Alain Veinstein's 'Dancing' Defies Novelistic Conventions

In 'Dancing,' published by Éditions du Seuil, Alain Veinstein presents a work labeled a novel but structured as a lengthy monologue. The unnamed narrator, a self-deprecating anti-hero haunted by his dead mother and harboring a violent post-mortem hatred for his father, embarks on a motorcycle journey toward a remembered dance hall in the South of France, the 'Lac rose,' later renamed 'Eldorado.' Along the way, he traverses burning suburbs set alight by rebellious adolescents, identifying briefly with their revolt before retreating into memories of circus performers. The narrative weaves in his past as an extra at the Théâtre du Châtelet in 'L'Auberge du Cheval Blanc,' his idolization of Luis Mariano, and a sexual initiation with an older prostitute. At the dance hall, he becomes infatuated with waitress Lucia, fantasizes about a ménage à trois with pianist Luca, narrowly avoids being assaulted by the toilet attendant, and ultimately suffers a humiliating fall while dancing with Lucia. The story shifts into parodic, violent territory reminiscent of 'A Clockwork Orange.' The narrator's admiration for Luca as an allegory of art reflects Veinstein's own empathy for artists, heard in his radio interviews on 'Les Nuits magnétiques.' The narrator, never named, mirrors the author, blurring creator and creature. Critic Marc Albert-Levin praises the work for its deceptive simplicity and layered self-reflection.