Men by Marie Darrieussecq

Author:Marie Darrieussecq
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Published: 2016-03-14T04:00:00+00:00

BUSINESS CLASS

He hated psychological claptrap. Not all the inventions from the north were to be rejected, of course—medicine and science were especially welcome—but the only worthwhile psychology was that used with dreams, taboos and deep-seated forces. As an actor, he had always rejected psychological motivation, all the fuss around Coppola’s directions, to Brando, Hopper or Sheen—each one more drugged and hopeless than the other, in any case. He was interested in phenomena connected with the collective unconscious, and all forms of non-verbal communication; but the individual unconscious left him cold. In Heart of Darkness there is not one single psychological explanation: just facts, actions, consequences. One driving force: inordinate greed. One type of conduct: brutality. One result: hatred. It’s up to the audience to work out what the emotions are, if that’s what they’re after. As director, he would leave it to the actors and actresses to delve into the depths of their souls, but in silence, for God’s sake.

She was in love with a man whose name was The Stake of Death Has Been Planted. She tried to get used to this idea. And she loved it that he explained things to her, that he cared enough to explain things to her. If he spoke to her it meant he loved her.

On the plane he was happy. He wanted to see Paris again, the historical buildings. He never imagined he’d have so many interviews lined up. He stretched out his long legs in his spacious seat; she held his hand between the wide armrests; he would have happily smoked a cigar. They ordered champagne, vodka frappés and truffle canapés. Air France was still Air France, goddamn it. He hardly ever swore, or only as a joke. He even made a point of speaking a more polished French than was necessary, as if he felt responsible for the respectable behaviour of every African in the world. In the business-class cabin of flight AF066 to Paris, in which only a gentle rumbling could be felt at take-off—here, in the luxury of the skies, flying over the northern snow, it was the stewardesses he spoke to. He and Solange had champagne, beauty, and the pleasure of being looked at, recognised, and of being the subject of no end of attention, and of clearly being the most glamorous couple in the plane (538 passengers).

Yes, he wanted to see Paris again, the historical buildings. And he was happy about all the appointments. When he had managed to emigrate, Paris had seemed more familiar to him than his birth country. Cameroon was dysfunctional, but he wasn’t. He recognised everything. The culture, the language; France had been in his blood since childhood: he’d recited Molière and Racine and fallen desperately in love with his French teacher (he didn’t elaborate on this chapter of his life). His whole being was shaped by the idea of structure that characterised the French people, by the structures of the French language. He had seen Paris a thousand times. The sharpness

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.