SOURCE: Madden, Marilyn I. “Imagery in Giono's Novels, with Special Consideration of La Naissance de l'Odyssée.” French Review 46 (1973): 522-34.

[In the following essay, Madden makes a statistical analysis of the nature of the imagery in La Naissance de l'Odyssée.]

Jean Giono's greatest originality as a novelist lies in his incorporation into his novels of the poetic device of imagery. This is a device especially suited to his earlier works, which are mostly concerned with the creation of an atmosphere, or perhaps even of a world view. It is a device which he has exploited to a greater extent than other novelists, and it is primarily due to this device that he holds his place in French literature. The general characteristics of Giono's imagery have been revealed, especially by Charlotte Dietschy and Stephen Ullmann.¹ The most salient of these is the use of imagery in order to fuse into a single unity all forms of life: human, animal, vegetable, and the elements and forces of nature. Personification and animism, solidification and liquefaction, the concretization of the abstract frequently occur in this fusion. A dynamic quality pervades it. A kind of paganism underlies it.

A more precise notion of the significance of the items used in his imagery might be obtained from a statistical analysis of their relationships, showing the frequency of their appearance and their function in the image. Such an analysis might also reveal to what extent imagery contributes to the dissemination of Giono's vision of life. My purpose here is to present this analysis.² In addition, I would like to consider some special aspects of La Naissance de l'Odyssée, a work which is sometimes, and very unjustly, neglected. Imagery is more abundant in La Naissance de l'Odyssée than in Giono's other works. This is due in part to the inclusion of the Greek gods. It is also more varied, for the same reason. The story concerns the influence of the gods and of myth upon the psychology of the characters,³ a subject which lends itself to imagery. Consequently, imagery contributes more to the composition of this novel than to that of the others. For these reasons, it is this book which I have chosen to examine. It will also be the basis for my statistical analysis.

CHART OF STATISTICS

La Naissance de l'Odyssée

Category	Tenors	Vehicles	Total
Human being	474	255	729
Animal	14	218	232
Plant	85	140	225
Water and other liquids (includes ports and boats)	129	137	266
Air (includes sky and weather)	92	42	134
Earth	80	30	110
Forces of nature	51	18	69
Gods	41	13	54
Total number of images			790

The disparity which exists between the total number of images and the total number of vehicles and tenors is explained in the second footnote. The omission of instances in which it is not clear whether the animal or the human being is intended is explained in the text.

The following general categories, presented in the order of decreasing importance, will serve for the classification of Giono's images: (1) human life; (2) animal life; (3) plant life; (4) elements of nature (subdivided into water, land, and fire); and (6) the gods.

HUMAN LIFE

Some aspect of the human being appears in approximately five-eighths of the images in La Naissance de l'Odyssée. Over two-fifths of all tenors and vehicles⁴ concern people, and two-thirds of these are tenors. Thus, there are considerably more comparisons of man to something else than the reverse. This is a feature which will be explained later.

Within the category of human-oriented imagery, further subdividing produces the following information: the greatest number of the images which deal with the human being (almost two-sevenths) concern the human body or something characterizing it, such as breathing or wounds. Thus, Giono places strongest emphasis upon the physical aspects of man. The following example is typical of this category: “ses longs doigts maigres pareils à des faisceaux de sarment” (p. 45). The next one is typical of its use in the vehicle: “Les mains du vent faisaient s'entrechoquer les grenades” (p. 20).

The second major subdivision within this category (one-fifth of the tenors and vehicles involving the human being) is the human mind. This includes mental states, reactions and creations (such as memory, imagination or dreams), and emotions. Of these, nine-tenths are tenors. And since these nine-tenths make up one-third of all the tenors of the general category of man, this explains the surprising proportion of tenors to vehicles in this general category. The tenors which fall within this group are, of course, always abstract, and the purpose of the image is to render them concrete. This intensifies them, makes them more vivid to the reader by their association with something physical. This type of imagery, which associates the abstract within man with the concrete outside of man, is the reverse of that which occurs in the “roman d'analyse.” The latter attempts to explain man's actions in the physical world by means of ideas, of abstractions. Giono pictures man's thoughts, emotions, states of mind, imaginings by means of the physical world.

