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Before reading “Paris Peasant” by Louis Aragon, I was a little cautious yet intrigued with what a “novel-that-was-not-a-novel” could mean. After the previous week, I knew for certain this collection of literature was not something I was used to, so diving into this text, I wasn’t sure what to expect (or not expect). Honestly, like … Continue reading Week 3: Aragon’s “Paris Peasant” → read full post >>

Reading Aragon’s Paris Peasant felt like a brain workout at one hand, and an imaginary escape at another. With a conventional bias, I struggled to find the “plot” of the story, like many of my peers reading this book. I constantly searched for a plot; however, in the process of doing so, I realized that […] read full post >>

Before reading Paris Peasant, I learned that this novel is more of a “novel-that-was-not-a-novel”, which was an idea I found quite interesting as I had never read a novel like this. Therefore, I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect from this novel.  As I read the novel, I felt pretty lost, as what was happening […] read full post >>

I think the quote, “I find myself unable to place complete confidence in any notion I may have of the universe without first subjectifying that notion to an abstract examination” (8), perfectly summarizes this novel. Paris Peasant‘s narrator either thinks too much, believes he has to share each thought as he experiences them, or a […] read full post >>

  This week’s book really threw me for a loop. Throughout the story, I was trying to question what I was reading in hopes of understanding the story, and the meaning behind it all, but most times my thoughts came up blank. My understanding was that Argon’s goal was to emphasise the idea of surrealism, …

Continue reading "Aragon, Paris Peasant"

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This book was quite a mind-bending trip. Fun to read, but also made no sense. I liked it. 

The main feeling that I got from the narrator was a sense of nostalgia, a sense of time passing way too fast for his liking. As he took us on a tour of the various, curious little shops and stores around the neighborhood, I felt a desperation to hold onto each little moment that he was showing us in perfect preservation for as long as I could. The way he described each place in such immense, careful detail made me feel sad knowing that they were soon to be demolished and replaced. The word ephemeral kept coming to mind throughout my reading of this book. I thought about how the older I get, the faster time seems to fly by. When I was a small kid, I wanted nothing more than to grow up and get to what I thought was going to be the beginning of my life. What I didn't know then was that when I finally grew up, I would want nothing more than to go back and experience the little mundane moments of my childhood just one more time. No matter how many times an adult tells a child to enjoy their youth while it lasts, the ephemerality of life seems to be a phenomenon that one never understands until they are grown up and it becomes their turn to repeat the same words to another kid.

I especially liked the last couple of pages. It was like a summary of all the author's final thoughts and epiphanies about the state of love, truth, mind and reality. For me, those couple of pages were the ones that simultaneously made the most and the least sense out of everything that the author wrote in Paris Peasant. This quote stood out: "It matters very little to me whether or not I have reason on my side. I do not seek to be right. I seek the concrete." It's like he has the freedom to say exactly what he wants very carelessly but also very thoughtfully because he's not afraid of making mistakes, because he doesn't see making mistakes as a problem or as something to worry about while he speaks - he just speaks to seek the concrete. 

Here is my question for everyone: Was this book worth reading? As in, do you feel that you personally extracted something of value or utility from this confusing text? 

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This book was quite a mind-bending trip. Fun to read, but also made no sense. I liked it. 

The main feeling that I got from the narrator was a sense of nostalgia, a sense of time passing way too fast for his liking. As he took us on a tour of the various, curious little shops and stores around the neighborhood, I felt a desperation to hold onto each little moment that he was showing us in perfect preservation for as long as I could. The way he described each place in such immense, careful detail made me feel sad knowing that they were soon to be demolished and replaced. The word ephemeral kept coming to mind throughout my reading of this book. I thought about how the older I get, the faster time seems to fly by. When I was a small kid, I wanted nothing more than to grow up and get to what I thought was going to be the beginning of my life. What I didn't know then was that when I finally grew up, I would want nothing more than to go back and experience the little mundane moments of my childhood just one more time. No matter how many times an adult tells a child to enjoy their youth while it lasts, the ephemerality of life seems to be a phenomenon that one never understands until they are grown up and it becomes their turn to repeat the same words to another kid.

I especially liked the last couple of pages. It was like a summary of all the author's final thoughts and epiphanies about the state of love, truth, mind and reality. For me, those couple of pages were the ones that simultaneously made the most and the least sense out of everything that the author wrote in Paris Peasant. This quote stood out: "It matters very little to me whether or not I have reason on my side. I do not seek to be right. I seek the concrete." It's like he has the freedom to say exactly what he wants very carelessly but also very thoughtfully because he's not afraid of making mistakes, because he doesn't see making mistakes as a problem or as something to worry about while he speaks - he just speaks to seek the concrete. 

Here is my question for everyone: Was this book worth reading? As in, do you feel that you personally extracted something of value or utility from this confusing text? 

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This reading had me reading with caution based off the fact that it was in evidently written off well-developed, personally-deep opinions and ideas. Majority of the book is written in often disorienting surrealism and although there is some imagery I would not characterize it as vivid. Surroundings of the specific Arcade, or mini-mall, are described […] read full post >>

This week I was challenged with the novel Paris Peasant by Louis Aragon. Although I found myself struggling to find a plot, the key themes and meanings behind the text stood out to me and I think I was able … Continue reading → read full post >>

Louis Aragon's Paris Peasant is a very interesting text. It does not depend on a plot to tell a story, as it is a confusing retelling of events. It reminds me in ways of the last book we read. There was not much told and it was told almost as if it were thoughts. Once again, it felt like there was a lot of description for very little content, which is not a bad thing. It makes the reader think more thoughtfully in an attempt to grasp the greater meaning of the text. 

Paris Peasant is a very important piece of literature to surrealism as it depends on the reader being able to use their imagination. Aragon relies heavily on description to invoke feelings within the reader. He is able to relate to a wide audience range by using everyday experiences. He explores the underbelly of Paris in a very thoughtful way. "The trouble is that you fail to appreciate the limitless strength of the unreal. Your imagination, my dear fellow, is worth more than you imagine." (page 61) This quotation stuck out to me as I feel it described one of the major themes of the text. It encapsulates the goal of the surrealism movement as imaginary and avant-garde. I also just found this quotation very thought provoking as it makes one wonder, if imagination was not scorned through adulthood, would there be a difference in the world? Throughout the reading, you can tell that the author truly believed in the importance of surrealism and its contribution to the literary world. 

The author uses personification for various objects and themes. This creates a more vivid image in the minds of readers. It makes the reading more enjoyable as you feel you are imagining exactly what the author intended. 

A major theme I found troubling in this reading was the depiction and objectification of women. He gets lost on tangents discussing women's hair, eyes and bodies. My greatest issue with old literature is how women are depicted in the minds of the authors or narrators. It is an obvious answer to my question, but why has there always been a fixation on the appearances of women in literature? So often the quality of a woman is dependent on the way she presents herself. It has always saddened me that male authors present women in an objectified context. Aragon relies on the old 'ideal' woman as submissive and shy, waiting to be pursued. Has the idea of a woman needing to be pursued continued on and negatively affected the way that our generations understand dating? 

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