To the memory of the ephemeral goddess Sedna, whose huge body reached out across the depths of the Arctic seas, whose hair was forever matted, full of ordure, clogged with bear furs and the snouts of narwhales, and could be combed only by a shaman on one of his cosmic journeyes.The inukshuk are piles of rough stone, shaped like men, and found on the coasts of the Canadian Arctic. I am well aware that they have never found a place in (...) the history of statuary. However, they are unquestionably representations of the human form, and no one would confuse them with the simple cairns raised here and there by so many nomadic tribes in the course of their wanderings. They are disappearing, or have already disappeared with the recent, swift, and far reaching changes in Eskimo life. It is really almost a matter of chance as to whether one recognizes that they represent, or represented, a remarkable image of man. For me, the chance was a two-fold one, so to speak. (shrink)

We are pleased to offer our readers an unpublished article by Roger Caillois, a posthumous text which takes its place alongside his other studies on the myth and the imaginary. The octopus, the praying mantis and the fulgora in the real world led Roger Caillois to reflections similar to those which he exposes here relative to the narwhal and the imaginary unicorn. The importance of the unicorn in the author's work comes from the relationship established by the narwhal's tusk between (...) two squares on Roger Caillois’ chess board: myth and dissymmetry. (Editor's note). (shrink)

SubStance is pleased to present, for the first time in English, the Prologue and Epilogue from Roger Caillois's Pierres réfléchies. Pierres réfléchies is the last, and least cited, of Caillois's singular writings on stones, which are being rediscovered and reread in the contemporary geologic-philosophical-aesthetic context. Here, Caillois provides a final articulation of his mystical materialism and diagonal science, his hermetic reading of a cosmos composed of hieroglyphic signs, in which "stone… speaks… the most convincing language in the universe." These ruminations (...) from Pierres réfléchies display a deeper methodological discernment, and more somber humor, than the earlier works. Perhaps this is... (shrink)

The progress of knowledge consists in part of avoiding superficial analogies and discovering profound kinships, less apparent perhaps, but far more important and significant. In the eighteenth century there still appeared zoölogical works which classed animals according to the number of their paws, grouping, for example, the lizard with the bat. Today the adder appears under the same rubric—a creature that has no paws at all but that, like the others, is oviparous and covered with scales. These characteristics have appeared, (...) rightly, to be of more consequence than that which was singled out in the beginning—the number of paws. In the same fashion, it is well known that, despite its appearance, the whale is not a fish, nor is the bat a bird. (shrink)

It goes without saying that my intention is not to remind the reader that poetry exists. Everyone knows it. Instead, I propose to show that it is possible, from which it follows that it is. inevitable and that, being inevitable, it is justified. It is not. enough that a thing exist for it to be legitimate: it could be merely apparent, accidental or insignificant; it. could conceal some trick or have only a temporary justification. Even more, the same word—here, poetry—could (...) have successively designated different activities which in the end had no important relationship with each other. (shrink)

Writing history, in the humblest sense of the word, is above all a process of dating events, inscribing them in a chronology. Yet this framework, empty and elementary though it may appear, possesses nonetheless properties of its own, somewhat as real extension, the domain of orientation and weight, differs from pure geometrical space. Concrete time, too, has certain qualities, qualities which are not necessarily everywhere the same, and which take their configuration from the conception of the world particular to each (...) civilization. These local cosmologies remain implicit for the most part, even though they frequently give rise to doctrines which can be highly complex. Philosophers and theologians have framed such constructions, basing them to a certain extent on the body of astronomical knowledge which they found at their disposal. But these scholarly interpretations do not limit themselves to a mere translation of the factual data that an observation of the stars could provide. The astronomical data serve as simple points of orientation for the elaboration of vast graphs, on whose empty expanses the vicissitudes of history would trace their paths. These constructions are like niches erected in advance, awaiting the events to come, an immutable order of vintages to which the individual is so thoroughly accustomed that he finds it impossible even to conceive of a different disposition. (shrink)

I speak of stones that have always lain out in the open or sleep in their lair and the dark night of the seam. They hold no interest for the archaeologist, artist or diamond-cutter. No one made palaces, statues, jewels from them; or dams, ramparts, tombs. They are neither useful nor famous. They do not sparkle in any ring, any diadem. They do not publicize lists of victories, laws of Empire, carved in ineffable characters. Neither boundaries nor memorials, yet exposed (...) to the elements, but without honour or veneration, they are witnesses only to themselves. (shrink)

Learned and voluminous works, of course, have brought together and compared the representations men have fashioned for themselves of the Beyond—in other words, of the kind of life in store for them after death. Sometimes the authors of such compilations have tried to classify these imaginary worlds and discover by what secret laws the after-universes where the dead live were designed, and in what spaces, both near and irremediably separate, they were located. It is not always easy to reach them, (...) even if it is inevitable. As for returning, it is impossible, aside from a few legendary exceptions: a goddess, Ishtar; a fabled hero, Orpheus; a man who was raised from the dead but of whom nothing further is known, Lazarus. (shrink)

In an earlier study, De la féerie à la science-fiction, I tried to show the internal consistency and the chronological succession of fairy tales, fantastic stories and works of scientific anticipation or extrapolation. They represent three styles of the imaginary, and illustrate, each in its own way (“like hollow molds,” I said), the chief epochs of man's changing situation on his planet, as he himself saw it, more or less naively, in each case. First he depicted himself as powerless and (...) wonderstruck; then confident in science and technology, he considered himself the fortunate conqueror of the planet; and finally he saw himself as isolated and marginal in the immensity of space—just at the very time when he was learning to move about in it. (shrink)