Hissing Tales

Romain Gary’s Hissing Tales, originally published in 1962 and translated into English by Richard Howard in 1964, is the only collection of short stories to be published in his lifetime. Even then, according to biographer David Bellos, “the earliest individual pieces…date from 1945, and all but a handful were published long before 1962”. His decision to focus only on novels is not easily explained for, as Bellos goes on to point out, “the brevity of the genre obliged him to fewer self-repetitions and produced some of the finest of all the works that he wrote.”

A number of the shorter stories head towards a twist in the manner of Roald Dahl. In ‘A Craving for Innocence’, for example, the narrator decides to “abandon civilization with all the pretentious trappings they dare to call ‘values’ and withdraw to a Pacific island…as far as possible from a world entirely devoted to the pursuit of material things.” When a cake from one of the islanders comes wrapped in what seems to be a Gauguin canvas his desire to leave behind the idea of monetary value is tested, especially when he discovers there are more:

“There was at least thirty million francs worth of immortal art there.”

Everything, of course, is not as it seems, as is the case in the less gleeful ‘The Wall: A Christmas Tale’ where a lonely young man falls in love with his neighbour: “She was so pretty I didn’t dare to speak to her.” His heart is broken when he has to listen through the wall “for over an hour to veritable moans of voluptuous pleasure” and he hangs himself. Once again, with more bitter irony on this occasion, the true story is something quite different. Perhaps the most Dahl-like story is ‘The Fake’ in which one art collector tells another that his Van Gogh is fake. “All I ask you,” the other replies, “is that you refrain from expressing your opinion. Don’t throw your weight into the scale” but he refuses:

“It’s not enough, my friend, to be able to but beautiful paintings: we all have money. You also have to show some simple respect for authentic works.”

A month later he is sent a photograph of a young woman who looks a little like his wife but with “a particularly ugly nose shaped like a vulture’s beak.”

A few stories deal with the Second World War which Gary wrote about in novels such as Nothing Important Ever Dies and The Kites. In ‘The Oldest Story Ever Told’ he brings a satirical eye to the relationship between prisoner and guard when Schonenbaum, a Jew who has scaped from Lodz and is now living in La Paz, spots a fellow survivor, Gluckman. One night he follows him to make a surprising discovery demonstrating that for Gluckman the war is far from over. This is literally the case in ‘A Humanist’ where Karl Loewy, a Jewish toy manufacturer, having expected to remain safe in Nazi Germany thanks to old friends from the trenches, realises he must go into hiding. He does so in the cellar of his friend, Schultz, also temporarily signing over ownership of his factory. In what could simply be a tale of deception, Gary asks the question of whether Karl is, in fact, happier in his cellar with his books. ‘The Night of History’ is a more surreal approach to writing about the war, contrasting a journalist awaiting execution with the Nazi ‘Protector of Serbia’ who, in a conversation with the good soldier Schweik, worries there are too many non-Nazis in Heaven:

“We send millions of enemy souls up there, we give them transportation! We’re organising a fifth column of strong, resilient, stubborn souls, in many cases with advantage of serious religious support, and all hostile to us!”

Such surrealism plays its part in the final story, which would not be out of place among Kurt Vonnegut’s. In ‘The New Frontier’ humanity has reached a point where mutations are equipping humans for different environments. Horace McClurr is one of a number of mutated humans who are preparing to take to the seas having developed the attributes of a turtle:

“He still felt a certain attachment to the flowers, light and air of his ancestors. On the other hand, he really felt comfortable only when he had a little cool mud under his belly, and he adored swimming.”

The story is written in a humorous style, a spoof on the space race between America and the USSR. Horace’s son is told he cannot play with his friend as “he’s poisonous. The last time, when he bit you, you had to spend a week in bed.” As they enter the water, McClurr gets hit by a neighbour’s golf club who gives him the excuse, “My analyst told me to take some familiar object with me into the new element.” ‘The New Frontier’ demonstrates the range Gary can bring to his writing, never more evident than in this collection. Like most of his work, it remains criminally out of print.

Tags: 1962club, hissing tales, Romain Gary