By Raymond Queneau
Only a pataphysician nurtured lovingly on surrealist extra can have get a hold of The Blue plants, Queneau's 1964 novel.
At his loss of life in 1976, Raymond Queneau used to be one in every of France's most outstanding males of letters––novelist, poet, essayist, editor, scientist, mathematician, and, extra to the purpose, pataphysician. And just a pataphysician nurtured lovingly on surrealist extra can have get a hold of The Blue flora, Queneau's 1964 novel, now reissued as a brand new instructions Paperbook. To a pataphysician all issues are equivalent, there isn't any development or growth within the human situation, and a "message" is an invention of the benighted reader, by no means the writer or his puzzling creations––the candy, fennel-drinking Cidrolin and the rampaging Duke d'Auge. heritage is generally what the duke rampages through––700 years of it at 175-year clips. He refuses to campaign, clobbers his king with the "in" toy of 1439––the cannon––dabbles in alchemy, and makes a decision that these musty caves down at Altamira desire a little bit of polishing up. in the meantime, Cidrolin within the Nineteen Sixties lolls on his barge moored alongside the Seine, sips essence of fennel, and ineffectually attempts to trap the graffitist who nightly defiles his fence. yet commonly he naps. Is it only a twist of fate that the duke looks merely whilst Cidrolin is sleeping? And vice versa? within the culture of Villon and Céline, Queneau tried to carry the language of the French streets into universal literary utilization, and his mad word-plays, undesirable puns, bawdy jokes, and anachronistic wackiness were stored amazingly and glitteringly intact by means of the incomparable translator Barbara Wright.