Silvia Baron Supervielle. La rive orientale.

Meyer, E. Nicole

Paris. Seuil. 2001. 198 pages. 4.94 [euro]. ISBN 202-047783-1

BORN IN BUENOS AIRES and now over-thirty-year inhabitant of Paris, the prolific translator and novelist Silvia Baron Supervielle strikingly evokes the difficulties of reconciling two languages and two continents. The "rive orientale" (the other side of the Rio de la Plata that separates Buenos Aires and Montevideo) calls out to the central character whose nebulous identity translates into his being named first simply "il," second "le nouveau venu," then "l'inspecteur" or the more descriptive "Inspecteur des douanes." It is only upon learning the identity of his mother, who abandoned him shortly after his birth, that he takes a name, her name. In this rather strange work, the relationship between mother and daughter provides the most compelling aspect of this novel. While Clara marries the inspector, her life seems obsessively devoted to communicating with her mother, Clarita, who herself, although returning this devotion in equal fashion, marries her late husband's twin brother. The inspector, in turn, seeks connection to his source, his own unknown mother.

Women form the core of any relationship in this work where the men circulate (much like the water that flows around an island, never truly touching the heart of the land it caresses). Perhaps the men who passionately miss their native countries seek refuge in these women, whose almost exclusive love for each other prevents their mates from landing on new soil and thus any possibility of assimilating to their newly adopted homelands. In addition, each man must "choisir entre son pays et sa femme," an irreconcilable choice that leads to the suicides of both of Clarita's husbands upon realizing the futility of their efforts. The inspector's desire for home(land) is further complicated by the lack of knowledge of his parentage. "Il ne connait pas le lieu," writes Supervielle, and thus "n'accede pas au mouvement." Without roots, he cannot move or cross over from one shore to another. This inability contrasts sharply with the responsibilities of his job. As the customs inspector he determines who can cross the border into the country and who must return to their original point of departure. Finding his roots, however, permits the inspector to become named, and thus to write, "C'est lui qui est devenu la source."

Stylistically, a more concise book would highlight the originality of the author's questionings of identity, origins, and finding one's source. Further layers of metaphor involving stasis and movement could then clearly emerge. The novel's degree of description occasionally detracts from the beauty of the author's metaphorical originality.

E. Nicole Meyer
University of Wisconsin, Green Bay