Pascal Quignard or the "pulverized" biography

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Life is not a biography from Pascal Quignard, Galileo, 184 p., 22 €

Thefor life is not a biography. The title of this book is a saying, a maxim. In spite of its enigmatic perfume, it highlights one of the vanishing points of Pascal Quignard's work. This volume is a kind of extension, or parenthesis, in the margin of the majestic suite of volumes of Last Kingdom (1).

Classically, the biographer is the one who claims to express, to enclose life – his own, for the autobiography – in a book, a story, a story, with a beginning and an end. The key to this life, he brandishes it like a trophy, sometimes that of his own glory.

"Human life does not" means "not"

He is wrong. Very heavily, grotesquely, tragically, says Quignard, and that in many ways. "So strange constructions as biographies. True tales. Unbearable legends desynchronized, blocking the view, incredible. " So, a task is needed, a moral: "One must always be at the beginning of one's life. Such is the inchoativity of life. Always we must add to be born again to be born unachievable … "

Philosopher, he adds: "The meaning of a human life is never inner. Because human life does not "mean". Or she imagines herself, or she dreams. She constantly suffers, starves, needs, desires, desires, deceives, deceives herself. " The underline of the first statement is voluntary – a saying again.

"Mythology is a quest for meaning and wisdom"

From this moment, a new dimension is introduced, which is the other subject of the book: the dream, a dream "Free of thought", or comparable to "A thought that does not know itself thinking". Freud's dream science is an illusion, as is all "The morality that has derived from psychoanalysis". And with this morality, "The words of language: these amazing sound ghosts inside the dead coral of each language".

"At every dawn you have to rebuild your vision and your life"

Surprising, dense and beautiful pages that make dreams, or nightmares, the reasons for a twilight and melancholy vision of the world. But also strangely dynamic. At Quignard, melancholy is not a depression, nor a despair. In the twilight, a light appears: "The source of each day is chaos mixed with shadows. A moving sand. A whirlpool where the antenatal water mixes again. It turns out that at each dawn you have to reconstruct your view and your life and the clock, the chronicle, the place, the language, the word, the name, the world. "

At the bend of a page, Pascal Quignard writes: "The question is the answer. " This affirmation could be inscribed on the pediment of all his work. Like a wise man, or like a madman, Quignard thinks incessantly, pen in hand, starting from paradoxes and aporias, of an inexhaustible fruitfulness.

At the time when one confided one's soul

Built in the midst of a virgin and timeless nature, the invisible hermitage he inhabits houses a huge virtual library in which he comes to draw. Perhaps he dreams of a synthesis of all these knowledge, reasonings, fictions, poems and legends? While waiting for this hypothetical totalization, he continues to wander. And we, readers, following him, listening to his preaching, trying to follow the sinuous line of an oceanic reverie from which a thought is born, and even more poetic.

(tagsToTranslate) notebook books and ideas (t) pulverized (t) biography (t) Quignard (t) Pascal

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