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Giton
C’était un dimanche à cinq heures de l’après-midi, quelqu’un m’avait donné rendez-vous et n’était pas venu.
Je marchais d’une façon irrésistible.
Le jardin du Luxembourg était désert.
L’angoisse cosmique du dimanche après-midi avait anéanti les chiens et les hommes, même les abeilles s’enfonçaient. C’est alors que je l’ai vu sortir des pissotières, tel le faon sortant des taillis. Il boutonnait sa braguette d’arlequin. Il a fait le tour de la pelouse et on s’est rencontrés un peu plus loin, dans les allées scientifiques du jardin, là où toutes les fleurs portent un nom.
J’ai vingt ans, dit-il comme à la douane.
Je marchais d’une façon irrésistible.
Le jardin du Luxembourg était désert.
L’angoisse cosmique du dimanche après-midi avait anéanti les chiens et les hommes, même les abeilles s’enfonçaient. C’est alors que je l’ai vu sortir des pissotières, tel le faon sortant des taillis. Il boutonnait sa braguette d’arlequin. Il a fait le tour de la pelouse et on s’est rencontrés un peu plus loin, dans les allées scientifiques du jardin, là où toutes les fleurs portent un nom.
J’ai vingt ans, dit-il comme à la douane.
90 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published February 14, 1990
11 people want to read
About the author
Christophe Donner
52 books3 followersChristophe Donner ou Chris Donner, né Christophe Quiniou à Paris le 4 juillet 1956, est un écrivain, journaliste, critique littéraire et cinéaste français.
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
August 2, 2022
Giton: Récit
"Tu as une sourire à deux vitesses" (11)
"You have a two-speed smile"
The beginning of the récit is very evocative, a rencontre and cruising in le jardin de Luxembourg; the atmosphere and emotions are there on the page, and if you've been there you feel like you're back.
"Il est couché sur mon lit, tout habillé. Je ne me souviens plus de la musique. Je soulève mon pull une fraction de seconde, juste pour lui montrer que je suis beau, juste le temps d'impressionner la photo de son visage sur la peau de mon ventre. Et je dis : Sortons. Pas se vautrer tout de suite." (13)
"He is laying on my bed, all clothed. I no longer remember the music. I pull up my sweater a fraction of a second, just enough to show him I'm beautiful, just enough time to develop the photo of his face on the skin of my core. And I say: Let's leave. No need to lay just yet."
The beginning of the book and the two characters relationship is really charming and wistful, though what it turns into is less so.
The prose is poetic, there are good quotes throughout, and the emotions are palpable, but when it begins, the obsession of the Artist isn't incredible or compelling. However, the specter of Sida haunts the récit, and although it's never mentioned by name, acknowledging it's shadow over the events of the book and the actions, thoughts, and condition of Sylvain (revealed obliquely on p. 86) make the book incredibly compelling.
I'd recommend this book, though unfortunately it's long out of print and there's no ebook or English translation. I found out about this book from the movie Plaire, aimer et courir vite (Eng: Sorry Angel, 2018), where it makes a brief cameo, and reading this book gives a little new insight into that movie.
P.S. This book is the third part of a triptych featuring the main character. I haven't read the first two, but this one stands alone just fine.
"Tu as une sourire à deux vitesses" (11)
"You have a two-speed smile"
The beginning of the récit is very evocative, a rencontre and cruising in le jardin de Luxembourg; the atmosphere and emotions are there on the page, and if you've been there you feel like you're back.
"Il est couché sur mon lit, tout habillé. Je ne me souviens plus de la musique. Je soulève mon pull une fraction de seconde, juste pour lui montrer que je suis beau, juste le temps d'impressionner la photo de son visage sur la peau de mon ventre. Et je dis : Sortons. Pas se vautrer tout de suite." (13)
"He is laying on my bed, all clothed. I no longer remember the music. I pull up my sweater a fraction of a second, just enough to show him I'm beautiful, just enough time to develop the photo of his face on the skin of my core. And I say: Let's leave. No need to lay just yet."
The beginning of the book and the two characters relationship is really charming and wistful, though what it turns into is less so.
The prose is poetic, there are good quotes throughout, and the emotions are palpable, but when it begins, the obsession of the Artist isn't incredible or compelling. However, the specter of Sida haunts the récit, and although it's never mentioned by name, acknowledging it's shadow over the events of the book and the actions, thoughts, and condition of Sylvain (revealed obliquely on p. 86) make the book incredibly compelling.
I'd recommend this book, though unfortunately it's long out of print and there's no ebook or English translation. I found out about this book from the movie Plaire, aimer et courir vite (Eng: Sorry Angel, 2018), where it makes a brief cameo, and reading this book gives a little new insight into that movie.
P.S. This book is the third part of a triptych featuring the main character. I haven't read the first two, but this one stands alone just fine.
Displaying 1 of 1 review