From Book 3: Allons-y!

         In the spring of 1932, Breton was exerting more control over an ever-younger coterie, guiding the group’s activities and dominating the discussions. Yet, this did not appear to be entirely his choice. At the Prophete, Justine and I overheard him snarl in a corner to Tristan Tzara (“that Hungarian homunculus shaped like an anarchist’s bomb,”Continue reading “From Book 3: Allons-y!”

From Book 2: Conflicts

            Artaud’s own hair, neatly slicked back earlier, had slid loose because of the heat and now hung around his face. It looked strange, for his hair still had a few centimeters to grow until it attained the length it had been a year ago; it fell only to his cheekbones, a chestnut bowl ofContinue reading “From Book 2: Conflicts”

From Book 2: Youki

Huge snowflakes fell, crisp and glittering, etching the trees and the railings and the eaves in silver for a brief and fragile dusting. It was very cold, unusually so, and the slush on the sidewalks had turned to ice. “This is rare for Paris,” Louis remarked. “The first time I saw snow I was threeContinue reading “From Book 2: Youki”