Reporting.
Fata Morgana| N° d'inventaire | 23660 |
| Format | 14 x 22 |
| Détails | 240 p., paperback. |
| Publication | Saint-Clement-de-Rivière, 2020 |
| Etat | Nine |
| ISBN | 9782377920600 |
People are hardly describable, graspable, except by the cloak of words in which they wrap themselves, and which is made of the same fabric as ours. Let us call consciousness—the deepest being—Joseph. Potiphar (his consciousness, mine, yours) can feel him, through the cloak, until he fills himself with imaginary perceptions, and ruins the cloak: Joseph has disappeared into the fabric of words. Potiphar sighs that she loved him, and that all men are like that; arms full, heart full, mind full, and in the end, what? Words. And more words to explain dreams!
Even in this place called Veules-les-Roses, we will never know what the roses want.
Henri Thomas was born in 1912. Close to Gide and the NRF group, he formed strong literary friendships early on. He published his first novel, The Coal Bucket, in 1940, then the following year his first collection of poetry, Blind Work. After a few years in London, John Perkins, winner of the Prix Médicis in 1960, then The Promontory, winner of the Prix Femina in 1961, brought him a certain notoriety. The year 1965 marked the beginning of a dark period. Widowed, he published only a few meager booklets before returning to intense creative activity in 1985.
With almost uninterrupted frequency, Henri Thomas published forty-two Reportages in the NRF between April 1978 and March 1982. These notebook pages, never before collected in a volume, combine all the recurring feelings in Thomas's work: between the wonder of a presence in the world and the anxiety of inhabiting an ordinary existence. Where reportage rhymes with vagrancy, where ellipses and ruptures offer the provisional and the ephemeral the assurance of lasting things, Henri Thomas asserts the sovereign right of a capricious invention.
People are hardly describable, graspable, except by the cloak of words in which they wrap themselves, and which is made of the same fabric as ours. Let us call consciousness—the deepest being—Joseph. Potiphar (his consciousness, mine, yours) can feel him, through the cloak, until he fills himself with imaginary perceptions, and ruins the cloak: Joseph has disappeared into the fabric of words. Potiphar sighs that she loved him, and that all men are like that; arms full, heart full, mind full, and in the end, what? Words. And more words to explain dreams!
Even in this place called Veules-les-Roses, we will never know what the roses want.
Henri Thomas was born in 1912. Close to Gide and the NRF group, he formed strong literary friendships early on. He published his first novel, The Coal Bucket, in 1940, then the following year his first collection of poetry, Blind Work. After a few years in London, John Perkins, winner of the Prix Médicis in 1960, then The Promontory, winner of the Prix Femina in 1961, brought him a certain notoriety. The year 1965 marked the beginning of a dark period. Widowed, he published only a few meager booklets before returning to intense creative activity in 1985.
With almost uninterrupted frequency, Henri Thomas published forty-two Reportages in the NRF between April 1978 and March 1982. These notebook pages, never before collected in a volume, combine all the recurring feelings in Thomas's work: between the wonder of a presence in the world and the anxiety of inhabiting an ordinary existence. Where reportage rhymes with vagrancy, where ellipses and ruptures offer the provisional and the ephemeral the assurance of lasting things, Henri Thomas asserts the sovereign right of a capricious invention.