The Award

The structure of this experimental satire is dangerously simple: composed like a play (entirely spoken except for a few stage-directions) and set at the awards ceremony of a prosperous automobile factory, the novel devotes each chapter to a speech, spoken either by a worker receiving an award or by a company executive. With an odd mixture of threats and flattery, the executives present a corporate strategy unabashedly designed to control and subdue as much of the workers' lives as possible. The execs offer helpful hints (or commands) on everything from how and when to masturbate to how to deal with ""female"" subordinates: ""Gaze at them tenderly. Gently murmur your orders. Be suave. Be chivalrous. Women, like dogs, are also responsive to touch."" The irony mounts in the speeches of the workers. After effusively thanking their superiors for their medals, they relate (with varying degrees of frankness) how the company has ruined their lives. One worker has taken to beating his family; another is represented by his wife, who explains that the gradual and indelible blackening of his skin by chemicals has driven him to suicide. Salvayre's style elicits more curiosity than the characters do--and rewards it beautifully. With never a false note, Salvayre takes the Aristotelian unities so dear to the French theatrical tradition and uses them to layer absurdity on macabre absurdity in a manner that would make Moliere proud. This superbly translated double satire of modern industry and classical drama makes a brilliant English-language debut for one of France's most virtuosic young novelists. (Sept.)