Emmanuel Bove: Mes amis (1924)

This is the cult writer Emmanuel Bove's first novel, encouraged by Colette. Mes amis is something of an ironic title, as the main character, the first person narrator Victor Bâton, who lives on a small pension following World War I, has no friends. He's not smelly or mad or anything, although he lives in a crappy appartment block whose architect didn't bother to engrave his name, where there's no bathroom, just a communal sink with a curtain where people wash themselves.

Victor is a very aware person, no doubt too aware, too sensitive, and occasional sex sessions with the barmaid Lucie Dunois, from the local café, don't quite fulfill him. But then his short attempt to find a friend in Henri Billard doesn't please him either: it seems to be more Billard's live-in girlfriend who's the problem rather than Billard himself. The fifty francs that Victor's lent the obviously richer Henri, even though Victor only gets three hundred every three months? Forget it, it's not worth thinking about.

We could continue with Neveu, the poverty-stricken sailor who wants to kill himself along with Henri, but Henri won't find friendship in a suicide pact, in fact he won't find a friend. It's a cruel life.

My other posts on Emmanuel Bove:
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Montparnasse Cemetery / Cimetière du Montparnasse
Emmanuel Bove: Le Piège (1945)
Emmanuel Bove: Cœurs et visages

Christophe Tison: Il m'aimait (2004)

This should be a deeply shocking book, and indeed it is, as it's about homosexual abuse, pedophilia, although it's not condemnatory, not revelatory. That, perhaps, is one of the most disturbing things about this part autobiography. Or not: the past is a different country.

Separated, a mother is happy to leave a man with her child – the cute, (effeminate-looking?) kid on the cover, who could be, Tison muses, eleven, twelve, maybe older? Leaves him to be sexually abused frequently. Unsurprisingly, Tison grows up sexually mature beyond his years, and goes on to enjoy heterosexual relations.

But this isn't, say, Flavie Flament and David Hamilton: no, Christophe Tison isn't revealing the name of his sexual abuser: after all, when kids of his age were grooving on, for example, the likes of Claude François, he had been introduced to the worlds of Frank Zappa, Bob Dylan, David Bowie.

A disturbing book indeed, particularly as it neither asks nor answers any questions.

Christian Gailly: Dernier Amour (2004)

Christian Gailly's Dernier Amour (2004) isn't really even about what it announces in its title – a last love. Rather, it's a combination of narratives – the narrator's, words spoken by the characters, thoughts of Paul the protagonist, all melded into one short novel.

What's actually happening comes in fits and starts, and the narrative itself is like that: generally short sentences, frequently of only one or two words, which often interrupt themselves, tangle around each other, as if in suspension, waiting for an answer, or waiting for nothing.

And Paul is waiting for nothing, or rather nothingness, as his life seems extended by days, his death a long wait. Meanwhile he lives on, going to Zurich to see the first performance of his music which is only greetd by hoots of derision. And he goes back to Paris, from there to the north coast where he'll die, where his wife has, following his wishes, left him to die.

But yet there's a revival of sorts, in which Paul picks up his wife's bathrobe on the beach, although it isn't her bathrobe, it's an American's, who comes to pick it up. And who returns to the skeletal Paul and takes him for a ride in her car. A Mercedes, of course.

My Christian Gailly posts:
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Christian Gailly: Un soir au club
Christian Gailly: Lily et Braine
Christian Gailly: La Roue et autres nouvelles
Christian Gailly: Dernier amour
Christian Gailly: Nuage Rouge | Red Haze
Christian Gailly: L'Incident
Christian Gailly: Les Oubliés

Marie NDiaye: Hilda (1999)

Some people are vulnerable in Marie NDiaye's universe, and others take advantage of this vulnerability: the strong, the powerful, the arrogant, the rich, lording it over the weak, the dispossessed, the less rich. It's dog eat dog, depending on what kind of a dog you are. And it's not merely (or even?) a question of intelligence, just of planning the right way to get what you want, finding the right words to say, at the right time. Humans are birds of prey, awaiting their time to pounce, and then pile on the pressure until there's no more fight in the victim. Here, I found in some respects an odd kind of reversal of the much later Slimani's Une Chanson Douce, and a woman totally dominating a man, emasculinating him, depriving him of his wife, reducing his life to almost nothing. Such is how some rule the lives of others. As Franck grows weaker, Mme Lemarchand profits from this fact. There are also subdued lesbian undertones.

