Reviews"The sadness of this book is overwhelming. Yet at the same time it's a cause for happiness, because it's the final record of a writer who found, in the end, the correct vessel for his talents. In Suicide, Levé's fragments become wonderfully sharp, conjuring tragedy in a few sentences." -- Zadie Smith, "Suicide is not a fictionalized account of Levé's death; in some respects it is a negative image of it. 'You didn't leave any letters for loved ones to explain your death,' he writes, although Levé himself reportedly did. Levé's art and life nonetheless converge, fuse, and end brutally together. Ironically, Suicide represents a new departure for Levé: his previous books could be considered conceptual conceits, whereas Suicide is something else, a purely literary work. At the end of his life, Levé had by no means exhausted his art." --Hugo Wilcken, Berlin Review of Books "Levé's slender narrative possesses a near-clinical precision of detail, which functions as both a funeral oration and the chilling foretelling of his own death." --Publishers Weekly "A book that will never disappear, a book too provocative ever to be forgotten." --Jacques Morice "An astonishing novel." --Zadie Smith, author of White Teeth, "The suicide of a childhood friend--addressed here as "you"--elicits a reflective and dignified expression of wondering and grief in this last work by artist and writer Levé (1965-2007), who finished this novel 10 days before killing himself.... Leve's slender narrative possesses a near-clinical precision of detail, which functions as both a funeral oration and the chilling foretelling of his own death." --Publishers Weekly, " Suicide is not a fictionalized account of Levé's death; in some respects it is a negative image of it. 'You didn't leave any letters for loved ones to explain your death,' he writes, although Levé himself reportedly did. Levé's art and life nonetheless converge, fuse, and end brutally together. Ironically, Suicide represents a new departure for Levé: his previous books could be considered conceptual conceits, whereas Suicide is something else, a purely literary work. At the end of his life, Levé had by no means exhausted his art." --Hugo Wilcken, Berlin Review of Books "Levé's slender narrative possesses a near-clinical precision of detail, which functions as both a funeral oration and the chilling foretelling of his own death." --Publishers Weekly "A book that will never disappear, a book too provocative ever to be forgotten." --Jacques Morice "An astonishing novel." --Zadie Smith, author of White Teeth, "The suicide of a childhood friend -- addressed here as "you" -- elicits a reflective and dignified expression of wondering and grief in this last work by artist and writer Levé (1965--2007), who finished this novel 10 days before killing himself.... Leve's slender narrative possesses a near-clinical precision of detail, which functions as both a funeral oration and the chilling foretelling of his own death." -- Publishers Weekly, Suicide is not a fictionalized account of Levé's death; in some respects it is a negative image of it.... Levé's art and life nonetheless converge, fuse, and end brutally together. Ironically, Suicide represents a new departure for Levé: his previous books could be considered conceptual conceits, whereas Suicide is something else, a purely literary work. At the end of his life, Levé had by no means exhausted his art. --Hugo Wilcken, The Berlin Review of Books|9781564786289|, Suicide is not a fictionalized account of Levé's death; in some respects it is a negative image of it.... Levé's art and life nonetheless converge, fuse, and end brutally together. Ironically, Suicide represents a new departure for Levé: his previous books could be considered conceptual conceits, whereas Suicide is something else, a purely literary work. At the end of his life, Levé had by no means exhausted his art. -- Hugo Wilcken, The Berlin Review of Books|9781564786289|, Suicide is not a fictionalized account of Levé's death; in some respects it is a negative image of it. 'You didn't leave any letters for loved ones to explain your death,' he writes, although Levé himself reportedly did. Levé's art and life nonetheless converge, fuse, and end brutally together. Ironically, Suicide represents a new departure for Levé: his previous books could be considered conceptual conceits, whereas Suicide is something else, a purely literary work. At the end of his life, Levé had by no means exhausted his art., " Suicide is not a fictionalized account of Levé's death; in some respects it is a negative image of it. 'You didn't leave any letters for loved ones to explain your death,' he writes, although Levé himself reportedly did. Levé's art and life nonetheless converge, fuse, and end brutally together. Ironically, Suicide represents a new departure for Levé: his previous books could be considered conceptual conceits, whereas Suicide is something else, a purely literary work. At the end of his life, Levé had by no means exhausted his art. " --Hugo Wicken, The Berlin Review of Books "A book that will never disappear, a book too provocative ever to be forgotten." --Jacques Morice "An astonishing novel." --Zadie Smith, author of White Teeth, "The sadness of this book is overwhelming. Yet at the same time it's a cause for happiness, because it's the final record of a writer who found, in the end, the correct vessel for his talents. In Suicide, Levé's fragments become wonderfully sharp, conjuring tragedy in a few sentences." --Zadie Smith
Dewey Edition22
Synopsis"Suicide" cannot be read as simply another novel it is, in a sense, the author s own oblique, public suicide note, a unique meditation on this most extreme of refusals. Presenting itself as an investigation into the suicide of a close friend perhaps real, perhaps fictional more than twenty years earlier, Leve gives us, little by little, a striking portrait of a man, with all his talents and flaws, who chose to reject his life, and all the people who loved him, in favor of oblivion. Gradually, through Leve s casually obsessive, pointillist, beautiful ruminations, we come to know a stoic, sensible, thoughtful man who bears more than a slight psychological resemblance to Leve himself. But Suicide is more than just a compendium of memories of an old friend; it is a near-exhaustive catalog of the ramifications and effects of the act of suicide, and a unique and melancholy farewell to life.", Suicide cannot be read as simply another novel--it is, in a sense, the author's own oblique, public suicide note, a unique meditation on this most extreme of refusals. Presenting itself as an investigation into the suicide of a close friend--perhaps real, perhaps fictional--more than twenty years earlier, Levé gives us, little by little, a striking portrait of a man, with all his talents and flaws, who chose to reject his life, and all the people who loved him, in favor of oblivion. Gradually, through Levé's casually obsessive, pointillist, beautiful ruminations, we come to know a stoic, sensible, thoughtful man who bears more than a slight psychological resemblance to Levé himself. But Suicide is more than just a compendium of memories of an old friend; it is a near-exhaustive catalog of the ramifications and effects of the act of suicide, and a unique and melancholy farewell to life., Edouard Levé delivered the manuscript for his final book, Suicide, just a few days before he took his own life.
LC Classification NumberPQ2712.E87S8513 2011