The small literary history attests, the meeting actually took place one evening of May 18 at the Ritz at a dinner given by Sydney and Violet Schiff honor of Stravinsky. Marcel Proust and James Joyce met. To say what? Nothing to what he seems. The versions differ, they are reported in the biography of Joyce by Richard Ellmann, but Joyce himself said it was not the most brilliant, he even said we imagine a little disillusioned, "When the two greatest literary figures of our time meet, they wonder if they like truffles. "
Roegiers made the story the subject of his novel, two novelists and the heroes of a very unusual friendship. Since the flame has not burst, he is left to invent a literary friendship. That's what he is working on the night of the world, we do enter this place of the invisible reality is also that of literature, a world Proust and Joyce had things to share a unique moment.
Patrick Roegiers with the fact that it is customary truculence, neologisms and verbal inventions are going well, the novel is literally littered (hold on!), But beyond that, a great knowledge of the works shows through the text, the mark of a long companionship, without which the novel could not stand.
could bring Roegiers Julian Rios (both by the inventiveness that through knowledge and proximity to these works-world) or even if there Rios excels at writing a novel on the novel unfolds Roegiers his talent to show the two men hidden behind the works. The novel ends seven months later with a beautiful funeral scene (that of Proust) in which Roegiers calls like a ghost ball all the pantheon of great writers. welcome from all the worldly novelist as their equal, in a chapter finally really moving.
But he hides throughout the novel a third figure, which is essential, which remains in the shadows and achieves a very strange synthesis between Proust and Joyce. I mean of course Beckett, Irish writer who chooses a language for the French (and who wrote a book on Proust). Beckett who is there when you can not say the world, when in the absence of words, finally the night of the world.
But he hides throughout the novel a third figure, which is essential, which remains in the shadows and achieves a very strange synthesis between Proust and Joyce. I mean of course Beckett, Irish writer who chooses a language for the French (and who wrote a book on Proust). Beckett who is there when you can not say the world, when in the absence of words, finally the night of the world.
They were only two shadows. Jim was no less alive than him, he knew it. Anxious to disclose news of the Beyond: - It is a world away. There is no worse than ours. On the other side of reality, or center, or is the difference?
When you die, you can not wake up. That's the difference.
- The death of a writer does not exist.
- Writing is our only destiny.
- Life lasts but a moment.
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