THE RECEPTION OF RENÉ CREVEL IN ITALY

Review par Jean-Michel Devésa

René Crevel, who for a long time existed only through legend, that of the rebellious archangel of surrealism, who committed suicide in June 1935 for not having been able to master his contradictions or his passions, has managed over several years to conquer a public: his books are now read, analyzed, interpreted; his trajectory within the surrealist movement is becoming the object of increasingly numerous studies. His growing international audience testifies to this new stature. His critical reception in Italy attests to it.

Francesco Cornacchia, a young academic posted at the University of Bari, is not the first Italian researcher to take interest in René Crevel's work.

The way had been opened in part by Ivos Margoni (Per Conoscere Breton e il Surrealismo, Milano, Mondadori, 1976) and especially by Vito Carafiglio ("René Crevel alla prova d'italiano", Lectures, nn. 4-5, agosto 1980). Then Paola Decina Lombardi had written an excellent René Crevel, o il surrealismo come rivolta (Geneva-Paris, Slatkine, 1989). In the recent period, Alessandra Marangoni, from the University of Padua, published Il Corpo dilaniato di René Crevel (Coll. "Letture e Ricerche francesi", n° 16, Padova, CLEUP Editrice, 1998). In this context, Francesco Cornacchia's work comes at the right time: it offers, from solid documentation, several axes of reflection likely to illuminate René Crevel's literary and personal itinerary. Italian readers will rejoice in it, as will scholars and admirers of the writer.

The emphatic, almost dithyrambic preface by Claude Courtot (who belonged to the surrealist group and is the author of a René Crevel published in 1969 in the prestigious "Poètes d'aujourd'hui" collection at Seghers), takes as pretext both Cornacchia's book, – which is not, let us recall, the first serious work devoted to Crevel –, and the writer's journey to break lances against faceless "commentators" and "university works" discredited in advance. The formulas are spirited and adjusted but the argumentation is quick. These polemical developments indeed fall under cliché and truism, if not pure rhetoric. These attacks, however vigorous, spare and save those they should reach and whom they do not designate: all those who, strong in their positions of power, emasculate surrealism to make it enter anthologies, sanitize it and recuperate it, thus get off cheaply. Conversely, those who, according to their own genius, but always with enthusiasm, strive to make better known a movement whose influence appears to have been major in the history of ideas and sensibility in the 20th century, find themselves summoned to deny themselves, to beat their breast, to make repentance in some way for a profession and a trade judged "shameful". If it is true that the apprehension of René Crevel's work, from his suicide to today, is not devoid of stakes, we must note that these 'outbursts', now conventional, against "the Sorbonne, this Dupuytren museum of all senilities", to use Crevel's words, only add to the general confusion: in 1932, when Crevel published The Harpsichord of Diderot, his "targets", who have established reputations, are known to all; today, these flights against French university ultimately spare the "mandarins", specialists or not of surrealism, and have no other effect than to make the "stokers" of an institution feel guilty, of which they are generally not duped and within which they often have the greatest difficulty making themselves heard.

In short, it would be good for everyone to learn to play American billiards and finally understand that History always advances masked! We would have fewer "missed appointments" to deplore and the course of the world might be better for it.

At René Crevel's death, already, public attention had been retained by the serious accusations brought by Marcel Jouhandeau against André Breton whom he held responsible for the tragic end of their common friend. The speculations and vigorous exchanges that followed ignored the part that fell to the Stalinist organizers of the Congress for the defense of culture (June 21-26, 1935) in the triggering element of Crevel's suicide: their sectarianism had however greatly disappointed a Crevel who, at the very moment when he was increasingly distancing himself from surrealism to get closer to the Communist Party and its mass organizations, was nonetheless concerned to obtain speaking time for André Breton, who was rejected on the pretext of his altercation with Ilya Erhenbourg. Thus it was that, while "God's party" and surrealists clashed harshly around the writer's remains, the supporters of the Gulag and the Lubyanka, the Moscow trials and the purges found themselves absolved of all responsibility in the conditions and solitude that had presided over René Crevel's suicide.

