Lorsque Jimi Hendrix entame les premières notes de l'hymne national américain devant la foule de Woodstock, c'est le cri retentissant de toute une génération qu'il fait entendre. Une génération qui ressent un violent sentiment de révolte face à la guerre du Vietnam. Une génération pour laquelle la musique représente un refuge, un foyer. Dans une langue inspirée et mélodieuse, Lydie Salvayre retrace la vie du célèbre guitariste. Elle entonne un hymne captivant à la gloire d’un musicien de légende.
Lydie Salvayre is a French writer. Born in the south of France to Republican refugees from the Spanish Civil War, she went on to study medicine in Toulouse and continues to work as a practicing psychiatrist. She has been awarded both the Prix Hermes and the Prix Novembre for her work. She won the Prix Goncourt 2014 for her novel Pas Pleurer.
Look, Hymne is the kind of book that's way better than its first chapter lets on. The opening is clunky, with too much setup and too many names. Then Lydie Salvayre throws a stranded couple, a broken-down car, and one very bad decision together, and the whole thing catches fire. Not gonna lie, I read the last half in one sitting with cold takeout next to me. A couple of secondary characters never come into focus. For readers who'll give a book a fair shot. Skip it if you bail at the first sign of a slow start.
Honest take: Hymne is funnier than it has any right to be. Salvayre, Lydie finds jokes in places you wouldn't dare look, and somehow the heavy stuff still lands. Not every gag works, but the hit rate is high. Great for dark-humor fans, skip if you think grief and laughter shouldn't share a page.
La vie de Jimi Hendrix ainsi que son contexte social sont tout à fait captivants mais je n'ai pas du tout adhéré au style de l'auteure, ce qui a considérablement gâché ma lecture.