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I would like to say a few words about the reasons why
“European literature should or should not still
be considered as a family matter ”
We do not necessarily have to answer this question by
yes or no. At least not so quickly. And yet you probably
guess that I got my opinion on what the answer is. But
you probably do not guess that my opinion will rather
be “yes” than "no". “Yes” european literature
has been telling us the story of a continent , with
its values, beliefs, delusions, for nearly a thousand
years (if we do not go back to the Roman empire). Yes
I do believe that the Europeans should keep on their
track because it is leading us somewhere. And as a french
writer, that somewhere is very definitely where I want
to go .
First of all, some of you may think that in a world
so keen to go global, being proud of remaining a local
culture as the European culture is, in many respects,
is a shame, and a proof of dire conservatism.
I hope you wont mind if I try to prove the exact opposite
.
I have to explain what I mean by family matter. Some
of you again will probably think that trying to define
a typical family profile to which the European literatures
should belong implies that our writers would have in
common an attitude of rejection towards the rest of
the world. In other words, some people consider that
if you know and remember where you belong, if you feel
comfortable with your culture of origin, you tend to
despise other cultures. I think, once again, one could
stand the exact opposite ground.
An example, that is perhaps of interest here, is education.
Some people believe for instance that a child being
raised in a family that shares strong values and rules,
that has a deep feeling of his identity and who is proud
of it, would feel a lesser curiosity, if not a definite
hostility, towards other kids of other neighborhoods.
But thecontrary is easy to observe. If a child lacks
the basic attention and care, if he lacks a minimum
number of references if he does not belong to any place,
to any social group, to any stable family he often starts
to become aggressive and restless because he tries to
build up an originality, a personality, a self portrait
without really knowing what he is like. This is important,
this is the real question, this is what really matters.
What are we like? How do we draw our own portrait ?
The answer is that, to become someone of our own we
must start by patterning our beliefs, our portrait by
comparison after someone else’s.
I would like to stress this out : education has a synonym,
which is definition and definition leads to culture.
To educate is to give a child the ability to find a
definition of himself or herself, a definition who makes
him able to speak his own language. And that definition
relies for the most part on the way a child interprets
the story of his life. Itdepends on the way he compares
the story of his life to his parents’ story. And to
other related stories , as well, like for instance the
saga of the legendary heroes of his nation. That is
where and how literature will play its true part in
one’s definition.Some european countries like Hungary
or former Tchecoslovakia show us, more than others,
the constant link that exists between poetry and patriotism.
And it is easy to figure out that the emotional load
contained in the stories and the figures we are raised
with will determine the quality of the portrait we draw
of ourselves through education and culture. We could
easily compare the education of a child to the way the
Global Positioning System is working. What a kid needs
to find his definition is exactly what a traveller needs
to find his way in the desert. I mean a set of satellites
overhead which tell him where he is and where he goes.
Satellites that have a permanent position, a clear,
loud, meaningful signal coming from a reasonable distance.
In the case of a kid, you may give these satellites
any name you want : parents, grand parents, teachers.
In the case of a people, of a culture, of a bunch of
nations like the european nations , the satellites bare
the names of the top writers and poets who, among others,
but probably more than anyone, are writing the legend
of the continent. Throughout the ages they have knitted
a meaningful network of interpretations. They have built
a family spirit around the same myths and tales and
historical facts such as, for instance, and for what
regards Europe , the Vikings invasion, the submission
of nations by the Turkish, the fight between catholic
and protestants, and of course, and overall, the perception
of christianity.
Just think of the influence the roman period had on
the Italian Renaissance, think of the way the Italian
poets and philosophers have influenced french writers
like Montaigne or La Bruyère. Think how much
the romanticism in our french literature has been influenced
by England and Germany . Think of how much Italy has
inspired Molière’s early plays. Think of Goethe’s
character, Young Werther, who has been a model and a
great favourite everywhere in Europe. Think of Stendhal
in Parma, Tourgueniev in France, Liszt in Central Europe,
think of the influence of Oscar Wilde on the european
literature, think of Thomas Mann in Venice. Think of
Balzac who has been travelling through Poland and Russia
where he has been welcomed as a real star in his time.
Same for Alexandre Dumas, who has published an interesting
voyage en Russie.
This enumeration illustrates that all the fellow artists
and especially the writers in old Europe have shared
for long the certitude of being a family . Actually
much before the times where their countries signed treaties
to regulate coal and iron trade.
One would probably object that the European family has
been unable to preserve the peace on its continent in
spite of its great number of remarkable writers. One
would object as well that even when you know how to
give your children or your people a definition of themselves
through literature, you do not necessarily avoid tragedies
and wars. That is right. But a tragedy and a war may
still have a meaning. Look all the good literature that
has been written out of tragedies and wars. Tragedy
goes along quite well with family matters. This may
sound cynical but it is not. We are talking of civilization
here. Tragedy and war still belong to civilization.