At the same time as he associates the human being with the external world, he relates the external world with man through personification: “La mer … ses molles lèvres vertes baisaient sans relâche … la dure mâchoire des roches” (p. 13). This personification also involves an association with the physical aspects of man, his body, something relating to it, or an action. Association with his mind or emotions, though not absent (“la cautèle des eaux” p. 13; “l'eau encore émue” p. 211; “cette égoïste fontaine” p. 173), is comparatively rare. Thus, the majority of the images involving man add, in some way, to the emphasis Giono places upon the sensory and particularly the solid.

Another characteristic which is evident in this category of Giono's images is the presence of action. One-sixth of them include a motion involving in some manner the human body. Two-thirds of these occur in the vehicle. As in the following example: “Ulysse vit s'avancer l'étouffante nuit, une petite étoile sourire” (p. 90), man's actions add a dynamic quality to the rest of the universe.

Giono's awareness of sound is also visible in this category of imagery. One-sixth of the tenors and vehicles refer to man's voice. In the following example, human sound serves for personification: “On entendait rire des eaux” (p. 80). The reverse is more common, however. Between one-half and two-thirds of these references are in the tenor: “Leur caquet cliquetait plus haut que les braises” (p. 48). Onomatopoeia adds to this image, since the sounds of the words reproduce the sounds of the women.

In summary, the major characteristics of Giono's use of the human being in his imagery are: heavy emphasis upon his body, concretization of the manifestations of his mind, and allusions to him for personification.

ANIMAL LIFE

The second most important of the subjects of Giono's imagery is the animal. Between one-fourth and one-third of the total number of images contain some reference to the animal, his body, actions, or habits and instincts. This represents a drop in the importance of this subject of considerably more than one-half compared to the importance of the human being. Approximately one-eighth of the total number of vehicles and tenors pertain to animals.

What is most interesting in regard to this subject is the extraordinary number of vehicles as compared to tenors. Only about one out of fifteen of the references to animals occurs in the tenor. Thus, the main purpose of animal references is animism, the giving of animate life to some inanimate aspect of nature—or else, though to a lesser degree, the depersonification of man through association of his body, thoughts, emotions, or actions with those of the animal. In contrast with the human being, who is important both as a means of association and as a subject for association, the animal is important primarily as a means of association.

The principal subdivisions under the animal follow much the same pattern as those under man, that is, parts of the body, action, and sounds, except that the animal species form the largest of the subdivisions. One-third of the tenors and vehicles which refer to this category belong to the latter group: “La fille battait des mains, dansant autour du jeune homme comme un taon doré autour du boeuf chargé” (p. 183); one-fourth to parts of his body: “la gueule béante du bois” (p. 44); “le pelage des terres et les membres nus de la mer” (p. 177); about one-sixth to his actions: “Il ne songea plus qu'à cette fatigue gitée autour de ses reins et qui mordait” (p. 42); and about one-eighth to the sounds he makes: “La mer perfide hululait doucement” (p. 13). Thus, animal images, like human images, add a physical and a dynamic quality to the inanimate, often in terms of sound.

Of the individual species of the animal world, those most commonly used pertain to animals and insects. They form over half of the total number of tenors and vehicles referring to this category in La Naissance de l'Odyssée. Wings are especially important in the formation of images, because of their movement. It is a movement which man cannot perform, but which represents well the function of the gods in this book, who are both a threat and a protection to the characters. An example in which wings symbolize protection occurs at a moment when Ulysses sees a man walking out of an inn where he has found temporary haven during his journey home: “Les ailes bleues du soir battaient autour de lui” (p. 45). Antinous' death, on the other hand, is accompanied by an image in which wings imply a threat: “De grandes ailes de fer sifflaient au bord de ses oreilles. Cette fois, c'était bien le coup assené par les dieux” (p. 209).

Giono's love of reptiles has often been mentioned. He does not use them to a large extent for his imagery in La Naissance de l'Odyssée, however. Probably not more than one-twentieth of the tenors and vehicles concerning animals pertain to serpents. Most of those which do occur serve to describe the movements of a path or road: “Le chemin qu'il suit se tord et revient sur lui-même comme un serpent qui se more la queue” (p. 75).

In the case of associations of the human being with the animal, the purpose is sometimes pejorative: “museaux attifés” (p. 57), referring to women, or “toi qui pues comme un marsouin crevé” (p. 151). More often its purpose is the physical manifestation of an emotional or mental state: “L'inquiétude nichait dans mon cœur” (p. 159); “Il se pelotonnait dans sa paisible ivresse comme une larve dans son cocon” (p. 196).