Madame Lemarchand wants to set Hilda, the wife of manual worker Franck Meyer, on as a house help, and is willing to pay over the odds for the service. This means that Franck will have to find guardians for their own children, which is done. Hilda herself has no word in the play: this is in effect essentially a dialogue between Mme Lemarchand and Franck, a kind of card game in which Mme Lemarchand always has the upper hand, her trump cards being her financial aces, which always win over Franck's duff cards. He is powerless as Mme Lemarchand washes the putative dirt from Hilda, gives her more superior clothes, makes Hilda work more and more hours until Franck can see her no more, until Mme Lemarchand takes over her life and leaves the work injured Franck to his own devices, to his sister-in-law Corinne, who is the third (very brief) voice in this quietly devastating play.

My other posts on Marie NDiaye:
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Marie NDiaye: La Sorcière
Marie NDiaye: Rosie Carpe
Marie NDiaye: Autoportrait en vert
Marie NDiaye: Ladivine
Marie NDiaye: Trois femmes puissantes
Marie NDiaye: La Femme changée en bûche
Marie NDiaye: Papa doit manger
Marie NDiaye: En famille
Marie NDiaye: Un temps de saison
Marie NDiaye: Mon cœur à l'étroit
Marie NDiaye: Les Grandes Personnes
Marie NDiaye: Quant au riche avenir
Marie NDiaye: Tous mes amis

Joël Dicker: Le Livre des Baltimore (2015)

I just looked at the popular French website babelio.com for comments on Joël Dicker's Le Livre des Baltimore (2015), read a few of the amateur reviews (514) to this follow-up to his hugely successful La Verite sur l'affaire Harry Québert (2012, with 1571 reviews) and breathed a silent sigh. I enjoyed Harry Québert to some extent, although the several hundred pages were a bit daunting, but the 600-page Le Livre des Baltimore went back to the boîte à lire only half-read: enough is enough, or too much. Harry Québert made it to the first selection of the Goncourt novel, garnered the Prix Goncourt des lycéens as well as the Grand Prix de l'académie française 2012, and yet I ask myself why. Both of these books, and it appears the latest Dicker, La Disparition de Stéphanie Mayer, are not only set in the US, not only about a mystery with many twists and turns, not only bear the markings of a young adult novel, but are also so obviously made to be filmed, causing Frédéric Beigbeder to remark that Dicker wrote the same book three times: make as much money as possible seems to be the ruling instinct with the Swiss Dicker. And yet to me 'real' novels are written from the intellect, not with the bank account in mind. OK, all writers have to survive and make some compromises, but we're not talking about that here. I got bored with Le Livre des Baltimore halfway through, read Marie NDiaye's very short play Hilda (1999) in a very brief time, ditched Dicker permanently, and was struck by the effect Hilda was having on me: my conclusion is that Marie NDiaye is a brilliant writer, Joël Dicker merely brilliant at writing best sellers. The difference between the two is enormous. (Oh, by the way, Babelio doesn't give Hilda a single review, although Les Éditions du minuit contains several professional reviews of it. There must be a moral in there somewhere.)

My other post on Joël Dicker:
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Joël Dicker: La Vérité sur l'Affaire Harry Kleber

Le Cimetière parisien d'Ivry, Val-de-Marne (94): #7: Roger Stéphane

Roger Stéphane (né Roger Worms) (1919–94) was a writer and journalist, a member of the Resistance, and a co-founder of L'Observateur. He was an admirer of the work of Stendhal, Proust and T. E. Lawrence and a friend of Georges Simenon. He was one of the first campaigners for gay rights. He wrote several biographies on, for instance, Simenon, Lawrence and Cocteau, and, ill and in poverty, killed himself.

