The Review of Contemporary Fiction

I’m Gone by Jean Echenoz. Trans. Mark Polizzotti
Christopher Paddock

Jean Echenoz. I’m Gone. Trans. Mark Polizzotti. New Press, 2001. 195 pp. $22.95.

No longer satisfied with a life of monotonous routines, Felix Ferrer, a moderately successful art dealer, begins I’m Gone by walking out on his wife. From here, Ferrer disinterestedly moves through the novel as if by inertia, steadying himself in passing relationships with the many women he meets. As the novel progresses, chapters alternate between Ferrer’s voyage to and return from Canada to recover lost Boreal art and the comings and goings of Baumgartner—a solitary, meticulous figure whose dealings with a first-class slacker, The Flounder, lead to the eventual heist of Ferrer’s carelessly secured booty. Unfortunately, this subplot feels both out of place and derivative, spoiling an otherwise deft wit and fine handle of exposition by Echenoz. In an impossibly neat tie-up, Baumgartner is revealed as Delehaye, Ferrer’s recently “deceased” associate who urged him to recover the art. Simultaneously, Ferrer recovers his Eskimo treasures and falls seamlessly into a stable relationship with the only women he has failed to manipulate throughout the novel. His attempt at making the relationship more intimate, however, leads to a profoundly modern resignation on the part of Ferrer. The reader is left with Ferrer about to enter his old house to attend a New Year’s Eve party full of strangers. Ferrer’s solitude is vaguely reminiscent of the lonely characters of Joyce’s Dubliners or even Donleavy’s The Ginger Man. Powerful writing, indeed, but in no way complemented by the weak resolution of the recovery of the stolen art. Still, there is some truly excellent writing in this brief novel, and for that it is worth a glance. [Christopher Paddock]


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The Review of Contemporary Fiction I’m Gone by Jean Echenoz. Trans. Mark Polizzotti Christopher Paddock Jean Echenoz. I’m Gone. Trans. Mark Polizzotti. New Press, 2001. 195 pp. $22.95. No longer satisfied with a life of monotonous routines, Felix Ferrer, a moderately successful art dealer, begins I’m Gone by walking out on his wife. From here, Ferrer disinterestedly moves through the novel as if by inertia, steadying himself in passing relationships with the many women he meets. As the novel progresses, chapters alternate between Ferrer’s voyage to and return from Canada to recover lost Boreal art and the comings and goings of Baumgartner—a solitary, meticulous figure whose dealings with a first-class slacker, The Flounder, lead to the eventual heist of Ferrer’s carelessly secured booty. Unfortunately, this subplot feels both out of place and derivative, spoiling an otherwise deft wit and fine handle of exposition by Echenoz. In an impossibly neat tie-up, Baumgartner is revealed as Delehaye, Ferrer’s recently “deceased” associate who urged him to recover the art. Simultaneously, Ferrer recovers his Eskimo treasures and falls seamlessly into a stable relationship with the only women he has failed to manipulate throughout the novel. His attempt at making the relationship more intimate, however, leads to a profoundly modern resignation on the part of Ferrer. The reader is left with Ferrer about to enter his old house to attend a New Year’s Eve party full of strangers. Ferrer’s solitude is vaguely reminiscent of the lonely characters of Joyce’s Dubliners or even Donleavy’s The Ginger Man. Powerful writing, indeed, but in no way complemented by the weak resolution of the recovery of the stolen art. Still, there is some truly excellent writing in this brief novel, and for that it is worth a glance. [Christopher Paddock]

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