer in two categories: the active adventurer and the passive adventurer. The passive fellow or gal are more likely the readers, who want to read the exploits of the active adventurer. He gives plenty of advice for both class of adventurer.
For one hopes that there will be further books that will be translated into English by this wonderful wit, for whom writers such as Boris Vian, Guy Debord and of course Cendrars are huge fans of the man as well as his work. Another excellent book from Wakefield Press.
A humorous and slyly profound book about the paradoxes at the heart of imaginative work. This short treatise knows more about the inner workings of *literature* than most MFA programs. Wakefield's edition is gorgeously designed and filled with fascinating and informative notes to boot.
The existence of this book is, quite frankly, bizarre.
The preface introduces Pierre Mac Orlan � an influential but neglected French writer of the early twentieth century. A writer of absurdist tales and adventure novels, personal essays and accordion songs. Under pseudonym, an abundance of flagellation novels. Some of these novels were made into films including the semi-famous Port of Shadows. Yet almost none of his work was translated into English and that which was is all but impossible to find.
All of this is well and good, and the intro writer does a good job of conjuring curiosity and intrigue on the subject of Pierre Mac Orlan. I was ready. Give me the adventure. The flagellation and absurd.
So it came as a surprise that after all this hype, the book the publisher chose to translate was a pamphlet* steeped in a literary-philosophical conflict not of our time and filled with a constant slew of literary recommendations for novels and writers that would be incredibly difficult to track down, if they had ever been translated into English in the first place. The book was written in 1920 after all. There’s endnotes explaining each now-obscure point of reference or writer that contains nearly as many words as the main text itself!
Mac Orlan defines two different sorts of adventurers:
The active adventurer � The person (always a man, women are set pieces � more on this later) who goes off and has some adventure somewhere. He’s probably a sailor and quick with a sabre and off to lands unknown. Impetuous and with a low regard for personal safety, the book even comes with a list of traits these fellows show in childhood.
The passive adventurer � The one who does not travel anywhere farther than the local tavern (mythologized in loving detail), the one who coaxes the gullible active adventure on some perilous mission upon the high-seas and then writes a novel about it afterward. Their defining features are their voracious appetite for reading, their parasitic relationship to the active adventure, and their desire to put it all into writing.
Mac Orlan praises the passive adventurer as one who can write tales about lands he has never been to, who lives by reading and finds all the “research� he may need by familiarity with the great writers of his time (or, again, The Tavern). The introduction makes the comparison to Marcel Proust composing his opus without ever really leaving his bedroom. I would disagree with Mac Orlan, and surely that sort of attitude might explain the cringe-worthy books written by westerners of that time period (and now) about other countries that are hilariously inaccurate and probably racist. But I wasn’t really engaging with this argument because I can never tell when Pierre Mac Orlan is serious.
For he is always dry and mordant, and while he seems to be praising the passive adventurer and determining the active as foolish, there is also a World War I reactionary bent throughout. Is he applauding the passive adventurer or embarking upon a biting satirical take of the governments involved in the Great War � passive adventurers who gladly sent their captive active adventurers to their deaths en masse? The passive adventurer’s manipulation of (human) subject is stressed and at the end, Mac Orlan even warns that the active adventurer, should he survive his sojourn, occasionally comes back to beat the passive adventurer senseless.
This is a constant of the book. It’s impossible to tell if the man is being serious. Everything is written in a deadpan, deliberate tone. In one sentence, he is being a homophobe:
“An adventurer should never be made a homosexual, so as not to break with the prejudice that decrees that an individual with effeminate manners cannot act courageously.�
Then in the same breath, he contradicts his own edict:
“However, this vice has nothing to do with physical courage, which always leads to scorning death.�
Similarly, he refers to women as objects to be inserted into adventure stories like other “props�. His prime example involves comparing types of women to the accoutrements of a ship. Does he really mean it? I don’t know!
I’m still fascinated and Mac Orlan’s sentence-level writing is calculated wit and fun to read, so maybe this choice for translation was smart after all. Certainly it was cheaper than translating a full-length novel. I would like one of those.
*And pamphlet it is. Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ lists it as one hundred and one pages but there is an immensity of white space and blank pages. Seriously â€� there are five blank pages placed at the end of the book for no real reason other than to pad the sizing. The pages themselves are thicker than normal. It takes all of thirty minutes to read.
Saw this at the Wakefield Press booth at the Boston Book Festival and the few lines I read were amusing so I bought it on a whim. Seems to tackle that age-old question: to do, or to write?
An enjoyable essay in parts, addressed to one who would be an adventurer or a writer of adventure novels. Obviously, the writer is more the addressee here, since the adventurer, in the mode of some character in a novel by Stephenson or Conrad wouldn't need the advice. And it's sharp enough, as Mac Orlan lays out for us the genre requirements with a knowing wink.... so we hear about the ways in which an adventurer may die, and the best places he should visit to successfully fire the imagination to write about adventure. It cleverly straddles the line between giving reasonable advice and puncturing its own seriousness.
The introduction, by translator Napoleon Jeffries, is really helpful in giving some background on Mac Orlan and his context, the literary Paris of those years around the first world war (at least for this book). He's astute and full of footnotes and generally as interesting as Mac Orlan is.
I can't say for sure how I came to own this book, but it's a fun one to have.
Dissacrante, talvolta cinico manualetto che a tratti dipinge l'avventura in un modo che, alla lontana, mi ha ricordato l'intreccio ariostesco.
"Orlan scrutò la vita con gli occhi mestamente divertiti di chi, fuori dalla mischia, ne conosce fin troppo bene l'inenarrabile volgarità . E, soprattutto, restituì alla letteratura uno dei suoi sensi più preziosi: quello di essere, prima di ogni altra cosa, un'avventura pericolosamente ludica."
I thought I was getting a handbook in the sense I was going to go out on my own adventures. Instead, it's a handbook for writing adventure novels in the early 19th century. It's also translated from French, which doesn't flow too well compared to modern writing.
For the high price, I was expecting more. I don't feel like I personally gained much for it. Maybe a list of places to visit one day that adventurers from long ago once sailed to.
una sorta di piccolo manuale sul mondo dell'avventura che in poche pagine riesce a fare a pezzi tanto un genere letterario quanto i suoi lettori, il tutto intriso però di una certa complicità e di parecchia conoscenza della materia. non è un libretto imperdibile, ma regala un'oretta di sorrisi, qualche nome da appuntarsi per riscoprirlo e poi lo si mette via pensando prima o poi di rileggerlo: non è poco...
I really appreciated this short handbook on "The Perfect Adventurer," although I walked away convinced that there is not actually a perfect adventurer. You can see my thoughts on my blog.
I loved reading this satirical take-d0wn of travel and adventure while traveling through Colombia. Some of the language/references tripped me up and I had to read a few pages multiple times but it's a quick read. It was a fun foil to the real-world adventure I was on.