Mouroir by Breyten BreytenbachMouroir by Breyten Breytenbach


byBreyten Breytenbach

Paperback | March 27, 2009

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Breytenbach composed this docu-dream during a period of incarceration. Mouroir (mourir: to die + miroir: mirror) is a ship of thought moving with its own hallucinatory logic through a sea of mythic images, protean characters and what the author describes as "landscapes and spaces beyond death, spaces that have always existed and will always exist." An Orphic voyage into memory and mirage, through passages between death and life, darkness and light, oppression and flight, sense and the sensed. Mouroir.
An outspoken human rights activist, Breyten Breytenbach is a poet, painter, memoirist, essayist and novelist. His paintings and drawings have been exhibited around the world. Born in South Africa, he emigrated to Paris in the late ’60s and became deeply involved in the anti-Apartheid movement. Author of All One Horse, A Season in Parad...
Title:MouroirFormat:PaperbackDimensions:279 pages, 6.5 × 6.3 × 0.7 inPublished:March 27, 2009Publisher:Steerforth PressLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:0980033071

ISBN - 13:9780980033076

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Read from the Book

Now, in retrospect, it is difficult to remember exactly how or precisely when it happened. You should be like the elephant, the animal which can remember all its earlier lives in visions, which stands there contemplating without moving, and then chews the cud: grass, all grass. A life is the metamorphosis of the earlier one(s). A clever man has said – if civilizations can survive only through metamorphosis then the world consists of that which has been forgotten. (But another sly one objected that the living constitute the memory – event and thought – of the dead.) I’d love to see and to recognize a black elephant. Black he must be, but not rubbery. Rather more like silk. Silk that by candlelight has a silvery skin as if of frozen dew when day breaks over the dunes. And its eyes must be huge and dark, and mild, a concentration of the night, the night bumped; and with long eyelashes.

Editorial Reviews

Yet this is not a prisoner's book. It would be a crass injustice of underestimation and simplification if it is presented and received that way. It describes how the ordinary time-focus of a man's perceptions can be extraordinarily rearranged by a definitive experience… Prison irradiates this book with dreadful enlightenments; the dark and hidden places of the country from which the book arises are phosphorescent with it. Breytenbach is a writer who carries his whole life with him, all the time . . . and who possesses a creative ability equal to his experience. His imagery is so exquisite, chilling, aphoristic, witty, that one is reminded how that ancient and most beautiful attribute of writing has fallen into desuetude in prose. —Nadine GordimerMouroir is a complex, demanding, haunting book. It stands as a brief for the act of writing, writing as an exercise of imagination and will . . . the blend between fantasy and reality, the lyric intensity of a narrative consciousness which refuses to be pinned down to one identity or a single mode of existence. —John Edgar Wideman