A Void by Georges Perec Read Free Book Online

last drop o'
    last man", as a charming patois had it in an inn into which many
    locals would crowd for a warming drink on concluding a hard
    day's work outdoors. In addition to which, it was always dark
    and always drizzling - a cold, thin, stabbing, British sort of rain-
    fall. Thus you wouldn't go far wrong in supposing that only
    miraculous odds (I fancy a Christian would put it down to God
    working in mystical ways and is probably right to do so; but
    fiction has an intrinsic duty to contradict such an illusion of
    propitiatory fatality; for if not, what's its point?) - in supposing,
    as I say, that only miraculous odds could account for Aignan's
    surviving up to and including his 18th birthday. But I mustn't
    run on too quickly . . .
    Anyway, on or about Aignan's 18th birthday, Sibylla, in a man-
    sion fashionably got up a la brabanfon or flamand, is still doting, if now posthumously, on poor Willigis (or Willo) and turning
    down all invitations to marry. A rich and rutting Burgundian
    aristocrat pays court. Sibylla simply says no. "What!" says this
    aristocrat in a purplish paroxysm of wrath, prior to razing half
    of Hainault and marching on Cambrai.
    3 0
    But wait . . . At this point in my story, to Cambrai, clippity-
    clop, clippity-clop, riding Sturmi, his black and bay brown
    Anglo-Norman stallion, clippity-clop, clippity-clop, gallops a
    knight-at-arms, with all you could ask for in youthful vigour and
    good looks. Brought to Sibylla's mansion, this dazzling young
    paladin charms his monarch, who commissions him to slay his
    Burgundian rival. "Your wish is my command," fair Sir Adonis
    says instantly, kissing his lady's hand and adding wittily, "And,
    may I say, your command is actually my wish."
    Mounting Sturmi, with its saffron housing and its caparison
    of indigo, and illustrious in his own gold strappings inlaid with
    opal, his cloak, his broad cuirass and his coat of armour, Adonis
    gallops out into a sort of oblong paddock with paling all around
    it. A fish adorns his standard; and a long standing ovation from
    his Braban^on champions totally drowns out an irruption of scur-
    rilous anti-Braban^on sloganising from a mob of Burgundian
    hooligans and paid agitators.
    What a bloody clash of arms it is, with onslaught following
    onslaught, mortal blow confuting mortal blow, chain mail
    clashing clamorously against chain mail, attacks by harpoon and
    spontoon, hook and crook! In all it lasts a full day. Finally,
    though, by a cunning ploy, young Adonis dismounts his rival:
    victory is his.
    Brabant and Burgundy mutually disarm. Joyful carillons ring
    out in both lands. Floors throb to dancing, walls to playing of
    hautboys, horns and drums, roofs to toasting of this artful young
    paladin — now, by a logical promotion, known as Grand Admiral
    of Brabant. And, complying with a royal summons, our Grand
    Admiral pays an additional visit to Sibylla's mansion. Boy looks
    at girl, girl looks at boy . . . imagining how it turns out is child's
    play (or, should I say, adult's play).
    Oh you, browsing or scanning or skimming or dipping into
    my story, or actually studying it word for word, moving your
    lips as you go, I must now throw light on a startling twist in its
    tail, though you no doubt know without my having to inform
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    you who it is that Sturmi is carrying on its caparison - why,
    that's right, it's Aignan.
    Aignan, though, still blissfully ignorant of Sibylla's kinship
    with him, falls into just that trap in which Oi'dipos was caught.
    And Sibylla, ignorant of Aignan's analogous kinship, falls into
    just that trap in which Jocasta was caught. For Sibylla admits to
    an infatuation with Aignan. And Aignan admits in his turn to
    an infatuation with Sibylla. And, without a filial qualm, Aignan
    starts fornicating with Sibylla. And Sibylla, not surprisingly, starts
    fornicating back.
    Luckily or unluckily - it's hard to know which - Aignan all
    too soon finds out what kind of filiation it is that links him