Roussel and Rousseau are two names that one is scarcely used to associating. Nonetheless, their joined presence in my title should not lead one to anticipate some unexpected revelations on subterranean structural analogies, eventual thematic affinities, or even hypothetical stylistic connections discernible beyond the obvious phonetic heritage of these two writers. If such links exist (and I reserve the right to show, someday, that they do indeed exist, even if they have not often been perceived),' my object today is not to study them. These two great names figure here only as flag-bearers, as emblems, as mythical godfathers of two literary attitudes, or rather two ways, supposedly antagonistic, of going about the act of writing: One, which proposes relying heavily on procedures, such as those Roussel finally revealed, at least partially, in his posthumous work, Comment j'ai ecrit certains de mes livres.2 It is this process that opened up for him the way to create universes, characters, and adventures that were totally imaginary, like those that fill the chapters and pages of Locus solus or Impressions d'Afrique, to mention only his two best-known novels. The other way stresses the search for truth, and valorizes sincerity and authenticity in the use of the word about oneself. This is the way that leads directly to such enterprises as the Confessions; this is what has opened the way, as we all know, to an overabundant autobiographical production. If we accept this summary division of the literary field, it goes without saying that the Oulipians, by definition, must be situated largely on the side of Roussel. In fact, among all past writers to whom the Oulipians feel close,3 Raymond Roussel would doubtless rank first. L'&criture sous contrainte,writing under constraints-so dear to Oulipians, can be considered as an attempt to generalize and systematize diverse Rousselian procedures. Now it so happens that, as has been noted by such alert observers as Jacques Lecarme,4 Claude Burgelin,5 or Philippe Lejeune,6 some Oulipians (one could name Jacques Roubaud, Georges Perec and myself) do not hesitate, at least in some of their books, to look toward Rousseau, if not frankly to follow in his footsteps, by engaging in writing which, despite disclaimers, can be linked to autobiography. And to do this in spite of unleashing