Christophe Claro on "French literature"

Meandering around the internet last week, I came across the blog of Christophe Claro, who is one of the more unique voices writing the French language, as well as the French voice of Pynchon, Rushdie, and Vollman, whose works he has translated.  Claro's blog, called Le Clavier Cannibale [the Cannibal Keyboard] after his latest novel (Editions Inculte), is a collection of odds and ends and occasionally the site of compelling discursions on matters literary and non-. One in particular, "Aux écrivains la patrie méconnaissante," caught my eye, since I'm interested in the problematic concept of national literatures, and, thinking it might be interesting for an English-speaking audience as well, I took it upon myself to translate it, with Claro's permission. For more on Claro, see François Monti's interview in The Quarterly Conversation.

Writers Without Country*

A cultural magazine (doesn't matter which, alas) has devoted a recent cover article to the following question: "Is French literature dead?" Of course, we have no doubt that the ten writers asked to "respond" are going to nuance, or even contradict this staggering possibility.

We also vaguely imagined that the article would serve as a kind of response to the incredibly dull polemic which grew up around Donald Morrison's article for Time magazine not long ago [Ed: The Death of French Culture].  Nevertheless, the very fact of using this kind of question to hook the reader speaks volumes. The question is provocative, though in a way I can't quite put my finger on.  What bothers me is not that it is provocative (and, to say the least, absurd); no, what bothers me (not that I'm losing sleep over it) is that it contributes tot he reification of this disastrous notion of "French literature" as a defined body of work, a paper entity, go figure-- and the question of the morality of this corpus, whether or not this is in question, conspires to personify an object of study which is all the same difficult to define. 

Because really, what is "French literature"? Books written by French authors? French-speaking authors? French-speaking French authors? A translation doesn't count? Although? If it's written in French? By a French person? What are the necessary conditions to be considered an author of French literature? How many months a year do you have to live in Paris or in Laval? Does French have to be your mother tongue? Does your subject have to wear a beret? When Raymond Federman writes in French, is that French literature? If Jim Harrison were naturalized tomorrow, would he count retroactively?

In short, it's all very complicated. And if "French literature" is a less precise idea than it would seem to be, how can we imagine that this imprecise idea could, like a body, be subject to an organic phenomenon like death? How can a literature die? Did it have to be born first? Is it possible for it to get sick? Does it grow up, or get old? These kinds of questions only reinforce the rancid notion of "generational literature" [a kind of literature that is associated, for better or for worse, with a group of writers of about the same age, and treating the problems of their generation] -- we had more fun, even, with the invigorating notion of the "death of the author."

So contested is the idea of French literature in the writers' responses in said article, that the mere fact that [the editors] thought it might produce something useful says more about literary criticism than it does about literature.  The scare quotes, I hate to say, don't change much.  The word "French" is pretty and all that, but as soon as we apply it to literature, that great destroyer of borders, or, for that matter, with the idea of death, well, we become aware of a a certain anxiety that-- how to put it? Perhaps we ought to reserve this kind of questioning for the obituary section (i.e. "It is with regret that we announce the death of French literature," and a memorial service would be held upstairs at the Café du Flore) or for the medical journals ("Researchers in Marne-la-Vallée have perhaps found the miracle drug to counteract the degeneration of French literature.  Preliminary testing has been carried out on the afflicted inhabitants of St Germain-des-Prés").  However, we look forward to reading the responses generated by this cultural magazine, which we hope is safe from nasty existential headcolds.

*I'm not entirely happy with this title.  Anyone want to suggest something better?

Comments

[amy]

It is with regret that we announce the death of French literature," and a memorial service would be held upstairs at the Café du Flore

hahaha

[Nic]

"Writers without Borders", perhaps, in the same way that MSF is "Doctors without Borders" in English ?

[Lesley]

Or what about a variation on another wartime slogan: "Writers, Your Country Doesn't Need You" ?

[le gaulois]

"Writer Lackland" would suggest a writer with knowledge of his historical heritage although not limited by boundaries.

[tcheni]

Hi Lauren,

Re your title problem. You probably know that (but maybe some of your readers don't): "Aux grands hommes la patrie reconnaissante" is the inscription engraved on the Panthéon, and Claro is clearly referring to this.
The usual translation is "To the great men the grateful homeland", from where we can derive something like "To the writers the ignorant homeland". (It might be too literal for your taste though... plus, there is this problem with "méconnaissante", which is not really a word but is derived from "méconnaître", connaître mal, a verb without any proper translation in english.)

PS: I was also sad not to find an equivalent for "entité papetière" (paper is too vague... "stationeral entity"?), and surtout, to "cette grande branleuse de frontière"! ("Destroyer" conveys only half of the meaning, and not the most visual half, as I'm sure you perfectly know ;). This kind of expressions is what makes Claro's voice precious.

PPS for those unfamiliar with the guy: Claro is also the translator of Danielewsky, Selby Jr (just for Waiting period, but still) and Flint. What could properly be called une brute de travail. I sometimes buy books just because he is the translator (he disappointed me recently though, with Decomposition by J. Eric Miller, quite indigent).

[maitresse]

Bravo Tcheni! Justemment, I couldn't come up with a good way to translate Claro's allusive title, and I wasn't happy with any of the non-literal translations I came up with. I like "Writers Without Borders," though, thanks Nic!

And yeah, "paper entity" is kind of flat, as is "destroyer," but I came up empty when I tried to get the full French meaning of "branleuse de frontières"!

Thanks to everyone for your suggestions.

[Adam]

Without speaking about the specifics of language or nationality, would it not be better to speak about the death of literature as a whole (which has been argued on many occasions)?

However, surely cultures can have specific trends and preferences, and it is not beyond the realms of possibility to imagine one form of cultural expression growing or declining within the loose framework of physical frontiers.

[penis size]

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_________________

Penis Size

[badaude]

French lit may be dead but French design evidently not (love the Cannibal Keyboard illustration). xbadaude

[AnOminous]

Took a while for the French to get over the post-colonial thing inevitably questioning the concept of a "national" literature. Anglo lit went through that bout of puberty aaaaages ago.
Re the title: Writers without borders is a good title, but kind of lacks the formal quality of Claro's. I was thinking something like Writers of an Ungrateful/Flagless Nation or something along those lines.
Great blog btw, I'll stop by again.