But suddenly a terrible loss of civilization happened.
It happened when the first mass killings occurred. Suddenly
you did not share anything with your enemies. You had
no meaning in common, no story, no dreams, not even
humanity. You did not even share with them the sense
of tragedy.
Why has our world reached that ultimate point several
times in recent history ? Because of a lack of what
i have come to call family links. Nation links. Literature
links.For poets and novelists used to show us how to
live together a little better. And if not better with
a better sense of the meaning of all this. If we were
not all meant to love our neighbours at least we would
have for them human consideration, even as enemies.
I would like to focus on a period that I have studied
for a while, and that period is the Italian Renaissance.
it illustrates what I am talking about. As you probably
know, the life in Milano, Roma and Florence at the time
of Leonardo da Vinci, Raffaello ,Michelangelo was a
permanent tragedy. You would be hanged for sexual misbehaviour,
wars were commonplace between cities, a lot of people
died of plague and different other diseases. And yet
something happened for much over a century, something
that was a definite progress in the art of living together,
of portraying life, of figuring out the meaning of it.
Something that inspired Europe for five hundred years.
What happened during the Italian Renaissance was a an
attempt to rule out a complex social world by means
of complexity . For once in history,instead of spreading
their neurosis through exterior wars and conquest, cities
and principalities would find a cure within their own
world. And suddenly their world got connected to the
essential which we may name Culture..
Around the fifteenth century the italian regions, the
republic of Florence or small kingdoms such as Milan,
Urbino, suddenly became shells of civilization . The
conflicts, the struggles for power and wealth would
often ease from the inside of the social shell . Thanks
to a network of religious and civil laws. Thanks, as
well, to a social contract that was improving its stability.
The stability of it has been guaranteed sometimes for
more than two or three decades in a row. Like in Florence,
for instance.Twenty years of stability is very long
for these troubled times. That stability was due to
a general acceptance of the common rules and a strong
desire to live together. And the fear of power of course.
But there was something more. Something that is the
incredible density of the popular stories, legends,
tales which were circulating in the population.
Imagine a box . That box is the city of Florence. Inside
the box, your freedom in limited, you cannot marry who
you want, you cannot escape from religion, you cannot
avoid poverty, you cannot say or publish anything you
want. But at least you are part of a world which allows
you to divide the space in the box. That ability brings
a whole world of complexity, it brings sense and it
is the essence of civilization. After a few generations,
life in a community like Florence starts to become a
work of art in itself. For instance if you cannot write
and publish whatever you want, you start to formulate
it a different way. Just to avoid annoying experiences,
like, for instance, being thrown in jail or beheaded
. You would invent humorous sayings, satiric tales with
double meaning . That is the beginning of art in literature.
After having sub-divided the inside of the social box
during generations nearly every city of Italy was a
world in itself. It is so true that you still can observe
what I describe in Sienna or Parma . In Sienna for instance
not only the city but its districts themselves have
their own personality. Storytellers in Italy after a
long while had so much events to observe and so many
characters to portrait, that they have build a cathedral
with words, myths and archetypes through the ages .
European literature has been feeding on it for centuries
and have followed the same path until something happened.
What happened? Some kind of silent disaster.
Il would like to remind you a few steps that led us
to it. Il would like to show you that the opening, the
unfolding of the box has brought unexpected problems
. When you open a carton box without care, sometimes
you unfold it completely. You just flatten it. What
you are left with is a flat piece of carton. No more
box. No more space to divide, no meaning to capture,
because everything that was in the box, or that could
have been in the box is gone. No more reference satellite
to tell you where you are. The cultural GPS is useless.How
did it happen ?
Let me try to tell you.
During the Italian Renaissance Columbus discovered america
and Marco Polo had reached China long before. After
that, our brilliant civilization is supposed to have
flooded the world with its outstanding merits. In fact,
we have very often exported our incapacity to live together.
In most cases we have sent overseas our unsolved problems,
our untold problems.
Take the case of England. A country that has gotten
lots of settlements throughout the world. Very active
colonization indeed. We may explain this by economical
reasons. We may recall the Viking past of England, which
is made of conquest and all sorts of very straightforward
appetites. But we also may remember that, in England,only
the elder sons would inherit land and fortune, and the
other siblings did not. Then they had to find some status
of their own. Colonization appeared to be a solution
to them. Amongst the first pilgrims to America, how
many have practiced the values they brought with them,
the ones they have been raised with ? Most of them betrayed
those values after one or two generations. Most of them
have replaced complexity with the basic simplicity of
greed and violence. The social box had been too widely
opened. They got it flattened. No more rules, no more
memories, no more culture. Or at least much,much less.
