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Philippe Jaenada / David Goodis

Mr. Chairman, I am

a letter - as someone said that today would be confused, or amused at all, go figure - but to be honest (do not lie makes light), it is not envy that choke.

We write to people we love in general - or to Taxes, Social Security ...

You give a book seems even more ridiculous. And yet, let's sport, let's noble, I send you a letter and a book. (To continue on these beautiful rail franchise, my approach is in reality neither sport nor very noble: I have a good reason to send you the book and letter, I come in ten lines.)

To which is the book I chose Nightmare , David Goodis.
First because I like the title (I am under no illusions, I know you do not read so much that everything fits in the title), then because David Goodis is an excellent writer , it does not run cemeteries, and because it is a whodunit (it reads like a fairy tale - illusions, let me go), and finally because it is the story of a miscarriage of justice.

And now the subject of my letter, that is why, after thinking "I have nothing to say to Nicolas Sarkozy," I replied "But if, of course, if potatoes. "

Last week, I drank a shot down at me with Julien Blanc-Gras (which I recommend - I am Don Quixote - the Gringoland ) when, after a question about his looks a little concerned he told me about his friend Romain. His friend
Roman is a young man all he is most calm and friendly (as Julien, besides, who would not hurt a fly drunk on the edge of his glass), son of teachers Valenciennes (I wonder why I said: it may be the son of violinist and robbing little old, but still, "son of teachers Valenciennes," I do not know, it raises its young man), music journalist and jailed for four months in Fleury- Mérogis.
imprisoned after arrest and trial in immediate appearance at events following your election.
It reminded me of something. I heard on the radio that put in the shade, yes, it seemed to me - this "expulsion" of society. I obviously found it expedient and severe, to remain measured, but I did not know exactly what was going on.

Here is the small, sad history of Roman ...
May 6, Romain, 29, son of Valenciennes teachers and music journalist, visited Place de la Bastille to protest, peaceful expression (which is allowed, I think) his disapproval, his dismay and concern at the announcement of election results and taking power of the new President (you). He does not like your program, or your personality, I do not know - anyway, it's not nice for you, but it is not banned, I'm sure.
However, in late evening, excited, mad, thugs, breakers, took the offensive, bombing, troops of the task order, bombing, the bazaar is cataclysmic: Roman, who has not the soul warrior, decides to return home. That's better, it will be quieter. On leaving, he picks up a stone in memory of this fun evening disaster (he makes collection - it's not good, in my opinion, disturbing to note this peculiarity, that's insane, almost psychotic, I smell a revolt latent, hidden, passionate type in secret by the protest, the bad element that will one day do us harm (this is not right, the stamps? boxes of Camembert, it has at least tried?), but again, the train Franchise should not stop at the station of Fear). So he starts en route to his home (he lives near the Hotel de Ville), but access to the Place de la Bastille are blocked by police barricades.
Romain, son of music journalists and teachers Valenciennes, comes with a cord so blandly CRS, as it has the right, his hand still paved (tear gas having awakened his asthma, he had no any doubt over his head).
He jumps, is thrown to the ground, a large heavily shod foot crushes his face (and glasses) cons a manhole, he was taken, carried away in custody to view, passes twenty-four hours the filing of the Palais de Justice (delicious, one suspects, in a cell he shares with six defendants few philosophers, and with only companions comfort, for twenty-four hours, a jar of applesauce and a small bottle of water), and immediately tried by. He arrives at court in a pitiful state, incredulously, in a nightmare. An undercover officer said he saw throwing three stones ("unable to say whether these stones have met or injured policemen"), Roman denies that - several witnesses at the scene could support his statements (Romain is honest Romain is a friend of the franchise - perhaps the police too, after all, he could be wrong), but these cookies will not be heard, no nothing else to do, Let's Get carbide, is that the public way that is not funny. Move on, witnesses. The Roman lawyer, who probably has lots of qualities also suggest he does not play the rebel, heads down and "thank the police for having arrested before he committed the irreparable . (The guidance counselor of the brave man does not only triumphs to his name.)
Roman, who sees his only ally that lawyer (who must say vaguely in the fog of unreality that time, if has been arrested before he committed something, that he has done nothing), relies on his guard and repeat the phrase. A moment later, the case is folded, Romain is propelled towards Fleury-Merogis four months firm.
Well done, we have had is resolved, under your applause.
He did not appeal because the process is long, and it would in any case his sentence (punishment, retribution) before the second trial.

So of course, Nicolas (here I put a hand on your shoulder, depending on your method now legendary), I am aware that this is not you who sent this brave boy innocent spend the spring and summer in the shade in a cage. But you know what that is, the euphoria of victory, the desire to please the leader, the consciousness of being backed by the power: stories for razzle-l'oeil, spirit Cador, a brave boy innocent, whose only fault was protesting against you, finds himself locked up for four months with guys who have violated their neighbor or smashed the head of a passer.