Giono does not hesitate to use animals for the evocation of something unpleasant. This is evident from some of the preceding examples, as well as from the following one, where it is speaking of debris floating on water: “Un courant, étendu sur la mer comme une grande aragne huileuse, les fouaillait, les montait à petits coups de pattes sur le dos de l'eau libre” (p. 211).

In addition to the statistics already given on animals and humans, there are a number of images—perhaps one-fourteenth of all the vehicles—in which it is not clear whether it is the animal or the human which is intended. This is particularly true in regard to parts of the body, such as unidentified references to “chair,” “sang,” “peau,” “tête,” “ossements,” “plaies,” though it also occurs in regard to certain actions, such as “marcher” or “fuir.” These two examples are typical of this ambiguity: “la chair exsangue de la terre” (p. 13); “une brume brillante tremblait sous les flèches du soleil” (p. 85). These have, of necessity, been omitted from the tabulations.

PLANT LIFE

Some reference to plant life occurs in approximately the same total number of images as animal life, and the aggregate number of tenors and vehicles is only a few less. In quantity it is therefore essentially of equal importance,⁵ but it does not play the same role, since the vehicle predominates over the tenor with a ratio of only five to three.

Trees are the most prominent of the individual types of plant life which Giono uses, and he compares nearly three-fifths of these trees with something else, often with the human being. Thus, the tree is one of the subjects which he repeatedly personifies: “La futaie des chênes réglait un vieux compte avec le vent du large” (p. 74); and sometimes animates: “Le saule se gonfle comme un pigeon” (p. 231). The personification of trees often involves sound. In one-eighth of the references to trees, they are speaking: “Enfin, la grosse voix des chênes murmura en haut de la courbe. Une phrase courut d'arbre en arbre” (p. 264). Although the use of the whole tree as a means of comparison is less frequent than its use as the thing compared, it does occur. Critics have already mentioned the association of Panturle with a tree at the end of Regain. The same image also appears in La Naissance de l'Odyssée, in speaking of Ulysses: “scintillant comme un bouleau” (p. 164); “Pénélope, parmi les dieux j'étais sans force, comme un arbre” (p. 217); “Ainsi, Ulysse fut comme un amandier fleuri au milieu des labours, et il couvrait la terre noire de pétales légers et odorants” (p. 238).

More frequently than a comparison of the tree as a whole with the body as a whole, the comparison is of parts of the tree or plant with parts of the body. “Il exhibait des pieds tors et noirs comme des ceps de vigne” (p. 54); “Le coeur indocile d'Ulysse ébranla toute sa ramure de sang” (p. 85). The purpose here is to emphasize a human quality or appearance by association with some aspect of nature which has the same quality or appearance.

Fruits and flowers are the kinds of plants which Giono most often uses as a means of comparison. One-fifth of the references to them are in the vehicle. Their usual purpose is to add a connotation of something delicate and fresh, or of something sensual, as in the following two examples: “Avec ses mains pâles et lisses comme des fleurs” (p. 176); “L'ombre était fraîche, parfumée, épaisse comme la pulpe d'un fruit” (p. 16). Condiments occasionally imply the ability to arouse the senses: “Ces rouges de lèvres, ces antimoines, c'est un piment, un poivre qui éveille la soif de l'amour même chez les abreuvés qui ont bu leur content” (p. 58).

ELEMENTS OF NATURE

The fourth of the major categories is the elements of nature. These include water, land, and air. Taken as a whole, they constitute a larger category than either of the two preceding ones. Katherine Allen Clarke has already noted (p. 478) Giono's relating of all forms of life to water. Here are some examples, each involving just one aspect of water, foam. He especially likes to attribute the latter to the plant world: “le feuillage écumant des pins” (p. 207), but will also use it to liquefy the animal world: “Comme d'un récif s'envolent les flocons d'écume, le vol des colombes giclait autour de son toit” (p. 43), and the human world: “les blanches lavandières, vivante écume au bord du ruisseau” (p. 160).

A little over one-sixth of the total number of images in La Naissance de l'Odyssée are water images, and one-seventh of the total number of tenors and vehicles fall within this group. There is less disparity between these two statistics here as compared with preceding categories because Giono often develops an image involving water by means of several different terms of comparison. A good example is the following paragraph, which, in its entirety, is a single association of land with sea: “Le rideau flexible des joncs s'ouvrit sur une étroite plaine qui mimait la chair liquide de la mer. Des vagues de froment brisaient contre le flanc rugueux de la montagne où l'écume des oliviers grésillait; dans ces calanques ombrées et profondes dormait le flot étale des prés. Une bastidette à forme de nef était à l'ancre sur un champ de trèfles. Ainsi, sous le visage de la terre, Ulysse trouvait toujours les traits aimés de la mer” (pp. 37-38).