Some writers remained faithful to the complexity of
old Europe, I am referring to literary figures like
Edith Wharton or Henry James , who could be considered
as european writers. But let's face it, others have
lowered the standards . We may mention Hemingway as
a good example.
The miracle of the Italian Renaissance in which people
have been endlessly trying to divide a limited social
box in smaller cubes of meaning, the necessity to live
together that would fill theaters, that would get people
to read, paint, look for a better technique in art,
to learn the virtues of satire, of diplomacy, of patience,
all that has been progressively compromised, biased
and sometimes lost when the people of Europe have massively
escaped their problems through conquest and travel.
Jean Jacques Rousseau is the example of a man who has
been unable to find a status in society and who has
invited his readers to flee, to seek the secret of wisdom
by sticking to the simplicity of mother nature. He has
been unable to raise his own kids (that he left more
or less in some kind of orphanage). But he gave advice
around on proper education . And his opinion in most
cases was that none of the old rules should longer apply.
Which means none of the rules he has been unable to
apply himself.
Voltaire like so many of the philosophers of his time
has been also introducing relativity in all human matters.
He has compared religions and civilizations . In many
of his works, he has asked the same question: what is
so great with christianity, what is so unique in Europe.
He has paved the way for a new perception of the European
culture, less centered on the continent. A perception
that is legitimate. that would have been after all ,
if it had remained balanced enough.
Balanced between what and what ?
That is the question .
And the answer is a question again: was there a third
way between a cultural box that is tightly closed, and
a box that has gotten flat for having been opened without
care?
I just tried to show the different layers of european
literature piling, gathering in the same continental
box, The legends knitted together. The continental minds
obeying to the same logic, a logic of vicinity. Then
came the industrial revolution which has opened an entirely
new perspective. A perspective in which in the aspirations
of other areas of the world would, suddenly, be envisioned.
Nowadays anyone has the possibility to refer culturally
to anything in the world, regardless of the human family
he has been raised in. It certainly brought a new vision
. But I am afraid a blurred vision. And I am not the
only one to be afraid of it. A great number of european
writes have been during the nineteenth century.
Look how much romanticism in literature has exploited
the middle ages, the making of the cathedrals , the
succession of tragedies in the history of Europe. Walter
Scott, Victor Hugo, many other writers during the second
half of the nineteenth century have revisited the legend
of the european family . They probably felt already
that the family was at risk because of the industrial
revolution, because of the rising of a middle class,
of new times that were coming. The same remark applies
to Marcel Proust, who desperately tried to gather the
spirit of old Europe before it is wiped out by the first
world war. He described his own fascination for the
old aristocracy. He linked the parisian nobilities to
their ancestors. He traced back the slightest physical
feature they might have in common. Doing that, he would
try to preserve the memories of a lost world. And the
world he was referring to, we know it today, is the
one which that was about to disappear completely during
the war.
Let me also remind you one of Proust favorite themes
: the desperate effort to adopt the customs and values
of old aristocratic Europe when you are not born in
it. Proust had understood, like Alexis de Tocqueville
long before him, that sooner or later, you would not
gain your membership in a cultured society by really
getting merits and talents, but by showing them off.
Sooner or later the new precept was going to be: If
you have no culture, just buy one. And if some refinements
still are unreachable to you, blame the rules that you
are unable to comply with, lower the standards, and
you’ll be at it. Now talking of literature, there is
little wonder that America has started to take over
between the two wars. It has been then, for the United
States, a matter of self esteem. Since a great proportion
of new americans were former europeans, they had a revenge
to take against their world of origin. Since the general
feeling among them was that Europe had been unable to
embrace modernity with its so called family spirit,
America has started a new fashion in modernity : america’s
family spirit has consisted in redefining everything
from a planetary point of view. Not because it is necessarily
the best you can adopt. Primarily, because it is the
one they could afford
European literature then, right after the second war,
has been considered by America as a series of “memories
ot a lost world”. Little wonder again that the great
post-Second war specialist of Marcel Proust was an American
named Painter. He was more or less into cultural forensics
.
If you listen to a young american reader, I mean an
average reader, not a specialist who has been studying
literature for years, he’ll come up with a few prejudices
on european literature. And those prejudices are meaningful.
But first you’ll ask me : why, to make your point, do
you listen to young americans , what dont you listen
to a young reader from anywhere else ?
Because statistically you must admit that Americans
have set the standards. Their perception of european
literature and culture has become the main trend, if
not the only one . You need an example ? Impressionism
. If impressionism as a school of painting had not been
promoted by the american taste, the american collectors,
at the turn of the other century, it would probably
be much less popular in the world of today.