Now that René Crevel's books have escaped oblivion, it would be fortunate if rigorous examination of texts and historical circumstances were preferred to thunderous but vain posturing. Crevel would lose nothing by it. On the contrary. His contribution to surrealism, his singularity and his originality would only be better highlighted. And his revolt and his independence of mind, far from being insipid, could give food for thought.

This is the reading work that remains to be done, against all partisans of any orthodoxy. Crevel who has been, systematically, claimed and "annexed" to the cause of critics who leaned over him, resists all the more to these "takeover bids" as he will have been, all his life, a rebellious surrealist, faithful in friendship, supporter of the novel and hostile to automatic writing, familiar with the Faubourg Saint-Germain and fellow traveler of the Third International, openly bisexual and unhappy in love, curious about the world and open to others, prey to doubt but always in quest of the absolute.

This is ultimately why the arguments advanced by Claude Courtot are far from carrying conviction.

All those who love René Crevel without however thinking of denigrating André Breton, can only discuss a point of view which, objectively, aims to establish that the writer's work is in quasi-perfect adequation with the "doxa" of the movement: "[...] contrary to numerous suspect commentators who hasten to seize the pretext of Crevel to criticize Breton, Francesco Cornacchia far from opposing the two men, demonstrates with much intelligence and sensitivity what had to be demonstrated: the deep links that unite Crevel's 'novels' to surrealism and make this original work a creation 'without which surrealism would have lacked one of its most beautiful volutes' (André Breton)" (p. V-VI). The question of his recourse to novelistic writing, despite the condemnation of the genre stated in the 1924 Manifesto, cannot be peremptorily settled by alleging the identity of views (actually, quite problematic on several points) of Crevel and Breton: "Francesco Cornacchia brilliantly shows how Crevel pulverizes the novelistic fiction he condemns in the same terms as Breton, how he knows how to reinvest in his books, in his own way, automatisms and dream narratives, how from his first texts to the last, Crevel remains faithful to the surrealist spirit and how much this authentic work differs from literary trickery" (p. VI). Certainly freed from the conventions of realism and naturalism, Crevel aspired to a "broken novel" but his use of the novel, however unbridled it was, did not have the ambition to definitively break the novel, a petition of principle that moreover remained without effect... And it is going fast to reduce the problem of the narrative framework borrowed by Crevel to a simple tactic: "Francesco Cornacchia did not let himself be told by the lure of the 'novel' label that Crevel insisted on placing at the threshold of his works as if to invite the reader to enter them in complete safety, he understood that Crevel was engaged in a dangerous writing experiment, where lyrical confession alternates with the projection of desires and prohibitions embodied in symbolic figures, fictional characters who have the transparency of familiar ghosts" (p. VII).

If empathy and a sensitive approach to texts are eminently desirable in the apprehension of surrealist texts and productions, their questioning requires guarding against any a priori: criticizing a work is equivalent neither to consigning it to the dustbins of History nor to praising it without discernment unless one condemns oneself to a sadly ideological functioning. In this perspective, commentators are not necessarily "suspect" and assertions like "what had to be demonstrated", "in the same terms as Breton", etc., bring nothing to the debate because their cutting and sharp tone is more about intimidation than the will to convince. Similarly, by dint of wanting to mark out and orient the reading of a work, one takes the risk of elaborating an analysis grid, perhaps satisfying for the mind, but somewhat imposed.

To affirm, as some of us do, the thoroughly surrealist character of Crevel's work can dispense with a systematic enlistment of the writer under André Breton's banner. The entirety of communications from the International Colloquium "René Crevel or The Spirit against reason" (Proceedings published in Mélusine, n° XXII, 2002) demonstrated it. The quality of the relations I maintain with Claude Courtot authorizes me to express these reservations: he is a free spirit who, in respect for the other, does not flee confrontation, which is far from always being the case in our universities and our research centers.

That being said, it is time to proceed to the review of Francesco Cornacchia's book.

Even for a reader who does not perfectly possess Italian, his work seems from the outset open and nuanced.

