You save 20%!
Corentin, a young man of humble origins, rises up in Parisian society, becoming a famous painter who is called upon to decorate the homes of Louis XIV’s mistresses. Yet his masterpiece is “The Eleven,” a revolutionary “Mona Lisa," a representation of the eleven members of the Committee of Public Safety (including Robespierre and Saint-Just) during the Reign of Terror.
Its feeling for art, its psychological acuity, its inclination for the grand statement, and its appeal to the lofty -- are multiplied throughout The Eleven to glorious ends. I cannot recommend the book highly enough."
—Christopher Byrd, B&N Review
This book. . . It will bring you to your knees."
—Le Nouvel Observateur
An admirable book, genius, completely dazzling and full of dread, dark and brilliant, as if radiating with a black light."
The painting 'The Eleven'. . . Michon describes it with such precision, with such force, that you start to think it exists."
[Michon's] aesthetic integrity and strict austerity have earned him the adoration of critics and made him worth teaching in every university."
Just over 100 stunning pages. . ."
A great book that, in an honest language, honed with gueuloir, was delivered to the world after years of labor, says the story."
—Le Magazine Litteraire
The Eleven is a fascinating book. And one that makes you think."
Praise for Small Lives: Rarely have I encountered a writer whose work felt so rewarding upon a first reading. . .Reading Small Lives, I felt profoundly that Michon was carrying on the mark of a true writer: one who speaks in his own voice while conveying with all its immediacy and flesh-and-blood possiblity of what it means to be human."
—Richard Kalich, The Review of Contemporary Fiction
Praise for Small Lives: In Small Lives by French author Pierre Michon, not only are we aware that we are reading great literature, but we have the privilege to accompany him on this journey in which he discovers the voice and style that make this an outstanding work of depth, substance and originality."
Michon's prose tends to slow down in order to oblige you to hear its rhythms and also to see and touch and smell what is happening beneath it."