It seems that it is not particularly strong, Romain. Immersed there, it will taste. He enjoyed, at I write - 7:30 am. It may leave traces (four months is more than enough to leave marks), it will come out damaged, or at least changed. All this, this pseudo justice in the Middle Ages, this sequestration of a young man captured at random, for what? To make a good impression. In a crush
to impress others.

Nightmare, nightmare. You will not read Nightmare , David Goodis. You do not release without doubt the Roman on a whim without charge. But if you could think a little bit, if only two minutes tonight before you sleep, that would be it gained for your consciousness - that of France, so if I understand.

Hoping to spend a long time between the cracks, please accept, Mr. President, my greetings distant.

Philippe Jaenada *




last novel published Life and Death of the blonde girl, Paperback (2006)

What Polish Can You Use With Konad

Anne-Marie Garat / James Agee Agnes

Mr. President,

J ' have chosen to send Let Us Now Praise Famous Men .
Just the title is exhilarating: we love that tells us the history of great men ...
James Agee died in a taxi 45 years, May 16, the day of the death of his father. From these coincidences which we say they do not result only from competition for the occasion. Novelists do not dare to put things in their fiction of reality that are unbelievable, unbelievable, yet life exceed in extravagance, cruelty and beauty of all that human imagination can conceive. Agee thinks so, after spending six weeks in Alabama in the wretched tenants.

In 1936, the magazine Time-Life New York sends to a report on the effects of the Great Depression in the wilds of South America. It starts with Walker Evans, one of the greatest American photographers, yet poorly understood at the time. At the beginning of the book, you'll see some of his photos. One might ask these buildings, these men, women, children, these cotton fields, the kitchen table, these pitiful objects on a mantel, this well-worn pair of shoes if they are to photograph, s' they affect the look. If they have something to teach us. How to see, what is a document? That is the terrible question: What are we seeing if our life is not only blind to cross into our surroundings?

here I would tell you about another book, a French novel by Victor Hugo: Les Miserables . Just an incision on the fiction that takes liberties with reality, they say. In this novel of genius, where sewer literary rush all genres, Hugo undermines the imposture of realism. His dark novel told where all humanity deprived of itself, held at the lowland hellish misery. Read the chapters: The mine and the miners. The shoal. Read Champmathieu senseless argument, the man without speaking to say himself, stuttering his crippled tragic history, triggering laughter from the court.

Dreamer, Hugo? Extra lucid news, our contemporary sense.

Agee wrote his book, standing face to the invisible reality. He notes. He describes. A house tenants. Each man's body, woman, child, and their clothes. Bare foot, nail horn. One bedroom, one by one the objects, the chimney, above the fireplace, calendar, lamp, cabinet and everything in it, dishes, utensils, tools. The boater corn, little mirrors, beds. The smell rancid, musty, sweat, vermin. The oilcloth, forks, bread crumbs in the cracks, mismatched cups, two plates each. The work shirts, shoes, mules. Tenant farming and sharecropping, dust, mud and grass puny, school, inaccessible Negroes neighbors, festering wound in the shoulder, the seam of blue overalls, the blue "changed in unison through perspiration, the sun, laundry, the constant tension of use and age ... you could stare at such a garment, and even touch, study, eyes, fingers, lips subtle, and length of time, and never learn it perfectly and I have not seen a combination reached that point of wear, the texture and color will make up a world to them, delight. "

Beware the rapture of Agee. It is made of anger and despair.

Read the litany of inventories, his rage and distress to identify, and name, which is about the unfathomable, the unthinkable indignity, the criminal offense there is to wear eye on the man assigned to this state. And there, do fear or lyrical or pathetic or sentimental in these pages. That consciousness of a desecration of the imposture of the document as fiction, art operations to such a subject. And he reaches however the artwork, by the effort of knowledge. For the delicate surgery and a cruel act he performs in fear and honor, along with the cold, reverence, pity, guilt developed acute heart ... "I'm just myself , a young man standing in the sweat of my clothes at the back porch of a separate certain house, collapsed in the depths of rural Alabama as a rock in the sea, in the torpid heat of a white morning ... "

This book anticipates the command from Roosevelt to the Farm Security Administration between 1935 and 1938: to illustrate the effects of New Deal, it sent Ben Shahn, Russell Lee, Arthur Rothstein, Dorothea Lange, Walker Evans photographed the people of the South American crisis-hit ... Their work is a record of working memory. At the same time, Steinbeck describes the misery agricultural exodus of the unemployed in Grapes of Wrath , mice and men ...

In Let Us Now Praise Famous Men , Agee n'esthétise n'héroïse or poverty. In political writer, he seeks the form of language that is shared human experience, and his book, published to great evil, is one of the most sublime testimony of literature.

Mr. President, read wastes no time, he wins. Read gives added value to our human capital. The books we know, they read us and we think that long after we have closed. They praise the great men that we can be.

Yours.


Anne-Marie Garat



* * Latest published novel: In the hand of the devil , Actes-Sud, 2006