In a clear and concise "Introduzione", Cornacchia begins by noting the difficulties for the Italian public in accessing a movement of which only a few great names (André Breton, Louis Aragon, Paul Éluard, Antonin Artaud) are known. The audience of surrealist poetry is less than that of painting, often associated with the name of Salvador Dali. It is only after having well underlined the handicap of this "ricezione tardiva e lacnosa del Surrealismo" that Cornacchia announces and justifies the plan, actually chronological, of his study in three parts: I. "L'Io, L'Altro e Mnemosine", II. "La 'Pluralità dei discorsi'", III. "L'Impegno Rivoluzionario".

Citing his sources, indicating without any ambiguity his borrowings and his debts, Cornacchia proposes an analysis that is not only a synthesis of his predecessors' works.

The first part ("Dal dettato ipnotico alla scrittura narrativa: Détours, o il 'romanzo di nevrosi familiare'" of part I of Cornacchia's book ("L'Io, l'Altro e Mnemosine"), devoted to Crevel's youth texts and to Détours, poses the essential question, in this case that of its status in relation to the novelistic genre: "Qual è dunque il rapporto del romanzo di Crevel con il Surrealismo? Ha contribuito a fondare un romanzo surrealista o a rinnovare tout court il genere?" (p. 15). Taking up the theses developed by François Buot in his biography of the writer, Francesco Cornacchia emphasizes the ascendancy that André Gide exercised over a youth traumatized by war. Moreover, it is appropriately that he observes that, from his first contributions, those entrusted for example to the magazine Aventure, Crevel lists the themes that his novels will develop: "I testi narrativi che Crevel pubblica su 'Aventure' preannunciano i problemi ricorrenti nei suoi romanzi: un'esitazione fra amicizia e amore su cui incidono diffidenza e inibizione nei confronti della donna, il desiderio di una relazione ispirata ad una sincerità ideale o assoluta, la ricerca di un'impossibile libertà che porta il soggetto dall'incontro con l'Altro alla solitudine, la morte" (p. 18). Carefully summarizing Crevel's texts, restoring their stakes, Francesco Cornacchia does not forbid himself from advancing personal hypotheses: about the psychological image, representation and their functioning; about love as existential quest; about Gide and the reasons for his influence. Stimulating considerations on suicide end this chapter.

The second sequence of this part I, briefer, relates to Mon corps et moi. For Cornacchia, the Crevel of this period can only be understood in function of three parameters: dadaist nihilism, Gidian influence and surrealist reference. The proposed study is based on the theses of Myrna Bell Rochester (René Crevel. Le Pays des miroirs absolus, Saratoga, Anma Libri, 1978). Rejecting the idea of a brutal militant and political evolution, Cornacchia maintains that this is rooted, from Mon Corps et moi, in a "communism of souls" and a "fury" against the order of the world: "un sentimento di 'fureur' contro la società e contro l'inerzia degli uomini" (p. 66).

Part II of this book, "La 'Pluralità dei discorsi'", opens with a chapter ("'Anormalità' e linguaggio della ragione: La Mort difficile") more personal, less tributary to criticism, which concerns La Mort difficile and Crevel's amorous passion for the American painter Eugene MacCown. For Francesco Cornacchia, La Mort difficile is "una variazione e un approfondimento di Détours" (p. 71). The young Italian academic gives substance to his thesis by comparing certain elements of the two works: "Che La Mort difficile possa essere una variazione di Détours, lo prova un dato importante: nei due romanzi i personaggi principali hanno identità formali diverse, ma in sostanza si somigliano molto. In La Mort difficile, Pierre Dumont, Diane Blok, Mme Dumont-Dufour (madre di Pierre), ricalcano rispettivamente i seguenti personnagi di Détours: Daniel, Scolastique-Cyrilla et la madre di Daniel. Solo Arthur Bruggle in La Mort difficile ha un ruolo ben più imprtante rispetto a quello marginale che aveva nel precedente romanzo, per una ragione che va individuata nelle biografia dell'autore" (p. 72). The modalities and motives of Crevel's rejection of reason, notions of "norm" and "normality", the use of psychoanalysis for social control purposes, are throughout these pages commented on with discernment. On the level of narrative procedures, distinguishing La Mort difficile (omniscient external narrator) from Détours (internal focalization) and from Mon Corps et moi (soliloquy), Cornacchia supports his demonstration by amplifying arguments developed previously in my thesis (René Crevel et le roman, Amsterdam/Atlanta, Rodopi B.V., 1993). His examination of the diegetic universe set up by Crevel leads him to consider the homosexual attraction of Pierre, the unhappy hero of La Mort difficile, and his suicide as "l'atto finale, benché estremo, della ricerca della libertà" (p. 98).

