In “Post-modernist fiction” Brian McHale suggests the dominant mode of questioning is epistemological in modernist fiction, and ontological in post-modernist fiction. Jules Romain’s book “Les Copains” fits into what I would call a genre, the hoax, which I associate in particular with Umberto Ecco (Baudolino, Foucault’s Pendulum) and Borges (Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius). Although it includes none of the reversions between fact and fiction which those authors are so fond of, I wonder if there is not within the avant-garde tradition of performative writing a category to be explored in relation to post-modernism. We can remember in that regard the elaborate (if cruel) hoax produced by Jules Romain around Jean-Pierre Brisset, a “fou littéraire” whom he celebrated as the “prince of thinkers,” opening the way with his prank to a tradition very much alive in dadaism (Arthur Cravan), surrealism (the Barres trial) and pataphysics (the Tarnac nine?) ;
“Les copains” is not a hoax stricto sensu, but the narration of one, or of a series of them. We follow seven students in their affectionate goliardry, born out of a boozy night in a Parisian tavern: in his inebriated wanderings in the building, one of them, Bénin, came across a map of France and its departments. Upon returning to his table in view of continuing his libations, he reveals his experience, and starts inveighing against two small, evil and beady eyes that were staring at him from the center of the map: the rural towns of Issoire and Ambert. Moved maybe by his oratory, everyone rally in the face of the enemy, and decide to visit a savoury vengeance on the Puy de Dome.
Follows a number of eccentric and sometimes incoherent adventures, which eventually lead our psychogeographers in the making to a reunion behind the enemy lines, on the eve of their acts of terror. I will leave for the reader the pleasure to discover their unruly sense of humour, which the french would call “potache,” saying only it involves a lot of impersonation and ridiculing of state and bourgeois institutions, without much of a political project behind it.
Romains is remembered, among other feats, for his creation of “unanimism” along with Ford Maddox Ford, and it is striking in that particular novel: there is scant internal focus on the character, and most of the savoury psychological observations are actually concerned with friendship, group dynamics, with the shared mindset of a community.
For example: we follow the roadtrip of two students in the French country-side, riding side by side their bycicles on an empty road. Within the tight-knit pack of their friends, arise particular affinities, and the friendship of Bénin and Broudier is given metaphysical significance:
“Bénin, when on his own and immobile, compare himself to a kind of stake, of insignificant thickness, jabbed at the center of the space. The world reigns around him with so much continuity and importance, that Bénin is not sure to occupy his place at all.
Bénin alone, in movement, never cease to encounter the world. It’s a perpetual debate.
Bénin and Broudier in movement outline and possess an undisputed space. And they can, when it pleases them, consider the world as a dingy suburb.” (Chapter 3)
Friendship, a bit like national belonging in some readings, becomes a bulwark in the face of existential fear, and maybe even in the face of the modern experience of dissolution:
“No one knows what is friendship. People have only talked hogwash about this. When on my own, I never reach any certitude like I have today. I fear death. All my courage against the world only results in a challenge. But for the time being I am in peace. The two of us, as we are now, on bicycle, on this road, under this sun, with this soul, can justify it all, can console me of anything. Were it all there is in my life, I would not deem it aimless, nor even perishable.” (Ch 3)
You would be mistaken to imagine from those two quotes the book is a heavy reading: far from it! Those kinds of reflections are actually very sparsely sprinkled onto a fast moving plot, which might not be the most ambitious but is certainly both entertaining and at time extremely funny. I read the book in maybe three sittings, and I think it is a worthy investment of time for anyone interested in that period, inasmuch as it reflects a quirky but interesting aspect of literary culture (hoaxes) and that it introduces the concepts of an important movement (unanimism).