Christine Fizscher
Christine Fizscher est l’auteur de La nuit prend son temps (Seuil, 2007) et de documentaires sur l’Afrique. Elle réalise des entretiens avec des artistes pour Artnet...
La dernière femme de sa vie
Auteur
Parution :
05/01/2011
Collection :
La Bleue
THE LAST LOVE OF HIS LIFE
Their meeting is nothing special.
Spring 2000. On the Place Saint-Germain-des-Prés. The love between Sartre and de Beauvoir is being celebrated with a plaque. Gathered for the occasion are a few philosophers, some writers, a handful of feminists and the great André Markhem. The first exchange between him and Alma is brief. He gives her a number. She forgets it or thinks she does, one or the other. All it took was a few weeks and a message on an answering machine for the affair to assume its full meaning. Nine years, more than a drop in the ocean.
Alma could have been the last love of André’s life, a man who had lived through almost a century, gave it soul, hugged it close to him, a man who had loved and seduced a great deal, and who confronted the end of his existence with all his strength. He could have died thinking only of her, because they loved each other, passionately, violently, venerating each other to the point of wanting to be each other. Alma could have possessed André at every stage in his life, going back through time and belonging to him at the start. “I’ll never find you again.” “Not easily.” “Never.” “Why do I feel like shooting myself in the head?” “Because we both see things in terms of the absolute.” Every fragment of their relationship is contaminated by a common quest for the absolute. Meals are feasts, banal conversations are verbal jousting, and sex is played out uninterrupted. Are they trying in vain to cheat death?
Nine years have passed. André has published his memoirs and Alma divides her time between writing and directing. She is divorced, makes love with other men, and women too. She has recently moved in with someone she calls “the crab” who pinches her breasts. On 24th October 2009, she received a letter from André, a definitive letter.
This roman à clés will be valued for its commitment to higher emotions: it deals with love, of course, but also with the world endlessly travelled by the two lovers, with death, inevitably, and with a specific section of French culture, but mostly it is a vibrant homage to a man. An intellectual who enjoyed adulation for the role he played, and still plays, in the collective memory of a particular moment in world history.
Christine Fizscher is the author of La nuit prend son temps (Seuil, 2007) and has directed documentaries about Africa. She directs interviews with artists for Artnet.
Their meeting is nothing special.
Spring 2000. On the Place Saint-Germain-des-Prés. The love between Sartre and de Beauvoir is being celebrated with a plaque. Gathered for the occasion are a few philosophers, some writers, a handful of feminists and the great André Markhem. The first exchange between him and Alma is brief. He gives her a number. She forgets it or thinks she does, one or the other. All it took was a few weeks and a message on an answering machine for the affair to assume its full meaning. Nine years, more than a drop in the ocean.
Alma could have been the last love of André’s life, a man who had lived through almost a century, gave it soul, hugged it close to him, a man who had loved and seduced a great deal, and who confronted the end of his existence with all his strength. He could have died thinking only of her, because they loved each other, passionately, violently, venerating each other to the point of wanting to be each other. Alma could have possessed André at every stage in his life, going back through time and belonging to him at the start. “I’ll never find you again.” “Not easily.” “Never.” “Why do I feel like shooting myself in the head?” “Because we both see things in terms of the absolute.” Every fragment of their relationship is contaminated by a common quest for the absolute. Meals are feasts, banal conversations are verbal jousting, and sex is played out uninterrupted. Are they trying in vain to cheat death?
Nine years have passed. André has published his memoirs and Alma divides her time between writing and directing. She is divorced, makes love with other men, and women too. She has recently moved in with someone she calls “the crab” who pinches her breasts. On 24th October 2009, she received a letter from André, a definitive letter.
This roman à clés will be valued for its commitment to higher emotions: it deals with love, of course, but also with the world endlessly travelled by the two lovers, with death, inevitably, and with a specific section of French culture, but mostly it is a vibrant homage to a man. An intellectual who enjoyed adulation for the role he played, and still plays, in the collective memory of a particular moment in world history.
Christine Fizscher is the author of La nuit prend son temps (Seuil, 2007) and has directed documentaries about Africa. She directs interviews with artists for Artnet.
Leur rencontre n’a l’air de rien. Printemps 2000. Place Saint-Germain-des-Prés, on célèbre par une plaque les amours contingentes de Sartre et Beauvoir. Sont présents quelques philosophes, des écrivains, une poignée de féministes et l’immense André Markhem. Entre lui et Alma, le premier échange est bref. Il lui laisse un numéro. Elle oublie ou croit oublier, peu importe. Il suffira de quelques semaines et d’un message sur un répondeur pour que l’histoire prenne tout son sens. Neuf ans, ce n’est pas rien.
Alma aurait pu être la dernière femme de la vie d’André, lui qui a traversé un presque siècle, l’a animé, serré au plus près, lui qui a aimé et séduit, beaucoup, et aborde de toute sa puissance la fin de son existence. Il aurait pu mourir et ne penser qu’à elle, car ils se sont aimés, avec passion, avec violence, en se vénérant l’un l’autre au point d’espérer échanger les corps. Alma aurait pu posséder André à tous les âges, remonter le temps et lui appartenir aux commencements. « Je ne vous retrouverai jamais. – Pas facilement. – Jamais. – Pourquoi ai-je envie de me tirer une balle dans la tête ? – Parce que nous avons tous les deux le goût de l’absolu. » Chaque fragment de leur histoire est contaminé par une quête partagée de l’absolu. Les repas sont des festins, le banal échange une joute verbale et le sexe se joue sans interruption. Est-ce la mort qu’ils tentent en vain de tromper ?
Neuf ans ont passé. André a publié ses mémoires et Alma partage son temps entre écriture et réalisation. Elle a divorcé, fait l’amour avec d’autres hommes, des femmes aussi. Elle cohabite depuis peu avec ce qu’elle nomme « un crabe », et qui lui pince la poitrine. Elle a reçu une lettre d’André, le 24 octobre 2009. Une lettre définitive.
272 pages
Format :
135 x 215 mm
EAN :
9782234064928
Prix :
22.00 €