But let us get back to their vision of European literature.
Their average, common statement in the mid eighties,
when I still was a young writer, when I discussed this
with young american readers, was that the events, the
feelings, the characters that we, european authors,
describe in our novels are too small, too complex, and
not entertaining enough. In addition they are too still.
They dont move fast enough.
This, I think, needs a bit of explanation. They come
up with the idea that the European world is too small
and hence unable to draw attention on its narrow plots,
on dramas that take place in some obscure village for
instance.
The link between the size, the extent, the physical
importance of what is described and the interest it
deserves has been, throughout the years, considered
as doubtless -sort of. At least by those who publish
and those who sell. It means that a novel in which the
reader travels from continent to continent is a better
candidate to public recognition than the story of a
child who is left on his own in a sicilian village.
It means, also that, to reach good selling rates, you
should better be exotic and epic in your inspiration.
For instance you would imitate the Dane Karen Blixen,
describe a world of wilderness and beauty in Africa
rather than your narrow suburb of Copenhagen. In that
case if you do comply with that rule you will be more
welcomed, favored , translated, than if you write on
a bicyle repair man who lives next door.
The second criticism that is made to european literature
is its complexity. It means that a novel by Joanna Trollope,
Michel Tournier, Gunther Grass or even myself after
all , is supposed to be difficult to read . For it requests
a level of attention, of imagination, that is too high
for an average mind who gets back from the office at
5, and wants to be entertained .
I should say entertained and/or briefed on some subject.
That is the third criticism most often applied to European
literature: it is smart but not entertaining. If you
try to object that entertainment is not the one and
only thing you may wish to find under the cover of a
book, one would answer ok, I got your point, I like
entertainment but with a plus, entertainment that teaches
you something. I like for instance historical crime
novels, I have read the Da Vinci code, and wow! what
a superbly documented thriller.
Lets examine each of these criticism in a row to try
to find where the truth may be. And chances are we wont
find the truth on Dan Brown's side.
The reproach on the narrowness of the world you find
in the European literature it particularly injust. It
means that to touch the heart of the largest crowds
you must write something epic like War and peace for
the least, something that is beyond the horizon of most
of your readers, and something that is not within the
reach of most novelists. Because, when you are born
in a village in Azerbaidjan, even if you are the most
clever novelist, even if you describe delicate feelings,
in a story that involve twelve members of your obscure
community, you’ll never make it. Today people are supposed
to like everything that is big. Big budget, big show,
big action. And, I should say, big market. We are going
to see that money is what it is all about.
Second reproach, you are too complex, your european
literature is not at the proper level to reach the average
reader. Once again, replace the word reader by the word
customer and you will get closer to the meaning of all
this. The reason why the “European type “ of literature
is said to be difficult may be formulated another way.
It is, basically, more difficult to sell. To be easier
to sell it should comply with the demand. And the demand
is less and less oriented towards what seems to lie
beyond its natural reach. If you compare the average
reader in 1880 to the average reader a century later,
the main difference is that the first one, often an
autodicact, would tend to grasp what was a little too
high for his level of comprehension, whereas the second
would often browse through books that are to him a source
of pleasure, that request no particular effort, and
that are slightly under his skills.
Books that are not demanding, pleasure without effort
that sounds exactly like entertainment.
And that is the third reproach made to european literature.
Most of it, at least in the seventies, has been considered
as insufficiently thrilling, it did not move fast enough
, it was not entertaining enough.
But who has said that art should be entertaining ? Who
has started up that sacred rule ? Those who apply marketing
to literature. The marketing era in literature has started
in the mid-seventies, strangely enough, exactly at the
moment when America started to industrially export its
literary hits . the new fashion became the page turner,
the novel that mobilizes your attention, that floods
your processor without leaving anything in your memory.
Art is the contrary. The memory is mobilized and there
is always extra computing power left on your processor
to imagine, create, be original.
But after all, what is so wrong with entertainment ?
Nothing. In Russia, Hungary, France , England, there
has always been popular novelists who were trying to
catch the masses attention. Novelists whose purpose
was not to get people to think, but to forget what requests
too much thinking. And it is right. It is legitimate.
But, in another kingdom, in a parallel kingdom of literature,
you would also find authors who tried to keep the people
awake and preserve the intimacy they might have with
themselves.
In Europe, these authors were the officiality of literature
not very long ago. They were considered by the mass
of the readers as the leading authors in most european
countries, even though very few people were really reading
their works. At least they had one reward, they would
get recognition for their sense of duty. They were still
showing us the way. Now, thanks to the triumph of international
trade, and with the help of satellite channels, the
most common inspiration, the easiest literature, the
one that doesn't give a damn for wisdom is about to
become the standard in practically every country on
earth. And the other literature, if it still exists,
becomes unable to attract the minimum attention . And
its authors are less and less able to make a mere living
out of it.
