What matters, is that tiny thing, that mysterious gleam, that sparkle, that hidden, secret jewel ... he discerns it anywhere, it shines, it scintillates timidly in the most wretched little slattern, in the saddest little monkey-face ... he possesses a sorcerer's wand, a dowser's rod which permits him to discover it, a powerful searchlight which peers into them, which seeks, but what does it hope to find? ... One is afraid, one feels like hiding ... One would like to help him, to guide him ... Is it that? An elf, a mysterious being, a delicate dancing flame? ... But they need not fear, he is never wrong. It's there in them, whatever they do, he sees it ...
|About the Author
In the English world, Nathalie Sarraute is one of the lesser known figures of the French New Novel, not having had quite the same level of exposure as Alain Robbe-Grillet or Marguerite Duras.
In addition to her fictional works, she is also known for her critical commentaries on such major 20th century literary figures as James Joyce.