The sea is present in a little more than one-fourth of the tenors and vehicles in water imagery. Although the vehicles outnumber the tenors in the total number of tenors and vehicles referring to water, the reverse occurs with sea imagery. Three times out of four Giono compares the sea with something else. Personification: “des grands bras du courant” (p. 212), and animism: “les écailles cliquetantes des vagues” (p. 66) are, of course, important. He often associates it with land: “Dans une vallée onduleuse, la tartane désemparée se tordait” (p. 66). And he even more often associates it with the sky: “Sur l'horizon abaissé, il vit palpiter une bande de ciel liquide: la haletante mer” (p. 119). He also reverses the relationship: “Le ciel se troubla, comme un golfe où se déverse soudain un fleuve engraissé d'orages montagnards” (p. 213).

The high percentage of water imagery may be due in part to the subject of the book, the return of Ulysses. It is also due partly, however, to Giono's fascination with the sea, which other critics have observed.⁶ It appears in other works as well, though not as frequently. The characteristic of water imagery which is probably most noteworthy is the importance of verbs, or verbal adjectives, which account for over one-fifth of the vehicles. This is one of the primary methods Giono uses to create dynamism. It also gives substance to that which is without substance, such as sound, smell, and light: “la voix clapoteuse de deux Crétois” (p. 64); “L'odeur poivrée du foin ruisselait par les lucarnes du grenier” (p. 48); “Un jet de soleil éclaboussa les collines et la forêt” (p. 252). One of its principal purposes, however, is to make concrete a human emotion or mental state: “De ses lèvres, comme d'une source sulfureuse, coulait un rêve terrible” (p. 15); “Il écoutait suinter son inquiétude” (p. 145). “Couler” is one of the verbs which appears most frequently with Giono, and “suinter” is also common.

Water imagery sometimes becomes more complex, and may involve two relationships. For example, the following image liquefies a human state, fatigue, while at the same time it personifies water: “De ses mains ballantes des gouttes pleuraient comme la force liquéfiée de sa fatigue” (p. 96). Although the last image is perhaps more intricate, largely because of the addition of an abstraction made concrete, the following one creates the same two associations in a denser manner: “Ils parlaient plus vite que la pluie” (p. 114). This is due partly to the fact that a metaphor forms both associations, and partly to the fact that both involve the same quality, sound, intensified by the alliteration of “pl,” imitative of the sound of rain. It is more dependent upon sudden sensory appeal than the preceding one. It is also an illustration of Giono's manner of combining sound with water, which occurs commonly.

In addition to water, a number of images deal with boats and ports. In two-thirds of these, the boats and ports are tenors. An example has appeared under animals of the relating of ships to birds. He also associates ships and ports with women: “les ports aux bras de femmes” (p. 69), as well as women with ships: “Il suivait l'énivrant sillage de la nef Pénélope” (p. 179).

Another liquid commonly used is oil. This is especially because of its sensuous characteristics, as in the example: “Une huile de bonheur coulait de ses yeux” (p. 22) and also: “des doigts huilés d'amour” (p. 131). Again, Giono does not hesitate to compare oils with something unpleasant: “Les calons oubliés dans les greniers et qui pleurent leur purulence d'or” (p. 146). And again, the alliteration of the liquid consonants “l” and “r” intensifies the image.

Air imagery (which includes the sky and weather) and earth imagery (which includes roads, rocks, and minerals) each represent approximately one-eighth of the total number of images and one-fourteenth of the total number of tenors and vehicles, with air slightly favored. This is an appreciable drop from water imagery. Both types of subjects also appear predominantly in the tenor, with a ratio of nine to four for air and eight to three for earth. Both are personified or animated to a very high degree.

The colors of the sky serve to form many associations: “Matin! Roses entassées sur le bord du ciel” (p. 93). More important than color, however, is movement: “L'aube lançait dans le ciel des poignées d'alouettes” (p. 93); “Les pieds gris et roux du soir couraient sur les tuiles en éveillant les pigeons” (p. 99). As in the preceding image, personification or animism results from the comparison with the body: “la chair noire de la nuit” (p. 66); “la langue rêche du jour” (p. 82), as well as with habits: “Le soleil seul les peignait” (p. 57).

