Hervé GuibertRecensioner

Trevi parla nell'introduzione di un dialogo fra questo testo (1981) con La camera chiara di Barthes (1980), dialogo che indubbiamente c'è per via di un rimando a R.B. nella parte finale del libro (e perché Guibert aveva letto e recensito il testo dell'altro). E siamo in effetti in luoghi letterari simili, in cui la fotografia non è affrontata nel suo specifico tecnico o con approfondimento di foto e autori (aspetto deludente per le mie aspettative) ma rispetto all'affettività e alle esperienze personali (soprattutto familiari) e alle pulsioni scopiche. In questo senso è in parte simile a La camera chiara, ma di minore spessore intellettuale (per forza, verrebbe sbrigativamente da dire, anche se di Guibert conosco solo le note biografiche che chiudono questo volume) e un po' fastidioso per la struttura spezzettata che rompe il ritmo e non approfondisce. Non privo comunque di alcune riflessioni generative.

> A L'AMI QUI NE M'A PAS SAUVÉ LA VIE, par Hervé Guibert. — "J'ai eu le sida pendant trois mois. Plus exactement, j'ai cru pendant trois mois que j'étais condamné par cette maladie mortelle qu'on appelle le sida. Or je ne me faisais pas d'idées, j'étais réellement atteint, le test qui s'était avéré positif en témoignait, ainsi que des analyses qui avaient démontré que mon sang amorçait un processus de faillite."
-- Une histoire d'horreur au temps des premiers traitements contre le sida, un regard et une auto-analyse d'un homme qui en est atteint.
--Alexis da Silva-Mathieu (ICI.Radio-Canada.ca)

Livre que je voulais lire depuis un bon bout de temps... en fait, depuis la controverse à laquelle a donné ce lieu sa publication en 1990.
Intéressant mais c'est loin d'être un grand livre.

Like many of his novels, Le mausolée des amants. Journal 1976 - 1991 by the French author Hervé Guibert is a fictionalized account, in this case in the form of a diary. A disturbing feature of the book is that there are no dated diary entries. The book consists of a large number of short and medium-length entries, as in a real diary, but without dates the structure of the text and time of events remains relatively obscure. While fictionalized, the work relates to reality, and elements and people from Guibert's life may realistically feature in the Journal. For instance, there are regular references to the Belgian author Eugène Savitzkaya, with whom Hervé Guibert corresponded for a more than 10-year period overlapping the course of the journal, viz. Lettres à Eugène. Correspondance 1977-1987. Le mausolée des amants. Journal 1976 - 1991 is a chronicle of the AIDS epidemic and Guibert's personal drama. It is difficult to decide to what extent the Journal is fictionalized, and how this affects the described events. Thus, the work is strongly lacking in personal appeal, and is as much a diary as a novellistic piece of prose.

Le mausolée des amants. Journal 1976 - 1991 appeared post-humously in 2001. The Journal starts in 1976, and ends in 1991, the year in which Guibert died of AIDS. The period 1976 - 1991 appears to be the period during which Guibert was active as an author, and in that sense the work pertains to the persona of the author as the author appears in his semi-autobiographical, or fictionalzed work. Guibert was diagnosed with HIV / AIDS in 1988.

Pourquoi ce livre?

J’ai découvert Hervé Guibert alors que j’étudiais au baccalauréat. Dans un cours portant sur la littérature et le sida, il fallait lire différentes romans, dont le sien : À l’ami qui ne m’a pas sauvé la vie. L’histoire de ce livre m’a profondément marquée, transportée, voire choquée, tant par son caractère autofictionnel, que pour la réalité qu’il dépeint : le sida, dans les années 1980, où les premiers traitements antiviraux n’étaient pas encore sur le marché et où la méconnaissance de cette maladie faisait qu’on associait le sida à « l’épidémie du cancer gay » (AIDES, 2007, p. 12). L’occasion de relire ce livre était idéale dans le cadre d’un cours portant sur l’acte et l’expérience de lecture, voilà pourquoi je l’ai choisi pour cette activité.

Un premier aspect qui m’a plu :

J’ai résolument aimé le caractère autofictionnel du récit où, à travers la narration au « je », le lecteur suit le quotidien d’Hervé Guibert, lui-même, après l’annonce de sa séropositivité. Cette incursion dans son intimité nous fait connaître de surcroît Muzil et Marine, qui sont respectivement Michel Foucault et Isabelle Adjani. L’intérêt ici, pour moi, a été de constater à quel point l’autofiction trempe dans la transgression, alors que le narrateur dévoile des informations délicates, que l’entendement commun aurait considéré privées, dont les révélations entourant le décès de Muzil-Michel Foucault.

Un second aspect qui m’a plu :

J’ai adoré l’écriture d’Hervé Guibert : une plume directe, franche, qui va droit dans le cœur par son caractère « visuel ». En effet, la description ou plutôt la transcription qu’il fait de son corps, de sa réalité et de sa souffrance grandissante, causée par la maladie, sont à ce point « racontées » par Guibert qu’elles se donnent à voir, tel une scène qui défile sous nos yeux. Il s’agit là d’un « règlement de compte » percutant envers son « ami ». Les thèmes abordés dans le roman n’étant pas légers, je suis ressortie de ma lecture secouée.

