The Tenant [Englisch] [Taschenbuch]

Roland Topor's book about city life alienation is one of the most brilliant pieces of horror I've read in some time; while reading it I couldn't help it but find some parallels between Topor's book and Thomas Ligotti's own "My Work is not yet Done". Ligotti himself also happens to write a great introduction to this book's main course, focusing on the differences between "pessimistic" receivers of the Novel prize for literature and the REAL pessimist writers that go unnoticed. Also included is a selection of four previously unpublished short stories and a brief gallery representative or Roland Topor's ink drawings.

But please, don't read Donna Di Giacomo's review on this page; I have no idea what she was thinking while writing it, but she pretty much fills it with SPOILERS for 75/80% of the novel, laying there for any unsuspecting readers to find and I have no idea why the amazon staff that usually checks these reviews before public viewing gave it the green light.. Fortunately for me I finished the book long before finding that spoiling wreck, but others might not be that lucky, and this is a very good book to have it mercilessly ruined like that.

Roland Topor's "The Tenant" is nothing if not original; the author impresses his nightmarish worldview without leaving us a moment to draw breath, and as we read deeper and deeper into the tragic tale of M. Trelkovsky we can't help but share his vision, at least for the duration of the novel.

I've long been a fan of the 1976 Roman Polanski film and often wondered why it was so obscure. After reading Topor's novel, I had to appreciate how beautifully Polanski translated this very complex and disturbing work to the screen. Comparing it with the movie you realize Polanski left out only what he absolutely had to, and that wasn't much.

At the outset it seems that Trelkovsky is an average joe who lives in a world of material necessity, habitual discourtesy from others, and bullies. Actually I think this is kind of the point of the novel and the movie: that we inhabit a world of discourtesy, ugliness, and any sensitive or kind impulse we possess will slowly be beaten out of us by the harshness of the people we encounter. We are all bullies to an extent, but the bigger ones will eventually discover us and dictate our lives for us.

We realize fairly quickly that Trelkovsky is not an average joe at all, at least not after moving into Monsieur Zy's apartment. Topor does an amazing job of making the most revolting monsters out of otherwise unremarkable characters; more of his work really needs to be translated, because this is as good as anything Gogol or even Kafka achieved in bringing out the menacing, grotesque qualities of daily encounter. He is mercilessly scrutinized by his neighbors who are, it seems, anal retentive to the point of insanity and are the kind of people who go out of their way to torment an impoverished woman with a disabled child.

Trelkovsky happens to move into the very apartment where a young woman, Simone Choule, committed suicide. Topor uses this as the catalyst for Trelkovsky's eventual erosion of identity and madness. His gradual obsession with this mysterious young woman who in the end we learn very little about (aside from things like her reading tastes, her fashion sense which becomes well known to Trelkovsky in a quite unorthodox way, etc) is paramount in what he perceives as a self-destructive vengeance against his tormentors.

The last few pages of the novel are when things get really disturbing and we realize just how far around the bend Trelkovsky has gone. I couldn't help thinking that there was something very symbolic about his perception of the bathroom opposing his apartment--the lack of a stench, the inhuman cleanliness of Monsieur Zy and the rest of the gang--in opposition to their abhorrent behavior. These are people who will not admit they are people. The slightest sound has them rapping frantically on Trelkovsky's walls, his trash itself seems out of place in their tidy garbage cans, and seemingly do nothing but work, sleep, and bother others to no end. Topor is deadly serious for the most part here, but is also making a hilarious comment on our animality all that more funny for its subtletly. Topor's stories at the end are equally bleak yet have a bit more comedy in them, very dark comedy. The artwork at the end reflects perfectly the mind of the author and is thoroughly enjoyable.

Thomas Ligotti's introduction couldn't be more ideal. Being a fan of his fiction I realized that this is the kind of thing he himself might have written, and the difference in writing style between himself and Topor is actually very slight. He makes a razor sharp distinction between "insiders" and "outsiders" in literature and while that may seem a limited dichotomy at first, after he does the grim explaining you immediately understand. This is as good a piece of literature as any I have read and one of the most intense reading experiences I have ever had. A must read!

Thomas Ligotti, in the introduction to 'The Tenant', advocates the idea that Roland Topor resolved the dilemma posed by the central theme of his novel - that identity is only a delusion - while firmly positioned as an 'outsider'. Outsider, as in disenfranchised, excluded, alien. Insiders are allowed to bring tolerable solutions only, whether true or not - the world demands it. The outsider thumbs his nose at what the world wants; his obligation is to tell the truth as he sees it. It's no wonder, then, that 'The Tenant' is a horror story. The world does not nourish an outsider - it attacks him, and while Roland Topor may have been interested in identity and illusion, what he stunningly brought home to me was just how foul the assault on the outsider is.

In 'The Tenant', a young man named Trelkovsky needs a new apartment. As they are scarce in the city, he feels lucky to find one recently vacated - by a female suicide. Once settled, he tries to conform to the building's standards, but right away, his neighbors begin chastising him for the slightest noise. He alters his behavior to placate them, and avoids his friends to keep them from visiting - and making more noise. Weeks later, someone burglarizes his apartment, and steals his personal items. Slowly he becomes a cipher; and the fiends surrounding him conspire to change him into the person they want him to be - a copy of the woman who previously occupied the apartment. Even more sinister, they will continue until he suffers the same end as she.

Trelkovsky divines their scheme and at first he effusively complies, hoping they will be satisfied with the transformation alone. Later, when that fails, he attempts to escape, but fate inexorably returns him to his apartment, where his neighbors eventually bend him to their will. At the last, he witnesses ungodly sights out of his window overlooking the building's courtyard - and whether Topor meant for the hellish spectacle to be real or the result of a hallucinogenic madness, either is equally sufficient to drive Trelkovsky completely over the edge.

On one hand, the reader might find Mr. Topor's commentary ineffective; much like his character Trelkovsky's passionate, shouted expose of his neighbor's designs near the end of the book is also useless. They are both shouting at the world, which already fully realizes its intentions toward these outsiders. However, I believe there is value here, because while I fervently hope never to find myself in Trelkovsky's extreme situation, I must always recognize that it is extremely possible.

For its themes and warnings, 'The Tenant' is excellent, but I would not recommend a steady diet of similar literature, as the implication of the subject matter is simply too bleak for me. That doesn't make it any less true, but overindulgence in such nihilistic and gloomy ideas by an impressionable reader could leave a negative mark. As far as the writing itself, I'd consider it well done except toward the end where there were some awkward transitions - but the power of Mr. Topor's writing is not in his craft but in his ideas.

Aesthetically, Millipede Press did a fantastic job with this edition, which also includes four of Mr. Topor's out-of-print short stories and a sampling of his artwork (I'm no art critic, but elements there remind me of the surreal and absurdist landscapes of Jim Woodring.) I look forward to other obscure titles this small imprint is bringing out, even if, as in 'The Tenant', the contents are grim and the resolution rather discouraging.