The personification or animism of the earth is also due to a large extent to the body: “le beau corps de la terre nu et luisant au sortir de l'orage” (p. 256). Occasionally, the relationship appears in reverse: “L'ânier tendit vers l'interrupteur sa figure plissée et nue comme une vieille colline” (p. 63). Rocks and bones also occur as tenors and vehicles, respectively (pp. 13, 86, 108, 151, 207), and then as vehicles and tenors: “Il se trouva debout devant le rocheux Antinous” (p. 199); “ce menton comme un roc léché par les sources” (p. 131). The association is not always with the body. It may be with sound: “La colline sauvage grondait au soleil” (p. 83); or with action: “La montagne semblait retenir son souffle pour mieux épier l'homme perdu” (p. 85).

FORCES OF NATURE

The forces of nature, that is, wind and fire, form a very small category, appearing in only one-sixteenth of the total number of tenors and vehicles. Again, the tenors predominate over the vehicles with a ratio of five to three. And again, personification and animism are the most important of the effects. Examples involving wind are: “la lèche glacée du vent” (p. 78); “Un petit vent campagnard, de ceux qui vont, un brin de sauge aux dents, écarta soudain les feuillages” (p. 89). The next two pertain to fire: “le brasier soupirant” (p. 51); “Il vit bondir dans la nuit des chevrettes rouges de feu” (p. 48).

Fire sometimes also serves as a means of association, especially to emphasize sound: “Le choeur des paysannes se mit à grésiller comme feu de sarment” (p. 58); or movement: “L'eau jaillit en flammèches lourdes et blanches” (p. 205). Both wind and fire occasionally serve to concretize the abstract: “Un souci, un soupir de vent qui ne courberait pas une avoine, le déchirent d'étrange mal” (p. 143); “Il n'avait pu rester couché avec la bouillante nouvelle qui tressautait en lui comme lait sur le feu” (p. 225).

THE GODS

The gods are significant only for La Naissance de l'Odyssée. They occur in one-sixteenth of the total number of images, and account for one-thirteenth of the total number of tenors and vehicles, with a ratio of three to one in favor of the tenor. The principal function of this category is to make the gods physical by attributing to them human or animal bodies or actions. In the following passage, for example, a verb which makes known the effect of the action brings about the incarnation, while the substantive, the appearance, the body of the god remains vague: “Dans l'intervalle qui sépare les hommes, ils marchent, se coulent sous les manteaux, se cramponnent aux chars, se glissent même entre les lèvres qui s'approchent pour un baiser et, en fin de compte, flottent autour de nous comme de molles algues invisibles. Habiles à suivre la sinueuse trace des hommes, ils ne se manifestent que par hasard quand on les rencontre fatalement; ce ne sont que heurts légers entre eux et nous, n'entendons un peu mieux le bruit de leurs ailes qu'après la mort du jour” (p. 73).

Ulysses is here speaking to the travelers who have gathered at an inn. Unrecognized, he begins to invent and relate to them his adventures. The following day, however, he realizes that he has used the gods in support of his lies, and his fear of their vengeance is nourished by the same imagination which has created his stories. Traveling through the woods, he thinks he hears a voice: “Etait-ce la voix de ce dieu ironique et joueur dont il percevait maintenant les effluves et, qui, plus véloce que la flèche, courait au-delà de la terre en tenant l'espérance embrassée?” (p. 87).

As the reputation of his adventures grows, so does his terror. The gods invade his sleep, still retaining human or animal bodies and actions: “Le museau fouinard de Pan dépassait les feuillages” (p. 116). Ulysses now believes that it is his reputation, which he can never fulfill, which is their vengeance. But his reputation has also terrified both Penelope and Antinous. The latter, accidentally struck on the chin by Ulysses, rushes off to escape him—only to fall into the sea during a landslide and be drowned. The moment preceding this event, thinking he has outdistanced Ulysses and is safe, Antinous defies the gods by declaring himself stronger than they. Then, as he falls: “De grandes ailes de fer sifflaient au bord de ses oreilles. Cette fois, c'était bien le coup assené par les dieux” (p. 209). Even the village people consider this natural death to be the effect of the gods. In viewing the landslide, they imagine that: “Un dieu a aidé Ulysse: là-bas est l'empreinte de son pied” (p. 230).