The following chapter ("Eros e coscienza raionale: Babylone") examines Babylone: to characterize this book, Francesco Cornacchia is inclined to borrow from Claude Courtot the expression "lyrical fiction" (p. 100). Our colleague insists on the poetic dimension of the book which, despite its denunciations, exalts the marvelous of childhood: "Tuttavia il lettore sarebbe deluso se cercasse in Babylone un discorso propagandistico, una tensione rivoluzionaria a carattere politico. Perd dedinizione la poesia è incompatibile con il lingguaggio stereotipato della propaganda; e in Babylone l'accenno ad una sommossa popolare emerge da una fantasia lirica" (p. 109). However, prisoner of the method adopted to conceive his book, Francesco Cornacchia is condemned to a sort of "review" of René Crevel's different works, which, notably here, exposes him to paraphrase and repetitions. Several considerations formulated however rightfully, about "la prostituzione delle parole nel Novecento, lo snaturamento del linguaggio e l'alterazione della misura del vero" (p. 114-115), do not manage to restore some luster to this somewhat dull ensemble.

The last part of this part II, "L'Identità solubile del personaggio nella condizione di 'rê-veille': Etes-vous fous?", starts from an observation, that of the "turning point" operated by René Crevel from the writing and publication of Etes-vous fous? This postulate implies the recall of the main theses (Claude Courtot, Fanch Rumin, Myrna Bell Rochester, Jean-Michel Devésa) maintained in the matter. Subsequently, Francesco Cornacchia suggests that the writer's interest in the Enlightenment philosopher Denis Diderot went hand in hand with his journey towards the social question. Under these conditions, Etes-vous fous? occupies a pivotal position. Cornacchia then backs his argumentation on that of Sylwia Gibs: "Sylwia Gibs fa notare che l'azione ha avvio con la rappresentazione dell'atto del 'réveil', con il passagio semantico dal 'rêve' alla 'veille'. La transizione segna altresì, per il personaggio, la perdita dell'identità, dato che, da questo momento, a caratterizzarlo sono proprio le sue mancanze" (p. 125). However another factor counted a lot. The failure of the analysis undertaken with Dr. Allendy, in the aftermath of his mother's death, comforted Crevel in his will to substitute for introspection and individualism the "coscienza della sofferenza delle masse" (p. 131). The hour is no longer for "'romantisme négateur', che in forme diverse prevale da Détours a Babylone" (p. 131).

Part III ("L'Impegno rivoluzionario") includes a first chapter titled "Dal Romanzo al pamphlet" in which Cornacchia affirms that "una sola voce, riconoscibile benché soggetta ad evoluzione, è all'origine di romanzi, pamphlets e testi critici che portano la firma di Crevel" (p. 137). But, for him, the "verve polemica e satirica" (p. 137) becomes predominant from 1927, with in particular L'Esprit contre la raison, then Le Clavecin de Diderot (1932) and Les Pieds dans le plat (1933). This inflection of writing corresponds to a change of orientation of the writer: "L'impegno politico, la possibilità di orientare la dissidenza personale verso un progetto di rivoluzione economica, politica e sociale, possono aver avuto per Crevel un senso salvifico" (p. 139). For the Italian critic, this new focalization was prepared, in the surrealist, by a conception of the family perceived as a micro-society ("un microscomo modellato ideologicamente dalla struttura sociale", p. 143). For Francesco Cornacchia, L'Esprit contre la raison consequently constitutes a transitional phase (from awakening to revolution) towards this pamphleteering writing (p. 149).