Le Cimetière parisien d'Ivry, Val-de-Marne (94): #6: Missak Manouchiank

Missak Manouchian (1906–44) was an Armenian poet and journalist who moved to France in 1925. As a member of the French Resistance, he was shot in 1944.

Le Cimetière parisien d'Ivry, Val-de-Marne (94): #5:Jules Boucher

Jules Boucher (1903 – 1955) was a writer, occultist, alchemist and free-mason. His works include La Symbolique maçonnique (1948) and Manuel de magie pratique (1941).

Le Cimetière parisien d'Ivry, Val-de-Marne (94): #4: Abdel Hafed Benotman

'Abdel Hafed BENOTMAN

1960 – [2015]

'Ça valait pas la peine

mais ça valait le coup !

Enfin libérable...'

Abdel Hafed Benotman was of Algerian descent and wrote detective novels, short stories, poems, songs, plays and film scenarios. He was guilty of many thefts and bank robberies and spent several occasions behind bars. He was born in France and spent his childhood in the Latin Quarter. Later, he set up theatre workshops for various groups of people: psychotic children, elderly people, delinquants, and the handicapped. Back in prison in 1990, his collection of short stories, Les Forcenés, was published in 1993. 

Le Cimetière parisien d'Ivry, Val-de-Marne (94): #3: Arthur Adamov

First recognized along with the likes of Samuel Beckett and Eugene Ionesco as a defining figure at the forefront of the theatre of the absurd, French playwright Adam Adamov had a fairly prolific career, writing twenty plays between 1947 and his death in 1970. Now though he has fallen into obscurity. John J. McMann provides a study of Adamov's work which traces the playwright's artistic development and explores his role in defining the avant-garde and political theaters of France.

Adam Adamov doesn't get much of a grave here, which is absurd, but then like Alfred Jarry's grave is pretty much to be expected. Adamov wrote about twenty plays, but is now almost forgotten: in 1962 Martin Esslin's Theatre of the Absurd lists ten authors in huge letters on the cover of the Pelican version, and Adamov is one of them. But Esslin accepting the OBE from her royal etc, now that really is absurd...

Le Cimetière parisien d'Ivry, Val-de-Marne (94): #2: Artur London

'Artur LONDON

GERARD

1915 . 1986 

-------

Lise RICOL

LONDON

1916 . 2012

-------'

The memorial on the grave to the brave work of Lise for the workers and the oppressed, with a translation in Catalan.

As a couple, man and wife published L'Aveu (lit. 'The Confession') in 1968, which was an autobiographical account of London's experience of the Prague trials. Costa-Gavras turned the book into a film starring Yves Montand and Simone Signoret.

Le Cimetière parisien d'Ivry, Val-de-Marne (94): #1: Georges Jamati

Finding the grave of Georges Jamati (1894–1954) caused me to stumble, break my glasses (which needed renewing anyway), and gave me several large scratches and bruises. No idea why, as it certainly hadn't been raining, I've been in many cemeteries which are very frightening to negotiate but this one isn't, so it's just the way things go. Oh yes, Jemati. The cemetery guide describes him as a playwright and a writer of non-fiction, although the only play I can definitely pin him down to is Le Complot (lit. 'The Plot') of 1934. I'm obviously open to correction, but he seems more preoccupied with theatre theory, such as his Théâtre et vie intérieure or Théâtre et collectivité (1954).

Pierre-Jean de Béranger in the 3rd arrondissement, Paris (75)

I wrote about the grave of Pierre-Jean de Béranger (1780-1857), which he shares with Jacques-Antoine Manuel, some years ago when visiting the more famous spots in Père-Lachaise. This monument is in the 3rd arrondissement in the Square du Temple. The statue was made in 1953 by Henri Lagriffoul (1907–81).