I want to stress that the situation I am describing
has never been seen before in Europe and namely in France.
The balance between entertaining books, top selling
novels trendy non-fiction, and the other kind of literature,
the one that reminds us who we are and where we are
coming from, that balance is completely lost.
There are many reasons indeed. The first one is that
among the youngest generation of authors, the dominant
taste, the global taste , I mean the taste for anything
global - we should say the american taste-, is taking
over. Who would have the guts to practice a kind of
literature which is not promised to success? If the
top ten selling books of the year are filled with allusions
to a certain lifestyle, I mean the Bridget Jones lifestyle
for instance, which publishing company would not be
tempted to orient its catalog to such a foreseeable
success ?
Most of the time, a french publisher for instance does
not even have to advise his authors to practice trendy
writing. They do it naturally. But if he wants to force
them to do so, he just stops paying the money they need
to live. And they change their minds for a good check
,especially if they have kids to raise.
Why is the publishing company I am referring to so sure
that if you get off-trend you will not be sold ? Because
they have studied the market over and over again. The
booksellers are the real masters of the game. The booksellers
do not place bets anymore. They do not take chances.
They want a foreseeable income, and they get it. It
explains half of the success of Harry Potter. We might
discuss the other half after my conclusion if you wish.
But everything is getting so trendy, so scientific in
the publishing business today, that if an author goes
off-trend ( providing he can financially afford it once
again) he will never be sold.
Unless the press draws the attention on him. But who,
in the press , will be crazy enough to designate a candidate
to fame that is, for instance, politically incorrect
? Same with art. Some writers now are considered as
artistically incorrect. In fact, in most cases, what
we have come to call the European Literature has
to be artistically incorrect to remain literature.
I was about to forget to tell you one little thing
that I experienced : I have been proposed, many times,
by my own publishing company, to translate novels, and
non- fiction from the english language, and I must say
I have done it. Why did I do it ? Is that because I
needed money? Not even that, I had just enough of it
to keep writing my own novels. Except that my credit
balance at my publisher's was in the dark red zone.
So that from time to time they would give me a novel
to translate, written by a guy who was fortunate enough
to be born in California.
What is so wrong with that ? Nothing. Many european
writers have been translating english or polish novels
in their language to have a side income. The problem
is what. What do they translate ? Mostly english or
american novels. And more and more often, novels that
illustrate an array of values that is totally different
from the ones they believe in.
I know. Different does not mean inferior, no. Not necessarily.
But very often i must say. Lets us stress the terrible
loss of civilization that I mentioned a while ago, because
it affects literature and fiction more than ever. The
success of the crime novel in the western world says
it all. The crime novel started in Europe as a pure
entertainment and has become, thanks to international
trade again, and thanks to America, the core, the alpha
and omega of world literature. It devores all the other
genres. And most of the time it exerts, culturally,
philosophically, a negative influence on the way our
world is going. Look how human values have shifted to
the worst between Simenon and Brett Easton Ellis - the
guy who wrote American Psycho. A novel in which
a young trader methodically tortures and kills young
ladies that he meets in Manhattan. IIn Simenon the victim
is very often the only character of interest. And his
hero, the detective Maigret, feels empathy for him or
her. Now in the modern american crime novels the victim
is just there to puzzle the reader . The interesting
character is not even the detective. Its the murderer.
Remember that before it became a series of successful
movies, the silence of the lambs has been a
novel by Thomas Harris. And just compare the inspiration
of it to any of the books published in Europe a century
before, you'll find out where evolution leads. Il wish
Henry James could be back to read Brett Easton Ellis.
He would tell us about the sense of evolution. It would
tell us that when a nation awards 10 times, with 10
oscars the silence of the lambs in which the
main character traps his victims to eat them, something
is getting wrong in the civilization.
Forgive me, if to make my point easier to understand
i draw here a caricature and I personalize this lecture
a little. But as a french writer I have been sometimes
finding myself in a very paradoxal position that will
help you to get the general picture.
For instance one year I was writing a novel that took
place in Saint Petersburg Russia. The story of an orphan,
a violinist. But my publisher wanted me to translate
some other novel before I start. Which I did. The problem
is, while the world I was describing was full of hope
and goodwill, in the book I was translating, everything
was absolutely disgusting. It took place in Atlantic
City, I remember, murders, tortures, greed, some guy
would have an arm cut apart in a lavatory, with a hunting
knife, by a gang, as a punishment for some unpaid gambling
debt. It was really a very ugly piece of literature.