In a last chapter ("Fra Surrealismo e comunismo: Le Clavecin de Diderot, Les Pieds dans le plat"), Cornacchia specifies that René Crevel's personal evolution towards political action was "concomitanza" (p. 150) to that of the surrealist group desirous of situating itself "in the service of the Revolution". From this point of view, the date of March 11, 1929, corresponding to the famous meeting rue du Château, was capital. Francesco Cornacchia replaces these individual and collective preoccupations in their context: a Crevel concerned not to lock himself in "navel-gazing"; a surrealist movement in full "refoundation" (the "trial" brought against Roger Vailland, the publication of the pamphlet against Breton Un Cadavre and that of the Second Manifesto); the crisis opened by the Rif War and the colonial question. Also the text, Dali ou L'Anti-obscurantisme, that the writer writes in 1932 to salute the pictorial work of his friend Salvador Dali, and at the same time legitimize it in the eyes of other members of the group, translates and expresses this concern to ally his revolt and revolutionary activity: "Nel saggio del 1931, Dali ou l'anti-obscurantisme, fra i nomi di Eraclito, Luis Buñuel, Fernand Léger e Salvador Dali, emergono quelli di Engels e Taylor a testimoniare l'indissolubilità dei problemi dell'arte et della vita, la necessità di conjugare attività intellettuale e azione rivoluzionaria, dato che l'inazione porta a non comprendere il monde [...]" (p. 153). This impulse explains why Crevel wanted in all sincerity, – sometimes with the faith of the coal miner and without much hindsight (which saddened one of his friends, the anti-Nazi German writer Klaus Mann) –, to reconcile surrealism and communism, marxism and psychoanalysis. Cornacchia is not at all wrong to observe that with Le Clavecin de Diderot as with Les Pieds dans le plat Crevel was far from denying his surrealist ideals: "Tuttavia le aspirazioni rivoluzionarie non lo inducono ad abbandonare le rivendicazioni surrealiste" (p. 167). Similarly, the opinion of the Italian academic inclined to interpret the "absolute" revolt of René Crevel and his surrealist friends in light of anarchism does not lack pertinence: it was not by chance that the orthodox communists of the Third International mistrusted these "petty bourgeois". Trotskyist intransigence could not, in the long run, accommodate the marvelous and the dream. The rapprochement of André Breton and Léon Trotsky, their meeting, the attempt to create the F.I.A.R.I., changed nothing in the matter. The "libertarian" idealism of surrealism could only remain refractory to the statement of any "general line" and refractory to the recognition of the primacy of the political over the poetic (Benjamin Péret will proclaim it, to the great scandal of the right-thinking, with the publication of his Dishonor of Poets).

A bibliography accompanies Francesco Cornacchia's work: it will render great services to Italian readers who will want to pursue the discovery of Crevel. One will regret however that Cornacchia did not judge it indispensable to write a conclusion to his book. Indeed missing are a succinct recall of the results of his research and, above all, their putting into perspective. It is true that the remarks on which he ends his third part serve as such: "Il suicido di Crevel, uomo sincero e dotato di un autentico senso della libertà, potrebbe allora essere considerato come estremo gesto di une rivolta assoluta che transcende ogni progetto di rivoluzione puramente politica". It is not about sinking into academic formalism but some recapitulative and prospective pages intended to put a final point to this study would have been welcome.

Francesco Cornacchia demonstrates, with this book, his talent and his capacities to analyze a work which, evidently, is close to his heart. His work will have to be consulted, and not only in Italy, each time one will want to better grasp René Crevel's thought. No doubt that with experience and greater confidence in his own investigations, our colleague and friend, tomorrow, will be able to take an additional step: that of discussing the writer's intentions and a greater autonomy of tone. Francesco Cornacchia's "René Crevel" may not correspond to the vision that criticism has of him today but it will be, I am certain, fascinating to read.