Meanwhile, as Penelope reveals to Ulysses her jealousy over his amorous adventures, he begins to realize the truth: “Ainsi donc, ce mensonge … Il lui parut qu'il connaissait maintenant le nom de celui qui avait lutté à ses côtés” (p. 217). “Il comprenait la beauté de son mensonge, né de sa cervelle, tout armé, pareil à Pallas née de Zeus!” (p. 255).

This personification and animism of the gods is probably the most successful instance of Giono's incorporation of imagery into the purposes of his story. By giving to them known earthly qualities, he brings to life what otherwise would remain dead symbols. At the same time, he leaves them partially vague, thus retaining the effect of a mystery. The statement of Ulysses just quoted also points out the real power of the gods, which is the power of the mythical image upon the mind of the individual or group, and the degree to which this can influence human action.⁷

A myth is like the gods in that it can influence individual or group psychology, as we have just seen. Poetic awe is similar to religious awe and can have the same effect upon people. And that which causes awe can also threaten or protect, as revealed here through bird imagery.

The greater importance of imagery to this book than to the others is thus evident, and it is not surprising that its use is more varied. The variety is apparent not only in the subject matter—the gods do not appear in the other novels—but also in the confused intermingling of tenors and vehicles. All of this portrays Ulysses' view of the world as not unlike that which we attribute to children and primitives. A child-like view of the world is also a poetic view. The poetic vision expressed in this book is as much a part of Giono himself as it is of Ulysses, and it is revealed largely through the formation of his images.⁸

Notes

1. “Natur und Mensch in Gionos Sprache,” Festschrift für Ernst Tappolet (Basel: Benno Schwabe, 1935), pp. 71-77; Style in the French Novel (London: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1957), pp. 210-31. See also W. D. Redfern, The Private World of Jean Giono (Oxford: Blackwell, 1967), esp. Chap. VII. Jacques Pugnet (Jean Giono [Paris: Editions Universitaires, 1955] pp. 62-64), Katherine Clarke (“Pour saluer Melville; Giono's Prison Book,” FR, XXV, 5 [1962], 478-83) also discuss some aspects of Giono's imagery.

2. The statistics used in this analysis appear in the chart. Determination as to what constitutes an image sometimes requires an arbitrary decision, so that my total count may vary from that of another critic. However, such variations should not alter the most notable characteristics of the imagery. I have considered as a separate image each metaphor or simile which produces a different association. When a series of metaphors and similes continue to develop the same association, only one image is counted. This also sometimes requires an arbitrary decision, and is another reason why my total count may differ from that of another critic. It also results in a considerably larger number of tenors and vehicles than of images and accounts for the disparity which sometimes appears between the percentage of images in which a given subject may appear and the percentage of tenors and vehicles referring to it. The emphasis which I place on the tenor and vehicle is intended only to clarify my statistics. It is to be remembered that my objective is to show what items of subject matter are used in the images, and not to make a strict classification by tenor or vehicle. I have therefore made my divisions and subdivisions according to the items, which often appear in one case as tenor and in another as vehicle, and I have given examples of their use in both positions.

3. Redfern also considers (p. 13) myth-making to be the subject of the novel: “The main theme is Ulysses' construction of an imaginary world to serve as a buffer-state against the threatened incursion of hostile gods and men. A myth acts as protection against other (possible) myths.”

4. Ullmann defines (p. 214) the tenor as “the object or idea we are talking about,” and the vehicle as “the term to which the tenor is likened.”

5. These statistics are somewhat misleading, since undoubtedly some of the imagery in which the distinction between humans and animals is not clear should apply to the animal. This would produce a decided gap between the importance of the animals and plants which does not appear here.

6. Clarke, p. 478. Claudine Chonez (Giono par lui-même [Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1956], p. 42), on the other hand, claims that he detests the sea. This apparent ambiguity is resolved by a letter from Giono to Maxwell Smith (Jean Giono [New York: Twayne, 1966], p. 109): “I detest only the Mediterranean, I love the ocean.”

7. Redfern also states (p. 18): “This book dwells on man's mythopoeic faculties, and suggests that the gods were man's first invention.”

8. According to Maxwell Smith (p. 48), this observation is supported by Lucien Jacques, who claims that “the character of Ulysses is really a somewhat unflattering portrait of Giono himself.”