By Vidushi Singh

Week Three: Thinking with Aragon

The Paris Peasant by Louis Aragon is a wonderful culmination of intricate surrealism and elaborate imagery. I found myself deep in thought throughout this book and it felt as though I was a blind companion on a trip with Aragon.

Paris Peasant is described by the author to be the “mythology of the modern”, making many of us ponder what he means by that. The preface covers the meaning of it but I would like to share my initial impression of it first. When I think of mythology, a mental image of the Greek Gods shows up by default, but when breaking it down into just the word and what it means, I remember that it refers to stories. Stories that are so captivating that some may consider them to be true, but at the core of it, mythology is a collection of stories. “Mythology of the modern” which is alluding to modern mythology, refers to the popular stories and tales that are narrated in the media and pop culture today. I immediately get reminded of all the fiction stories that I have read in the past or watched renditions of. I formed the idea of modern mythology being the perception of seeing something as true to oneself, to an extent. After reaching that point, it is possible, or even in some cases definite, that the perception is not true and is actually very different from what is being perceived. An example of this type of myth is shown in the surrealistic sense which is there when Aragon described the beautiful siren whose distant beauty strikes a chord in him. The slow build-up to him being able to get a better view of the lady was so particularly executed that I myself was looking forward to find out who this woman was. Unfortunately, it was revealed that there was no woman and it was merely a specific angle through which the author had been looking into the cane shop where the canes resembled the figure of a lady. I was astonished by how many times the author was able to create this suspense only to provide anti-climatic reveals at the end. The descriptions though are certainly commendable as they take you through the process of how he processes what he sees. Like, when describing the color of the unusual dress worn by the saleswoman in the handkerchief shop, it took an entire paragraph for the author to finalize the exact shade which provided the readers, like me, a feeling of being included in the author’s journey through the streets of Paris.

Even when closing the book with the satisfaction of getting through all those elaborate surrealistic myths, I found myself sometimes thinking about the objects and places around me in a similar fashion. Here I go, defamiliarizing my water bottle to be called a liquid-holding cylinder that provides life-sustaining fluid!

What kind of impression has this book left on you?

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