Alphonse Daudet in the 8th arrondissement, Paris (75)

Alphonse Daudet (1840–97) by René de Saint-Marceaux (1845–1915) in Le Jardin des ambassadeurs. He needs no description here, as his name appears a number of times in this blog, particularly in relation to Provence.

Jean Moulin in the 8th arrondissement, Paris (75)

'À

JEAN

MOULIN

1899–1945'

The monument to Jean Moulin (1899–1943) in Les Jardins des Champs Elysées was sculpted by the Jewish sculptor Georges Janclos (1933–97) in 1984. The five bronze statues represent tears, the whisper of the Resistance, silent imprisonment, disappearance and the Resistance, although not in the order shown.

More from Le Cimetière Père-Lachaise, Paris (75): #21: Évariste Parny

Évariste de Parny (1753–1814) was a poet born in La Réunion. His name was known by his Poésies érotiques (1778), his poetry was hugely popular at the beginning of the nineteenth century, and in 1813 Chateaubriand said that he still remembered some of his works by heart.

More from Le Cimetière Père-Lachaise, Paris (75): #20: Vivant Denon

Vivant Denon (1747–1825) was an engraver and a writer as well as a French diplomat and administrator. He became the general director of museums, and as such was particularly involved with the Louvre. Study bored him, although observation entertained him. The sculpture is by Pierre Cartellier.

More from Le Cimetière Père-Lachaise, Paris (75): #19: Jacques Lelille

Jaques Delille (1768–1839) was a poet and translator (mainly from Latin and English). The most famous of his own work is Jardins (1782).

More from Le Cimetière Père-Lachaise, Paris (75): #18: Georges Cuvier

Georges Cuvier (1769–1832) was an anatomist, indeed the founder of comparative anatomy, and an ethnologist. Some of his findings led to racist conclusions, as of course could have been expected at the unenlightened time when he was writing.

More from Le Cimetière Père-Lachaise, Paris (75): #17: Philoxène Boyer

Philoxène Boyer (1824–67) was a Hellenist. During his studentship at the Sorbonne he met Charles Baudelaire, who introduced him to the Parnassian poets, including Théodore de Banville, with whom he wrote some books. He lived for literature, at the expense of his personal hygiene. A brilliant mind, he had many famous writer friends although now he is all but forgotten.

More from Le Cimetière Père-Lachaise, Paris (75): #16: Jean Bacon

'Jean BACON

Journaliste

Écrivain

9 décembre 1914

29 février 2012'

Jean Bacon was a journalist for France with the BBC for ten years and an occasional writers of plays. His most important publication, after a great deal of research work, was Les Seigneurs de la guerre in 1981, was about the commerce and the use of weapons.

More from Le Cimetière Père-Lachaise, Paris (75): #15: Marie-Céleste Bache

Rose-Céleste Bache (1774–1843) (or Céleste Vien after the painter Jjoseph-Marie Vien she married) learned Greek and Latin, of which she published several translations. During her feminist period, she published Journal des dames et des modes.

Max Jacob in the 18th arrondissement

'LE POÊTE

MAX JACOB

1876 – 1944

A HABITÉ CETTE MAISON

DE 1907 – 1911'

7 Rue Ravignan.

Maurice Utrillo and Suzanne Valadon in the 18th arrondissement

Maurice Utrillo (1883–1955) was the son of Suzanne Valadon, an acrobat and model encouraged, for instance, by Degas, Toulouse-Lautrec and Renoir to develop a powerful expressionist painting talent. Unusually, Utrillo was a painter of Montmartre who was born there. La Maison Rose was immortalised by a number of painters of the time. Utrllo is buried in Le Cimetière Saint-Vincent, Montmartre, and Suzanne Valadon in the Cimetière parisien de Saint-Ouen, both graves of whom are on this blog.

Rue des saules.

Le Moulin de la Galette in the 18th arrondissement

Le Moulin de la Galette at the corner of rue Lepic and rue Girardon, Montmartre, formerly a noted guinguette. The mill is not accessible to the public, although the front is a restaurant.