Moreover, I remember that the girl who gave me this
to translate was the daughter of a french academician.
She was wearing a fancy expansive dress and Dior ear
rings. Why had she bought that horrible book to sell
it throughout Europe ? Because there were big bucks
to make regardless of the compatibility of all this
with our social world. I should add that, when the book
came out, under its french cover, it showed up on the
shelves right in the middle in the booksellers windows.
My own novel did not.
The compatibility between different levels of culture
I just mentioned is the problem . The literature that
has no cultural box to fill , no space to subdivide,
no tradition to refine, is spreading a vision of man
which is far from innocent and far from harmless. For
a society like the Australian one for instance, describing
a world of permanent violence and ignorance has much
less consequences than in our European Society . In
Europe a century and a half ago, we still thought that
the trend of progress would continue to divide the space
in the box until everyone would get a clear conscience
of the meaning of his life. Instead of what, the box
has unfolded completely and now it is flat. The box
is flat when Harry Potter is sold not hundred thousands
, through continental Europe, but millions worldwide,
including markets like argentina and Brazil which, lets
admit it, are very far from Poudlard college. The box
is flat when a californian writer collects a dozen of
theories published after the war in France about the
holy virgin and the descendants of Jesus, adds his own
stuff and sells his fantasies to the people of China
by millions. Yes i am referring to the Da Vinci Code.
The people of China has been deprived, there, of some
serious knowledge about the past of christianity. And
the Europeans have the feeling that someone has been
messing around with their history. But who cares if
it makes big money*?
We care. We, european writers, care. Most of us do.
Most of us do not resent the Da Vinci Code because it
is successful, we resent the fact that international
food replaces gourmet food, industrial Chardonnay decent
wine. Someone who lives in Provence, south of France,
will soon prefer to read a translation of Peter Mayle,
rather than an author born provençal. Same for
Tuscany in Italy.
But what the European writers resent the most is of
course the negation of the influence of literature on
the way the society goes. I have tried to describe Europe
as a world of civilization, a world where people after
nine centuries would prefer to write a satire rather
that shoot their neighbours.
Bad news: the shooting mythology is definitely back.
Our balanced European world, our family is terribly
at risk because the precepts and the references that
were founding our mutual patience are ignored and severely
mocked.
The cultural Global Positioning System does not work
any longer. The number of satellites is too great. Their
signal is too weak. Some young Europeans are still able,
even in a global world, to find a definition of themselves
. And a good sense of morals. On the planet of knowledge,
some readers are still able to find out where they are.
But it is a minority. A majority has access to knowledge,
but only a minority knows how to deal with it. In a
world that is dominated by the blog philosophy, everyone
tends to influence everyone, but who really does? Everyone
wants to get a culture, but who understands what it
means: culture consists in piling up things and notions,
through time and experience. It is not like a couple
of pills to swallow. It is not a bunch of collectible
items to gather. The purpose of a continental literature
is to build a monument from which the visitors may overlook
the meaning of their lives and the past of their people.
If you replace the monument with millions of mobile
homes lined up on flatlands, the skyline is much less
attractive . The meaning less obvious. If you tell the
people that no one is more qualified than they are to
tell their individual stories, I am not sure that civilization
and literature will progress. In fact I am sure of the
contrary. But here we are, poor european writers : the
references to our next door family are out of fashion.
The stories coming from our direct neighborhood sound
corny to the New York Times . Because the New York Times
instinctively acknowledges the emerging of a new market,
of a new world, a world where everyone from Beijing
to Windhoek, would want to raise his kids the Californian
way.
Needless to say that if the top rated inspiration in
world literature is thomas Harris' “Silence of the Lambs”,
most european writers will have so little in common
with it that they will try to wake up the family spirit.
That is exactly my purpose. I have been doing that for
years now. And I see encouraging foresigns of a change
to come.
That is why I am not pessimistic. On the contrary.
I think that Europe is about to recover from a long
period of frantic entertainment in literature, thanks
to the biggest revolution that is still to come : the
replacement of fiction by illusion. The part of the
fiction that belongs to enternainment and that has been
invading literature, will soon shift to pure illusion
through cinema and videogames. It will then confess
its true nature which is to allow people to escape from
reality, to get out of themselves, like in the drugs
experience. It is the exact opposite of what literature
traditionaly represents, that is a world of reconstruction.The
eternal purpose of literature consists in changing one's
vision on reality rather than helping one to escape
from it.
The great incertitude is about what and who will win
on the long run? Entertainment? illusion? Through what
they call now immersion and even total immersion? (In
which you loose control) Or the final winner will be
art, which is that kind of altered state of intelligence
where conscience keeps control and builds an experience
?
