I am starting a real-time review of Le Neveu de Rameau written in the Eighteenth Century by Denis Diderot. I originally read it in French during the late 1960s but have recently bought an English translation (Margaret Mauldon OUP 2006). My French is no longer up to scratch and I have wanted to reappraise this book as I now suspect it had a major effect on my later fiction, brainstorming, avant-gardeness, and, yes, the act of real-time reviewing itself. And more. We shall see.
The work has this engaging start:
“Rain or shine, it’s my habit, about five of an evening, to go for a stroll in the Palais-Royal. It’s me you see there, invariably alone, sitting on the d’Argenson bench, musing. I converse with myself about politics, love, taste, or philosophy. I give my mind licence to wander wherever it fancies. I leave it completely free to pursue the first wise or foolish idea that it encounters, just as, on the Allée de Foy, you see our young rakes pursuing a flighty, smiling, sharp-eyed, snub-nosed little tart, abandoning this one to follow that one, trying them all but not settling on any. In my case, my thoughts are my little flirts.”
THE REST OF THIS REAL-TIME REVIEW OF RAMEAU’S NEPHEW WILL APPEAR BELOW IN THE COMMENTS TO THIS POST…