Fragrances of words
As the novel finally seemed to me to be a developed extension of an opera libretto, I had the idea at the end of the 90s to write one and then two. Gérard De Villiers having published them after receiving the manuscripts, I then wrote two others which were published in another publishing house. Encouraged by the momentum a dozen followed.
Here are excerpts from three of them, Le Caillou, Copié / Collé and The Man Who Had Found Happiness. Works not yet published.
Selected texts:
Prisoner :
Out of curiosity and perverse fun I undertook one day to list the bars that are naturally present in our life. Then, taken to the game, I added the multiple and discreet ways we have to alienate ourselves. Even if it takes a humorous turn, so as not to throw myself into the channel before I have finished, the finding is not encouraging. Here is a selection from a long list which is itself far from exhaustive as we fear. Only optimistic note, it stops one day for everyone.
Anthropoforms:
They live in the shadows
They feed on shade
They are stupid and explode when they think
They only appear in three physical types
They are amoral and insensitive
They do not have a name and only have a number.
These are the Anthropoforms.
It is also a comic strip of which here are some boards.
Parentheses :
Why "Parentheses"?
Because for as intimately contextual as they are, they nonetheless remain animated with their own life. A short life. A few words sometimes.
They have no impact. They don't have that pretension. They slip on tiptoe in the sentence as in our mind or like a flash sometimes. Hence the concept of "parentheses".
These are just traces. Resonances thoughts.
Sometimes written on a metro seat or in a park during solitary wanderings in Paris, sometimes still linked to contingency or simply spontaneous generation because my life had arrived at a precise moment for one of them.
Here are a few unveiled here like a diary. It is a selection from a collection of several hundred now started in the early 90s. My fidelity to their perpetuation and their presence on all other media, music, paintings, photographic paintings, illustrates my attachment to them. They are not Truths, they are only personal reflections, a pleasure that I took to writing them and which helps me to live.
The pebble :
It is a comic-fantasy novel. Convinced that eternity is the privilege of minerals, the Caillou will remain attached to an obsession: to inhibit his affect and leave his intellect in the state of brain bonsai. In addition, his body will remain that of a boy. However, his meeting with the son of an African griot will transform his trajectory into an incredible destiny bringing him universal glory but also downfall.
Based on this scenario, the tone of this novel could only be of an assumed food, especially since the hero - with a goldfish IQ as we can guess - is supposed to write his own story ... That said , it seems a little quick to deduce that the vocation of this novel is pure comedy.
Painting photography contemporary abstract expressionism Dominique Dupray Modern artist Normandy lyrical baritone classical composer opera writer poet aphorism tale philosophy creator Tréport gallery paintings Eu
Copy and paste :
Norbert is a taxi driver. Despite his hatred of literature he will accept the strange book offered by an astonishing client. A book with blank pages (!). It so happens that from that moment his story of a man with a small mind will become the content of a novel, which will write itself. Without soon knowing who dictates the life of the other.
Novel to be classified in the fantastic genre.
The Man who spoke to Happiness:
A man whose name and past we will never know claims to go and speak to Happiness. He will walk in a mute, transparent nature where everything will be a pretext for seemingly futile and useless questions. Halfway through, tired of solitude, he conceived the idea of a companion, a fat man in a gray coat, an approximate, mute being, an idea made concrete but to be developed like any idea.
This novel, by its atmosphere, is akin to an unfinished and unfinishable philosophical wandering. I created a musical adaptation of this work. The entire text is sung there.