I bet on art and experience. And I am confident that
Europe some day will do the same - thanks to its family
spirit.
Age-old attitude fuels the French joie de vivre
From Charles Bremner in Paris
WHILE Tony Blair’s New Year message filled Britain
with foreboding, a tanned and rested Jacques Chirac
treated France to a feelgood chat that highlighted growing
cross-Channel differences.
These involve not so much differing views on Iraq, but
attitudes to age and leadership. These days the 49-year-old
Prime Minister looks weary while still striving for
the sound and look of youth. The President, vigorous,
re-elected and 70 years old, charms the nation with
paternal reassurance.
Rated by women as one of the country’s sexiest men,
the Gaullist President cruises along on the reverence
that France still accords to age, or at least the blind
eye that it turns toward wrinkles. From showbusiness
through the arts and politics to the business world,
the oldies are standing firm, scoring hits and even
widening their power.
“France does not worship the religion of youth like
the United States,” says Françoise Giroud, a
former minister and a still busy commentator, aged 86.
“Here we consider the young to be noisy, annoying and
overexcited. That is why we turn to the more poised
and experienced.”
France has bowed to some extent, along with the rest
of the world, to the rule of le jeunisme but it is the
extent of the oldie power that distinguishes the nation.
Catherine Deneuve remains the model for icy seductiveness
in her 60th year. Her lesbian embrace with Emmanuelle
Béart in Eight Women helped to ensure that the
film was one of last year’s biggest hits.
Jean-Paul Belmondo, the 1970s cinema idol, was married
last week at 69 after starring in 2002’s top television
series. Charles Aznavour, France’s biggest international
singer, reaches 79 this year; Henri Salvador, another
legendary crooner, is knocking out hits at 85. French
residence also helps British women stars. Charlotte
Rampling is still regarded as a smoky goddess at 56,
and Jane Birkin, singer- actress and former wife of
Serge Gainsbourg, also 56, is still loved as the sexy
English girl.
While the British indulge in makeovers and botox, France
is in the grips of a nostalgia binge going back beyond
the baby-boom years. Last year Patrick Bruel’s Entre
Deux, an album of hits from the 1930s and 1940s, topped
the domestic pop charts for weeks.
In the political world, where 74-year-old Jean-Marie
le Pen rivalled M Chirac in last year’s elections, you
are a “young Turk” until 55. One of M Chirac’s cleverest
ploys was his choice of Jean-Pierre Raffarin as Prime
Minister. Although only 53, he is a portly, provincial
politician who affects a 1950s look and manner. Lionel
Jospin, the Socialist Prime Minister, aged 64, blew
his electoral chances when he called M Chirac “old”.
Youth is making advances in some quarters — but only
relatively. The 40 “immortals” of the Académie
Française, now boast an average age of only 77,
down from 80. In the business world, seniors still rule.
The bosses of the big companies are nearly all men in
their 50s and 60s, substantially older than their British
or German counterparts. Last year’s biggest story, the
disgrace of Jean-Marie Messier, the former chief and
founder of Vivendi Universal, was widely put down to
the inexperience of his meagre 45 years.
According to apologists for the oldie cult, the resistance
of the “grandpa generation” is another Gallic exception
in the face of the American cultural bulldozer. Christian
Combaz, author of the popular Eloge de l’Age (In Praise
of Age), believes it is all about attachment to quality,
tradition and the countryside.
“Our society is strongly anchored in peasant wisdom.
We think life is a story with a beginning, a middle
and an end,” Combaz says. “In contrast, the ‘Anglo-Saxons’
think life is a series of instant moments. It’s their
‘Kodak’ side. In their merchant world you are not supposed
to be more than 35.”
The French are not obsessed with staying young and
they value the wisdom of “the noble old man with the
white beard”, according to Combaz. “France is ageing
without trying to ape the young . . . An old lady saying
she loves Boy George, like you see in England, would
be unthinkable here.”
With his reference to the white beard, Combaz was referring
to l’Abbé Pierre, at 90 an active champion of
the poor who, according to polls, is the most popular
person in the country.
Some experts think that there is something schizophrenic
about the worship of age. Alain Rozenkier, an age researcher
for the National Insurance administration, says that
the young secretly do not want to overthrow the elderly
because they seek reassurance for their own futures.
“What we like with the old is their experience and
sheer longevity,” he says. “Everyone has the desire
to survive in their professional life, like an Aznavour
or a Chirac.”
A little life
© Christian Combaz Editions Flammarion
Paris 1996 /
Poland, 1990. Jaroslaw, illegitimate child of a Catholic
priest, is brought up by the priest's sister and believes
his real father to be " Uncle Boris ". He
becomes a musician and marries a Russian violinist.
