Reviews 247 Braudeau, Michel. Place des Vosges. Paris: Seuil, 2017. ISBN 978-2-02-134295-6. Pp. 152. The beautiful, once-royal square invoked in Braudeau’s title points less to a classy neighborhood than to a crucible in time and place that contains many of the basic elements that made of the author a writer, and a prolific one at that. The era in question is the 1970s, a period deeply marked by May 68, but somewhat directionless in its aftermath. The author, clear-eyed and articulate, documents his own weaving path through the decade and among the famous inhabitants of the comparably famous place. Thus the young writer that he was experiments randomly with alcohol and the drugs of that decade’s choice; he travels, sometimes to exotic destinations, but without experiencing any profound epiphanies; and he dabbles in a number of light-hearted sexual relationships, grazing the possibility of genuine intimacy only a very few times. The descriptor of this text as a récit could not be more perfect: Braudeau recounts story upon story, as though paging through a photo album. His connections at the time to Jean Cayrol, chief literary consultant at Éditions du Seuil, gave him additional access to a constellation of the intellectuals of that age: Sollers, Barthes, Lacan, Sarduy. The cameo portraits he offers reveal a keen eye for character-revealing detail: William Burroughs had “un rire très court, un hoquet sarcastique, comme du gravier dans un arrosoir, et un haussement d’épaules [...] de tous les maîtres à dé-penser [...] il était l’un des plus mystérieusement sages”(48–49). The young writer also gets caught up in the aura of one extravagant and unpredictable Thomas, who he later learns is the son of Veit Harlan, creator of the infamous Juif Süss, anti-Semitic film of the 1940s. This lifemaiming accident of Thomas’s birth gives Braudeau insight into “sa personnalité si forte et malheureuse” (92). For this reader, the most touching admission of the book comes as the young writer fears that writing novels after the two great wars seems a naïve and potentially bootless enterprise, that the French language of novelists is archaic, useless, and forgettable. That Braudeau defied the literary Zeitgeist of the 1970s by writing more than twenty novels and that he made a career of defending literary language (not the least as editor-in-chief of the Nouvelle Revue Française) is a fitting postscript to Place. As for the book itself, situated in a pre-history of formative encounters with a vibrant generation of thinkers, it combines the uncertainty of an age with the sure writing of a master. Lawrence University (WI) Eilene Hoft-March Bruneau,André. Sourde rancœur. Québec: Apothéose, 2016. ISBN 978-2-89775-0329 . Pp. 406. Julien Poirier is a dedicated Montreal police investigator whose meticulous approach to crime-solving usually allows him to forget the frustrations that gnaw at ...
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