The Fly-Truffler

There is little to say except this is one of the most lovely books I've read. The ending may be a little thin- but it doesn't matter. The rest of it is so stunning... I suggest anyone to read it who doesn't mind a bit of unabashed beauty.

This novel is written in four chapters - the second chapter, the story of a philology professor's romance with a student only justifies the cost of the book. Sobin's understanding of language - words as objects to be enjoyed, the importance of silence, of absent words - is remarkable. (You may note some similarities to Edmond Jabes.)Sobin's understanding of a person's rootedness in place and the effects of loss of place is another thread expression through the professor's estate of many generations, his cousin's emigration and his wife's orphanhood.At one point, the plot of the novel fails, becoming contrived but the grace and depth of the prose makes a reader ready to forgive the slip.An enjoyable novel with depth.

I first discovered Gustaf Sobin through his leading-edge poetics. From there I ventured into his novel of Provence, "Dark Mirrors". "The Fly-Truffler" is the second of his novels I have read, and it, too, is at the leading edge. Sobin's voice is as recognizable in his prose as it is in his poetry. It is a voice that refuses to let the reader not reach to grasp (or gasp) at it's excellence, which, although deliberate and technical to a degree, is as natural as breath. The poetry of Sobin's prose manifests itself mostly in its rhythm, and barely manages to not overshadow his stories and storytelling which are great feats in their own right. This is a one-sitting read.

A perfect moment of storytelling -- to be read in one sitting, thus inducing a dreamlike sense of place, love, loss and inspiration.

On December 31, 1999 my wife and I had a deliciously indulgent millennial dinner at March. The first course was a "beggar's purse" filled with truffles and topped with an edible shaving of 24-carat gold. (OK, so it was over-the-top indulgent.) This book by Gustaf Sobin reminded me of that first course: small, sensuous, exquisitely crafted, poetically expressive, unlike anything I had experienced before and celebratory of passages, of memory and moving on. "The Fly-Truffler" is Philippe Cabassac's elegy to his wife, Julieta, their intimate romance and her tragic death. But, most of all, it is an elegy to the passing of local languages and customs, to the loss of the simple country life. The poetic heart of the book is Philippe's recognition that Julieta is the embodiment of Haut Provence followed by the erotically charged consummation of their love by a waterfall, a memory ultimately restored through truffles. When you are finished with this appetizer, I would recommend "The Rings of Saturn" by W.G. Sebald as a second course of what is slowly becoming a literary feast of moving millennial contemplations.