They have a son, Wladimir. Mother dies. Jaroslaw plays
the accordion to make a living but spends all money
on drinking.
Rich people offer an half-sized violin to the extraordinary
gifted Wladimir who however is suffering from leukemia
and expected to die before the age of 15.
2 years after, Uncle Boris, Jaroslaw and Wladimir travel
to Warsaw to buy a full sized violin. The salesman's
daughter, Renia Wenzel, happens to be there. She lives
in New York. She offers an expensive instrument to Wladimir
but only the child knows the real price and he never
tells his father about it.
Uncle Boris dies.Jaroslaw and Wladimir start roaming
about in Eastern Europe, playing in spas and summer
resorts. The father gets more and more alcoholic. People
notice the child's virtuosity.
Saint Petersburg, Russia. They are playing in banquets
and make part of their living in the streets. Father
and son are introduced to Anton Illitch Mratchnov, a
business tycoon. They make good money but father spends
it on booze and gambling. Unable to pay his gambling
debts, he tries to escape from town but is caught by
the mafia. The deal is : pay the debts or kill a man,
Capt Sretenski, a former naval officer and a dubious
individual who, among other things, sells russian child
porn to swedish sailors. It is said that he has got
a hidden hoard somewhere underground near Petersburg.
A musician identifies the violin as a Steiner and tells
Jaroslaw that his son's violin is worth $200 000 at
least. Fearful of his father selling it, the child writes
to Renia Wenzel, hoping for protection.
Jaroslaw is granted two weeks respite, either to pay
or to kill. He meets Galina, Sretenski's daughter. He
manages to sell the violin and substitute it for a second
rate fiddle. The son discovers the fake.
Sretenski is wounded in an attempted assassination.
Jaroslaw suspected and arrested by the Militia. Galina
accommodates the son but he cannot stay. He sleeps outside,
playing in the street. He is soon arrested and sent
to Borstal.
Renia Wenzel has flown to Petersburg, but too late.
Galina and Renia Wenzel meet. They decide to see Mratchnov,
who is the " boss " of the town. Father and
son are immediately freed. Jaroslaw accordion has been
stolen while he was in jail.
All meet for dinner at Mratchnov's invitation in a
grand hotel. The host has just bought the violin back
by telephone to a german dealer and asks Jaroslaw to
accompany him to Frankfurt. As for the loss, he could
buy a whole accordion factory, he says.
Quick trip to Germany in a private Learjet. The violin
is back. Mratchnov purchases a lot of electronic gadgets
for Wladimir.
Renia wants Wladimir to be examined by professor Grzimek,
a friend of hers, violinist and a retired physician
in New-York. The old man flies to Saint Petersburg.
He is moderately impressed with Wladimir's talent as
a violinist , but he says the child is an exceptional
composer.
Mratchnov accommodates father and son in his palace.
Galina is working in his headquarters. Capt Sretenski,
sent to a Moscow clinic. Wladimir is carefully nursed
and receives frequent blood transfusions.
Galina tells Jaroslaw about the hoard her father has
buried somewhere . Jaroslaws pays a visit to the old
man, to find out if it's true. But Sretenski , slightly
out of his brains, seems unable to remember.
Renia returns to New-York. Lavish send-off by Mratchnov,
he takes her for an opera singer she says. Then he flies
to New Orleans in his private plane, together with Jaroslaw,
Wladimir and Galina. Why Louisiana ? Since his early
years, Jaroslaw believes it's the " accordion Mecca
".
Mratchnov leaves them in a rented house and flies to
New York to court Renia for a couple of days. He shocks
people around, because of his lack of good manners.
Meantime, usual misconduct by Jaroslaw downtown N-Orleans.
Wladimir, suddenly very ill. Mratchnov " business
" in Russia starts to encounter serious problems.
The whole party flies back to Moscow . In a public bath,
Mratchnov and Jaroslaw are attacked by gunmen. Mratchnov
wounded. Renia immediately flies to Moscow . They declare
their love to each other.
Wladimir still very ill, wants to see Capt Sretenski
for the last time. The Capt dies right after their meeting.
Spectacular improvement of Wladimir. All believe in
a miracle.
One year later, Jaroslaw and Galina ; Mratchnov and
Renia get married the same day in Moscow. Wladimir in
good health, starts a living as a composer, career seems
heading the right way. Mratchnov has abandoned his dodgy
business in Russia, he now lives in New York with Renia
and is successful as an art dealer.
All the family gathers in NY for Christmas ( Jaroslaw
and Galina, still living in Moscow with their newborn
named Boris).
Shortly after a cheerful party in a Russian restaurant,
Wladimir collapses and dies.
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