Aspect qui m’a moins plu :

À cette question, j’écrirai simplement que la franchise désarmante qui se dégage du récit est ce qui rend parfois difficile et dérangeante la lecture du roman. En effet, l’écriture de Guibert en est une de dénonciation et de trahison, si bien que par son abondance, elle donne beaucoup de détails sur des événements qui ne sont pas faciles à vivre – et à lire, tels que la mort de Muzil, la souffrance de son trépas et la réalité inhérente rattachée au quotidien d’un séropositif. C’est donc un roman que j’ai accueilli en petits fragments, quelques pages à la fois.

L’objet livre :

À l’ami qui ne m’a pas sauvé la vie est un roman, qui en format poche, contient 288 pages. Ses attributs sont plutôt standards par rapport à d’autres livres de la collection « Folio » de Gallimard : format de 18 cm, papier mince tirant entre le blanc et le jaune, encre noire bien marquée, etc. Il s’agit d’un format pratique pour la lecture, par sa petitesse.

Le livre contient exactement 100 chapitres, pour la plupart très courts, qui sont tous numérotés. Souvent, les titres de chapitres sont définis par des mots, pas par des numéros. L’auteur avait-il une visée particulière en procédant ainsi ? Voulait-il donner une symbolique précise à son livre ? Ces questions m’ont accompagnée durant ma lecture. Aussi, le caractère court des chapitres a maintenu mon attention, ma concentration.

Au plan paratextuel, c’est la page couverture qui m’a le plus interpelée. On y trouve là la seule image du roman, soit une photographie qui montre Hervé Guibert lui-même, capté en noir et blanc et cadré à partir des épaules. Il est couché, la tête sur le côté et son regard semble vide. Il n’arbore aucun sourire. Par l’angle de la photographie, on dirait qu’il s’est lui-même pris en photo, ce qui présuppose qu’il sera question d’un récit de soi, du moins, que l’auteur se mettra en scène. Le résumé apparaissant sur la quatrième de couverture tend à confirmer cette impression : on y lit là le tout premier paragraphe du roman, qui s’apparente à une déclaration.

Lettres à Eugène. Correspondance 1977-1987 is apparently the first volume of correspondence of the French author Hervé Guibert, who died in 1991. Guibert's novels consist of fictionalized autobiography, which shows his gruesome life and death suffering from AIDS. During his lifetime Guibert was friends with Michel Foucault, and if ever their correspondence would be published that should be an interesting volume.

Unfortunately, Lettres à Eugène. Correspondance 1977-1987 is not. This volume collects the correspondence between Guibert and the Belgian poet Eugène Savitzkaya. Both Guibert and Savitzkaya were born in 1955, and their correspondence begins in 1977, with Guibert's letter of admiration on the publication of Savitzkaya's short novel Mentir. Although this was his first novel, by 1977 Savitzkaya had already published six volumes of poetry. In 1977, Hervé Guibert published his first collection of prose, La Mort propagande (reviewed last year). This letter is followed by a thank-you letter, by Savitzkaya. A similar short courtesy exchange ensues four years later, in 1981, when Guibert sends Savitzkaya his fotonovela Suzanne et Louise (1980). Their correspondence does not really take off until after February 1982, when they met in Paris. The last letter is dated January 1987. In this year, the two authors did not need to exchange letters much, because they both stayed as resident writers at the Académie de France in Rome, popularly known as the Villa Médicis.

This means that the whole correspondence actually only covers a period of about four years. They may mark the beginning of the literary career of both authors, but these years are rather uneventful, and the correspondence reflects that. The authors were not lovers, so, although their friendship is warm, it is of no special interest. Hervé Guibert was not diagnosed with AIDS until the following year, 1988. Hence, the correspondence does not ponder on any significant part of the author's life.

Perhaps this is the reason, Guibert acceded to its integral publication in his literary testament in 1991, allowing publication of this correspondence, but forbidding the correspondence of all and any other letters with other correspondence. Lettres à Eugène. Correspondance 1977-1987 is published as an annotated edition, bringing together some 80 letters of both authors. However, on the whole it is rather uninteresting.½

This is the diary of the hospitalisation of Herve Guibert because of an eye infection. He died of AIDS in France at the age of 36 in 1991. It also includes Todd Meyer's experience with AIDS too. It seems as if hospitals are pretty much the same with the mix of good, kind people and those who are not so nice. Such a shame how too many of the staff treated him like an object, not a person who has hopes, dreams and feelings. It made me feel shame on their behalf. It is to be hoped that lessons have been learnt since those days. A poignant and thought provoking book.

La Mort propagande et autres textes de jeunesse brings together a a collection of the earliest prose works of the French author Hervé Guibert. Guibert is best known for his later works, which are taken to be autobiographical descriptions of his struggle with AIDS. In 1988, Guibert was one of the first authors to publicly admit to suffering from the disease and describing that in fictionalized autobiography.

La Mort propagande et autres textes de jeunesse consists of the earliest prose texts composed by Hervé Guibert, some of which were written when he was only 15 or 16 years old. Hence, "textes de jeunesse." The style of those earliest works, for instance "Thérèse et son crocodile ailé" is baroque, attempting to achieve an almost rococo or manieristic type of beauty, with many details and adjectives. Similarly, "Le prince blond" and "Isabella" are poetic fairy-tales in which a budding homosexuality starts shining through. Despite their virtuosity, they still very much read like precocious adolescent prose texts.

The key text of this publication is Hervé Guibert's earliest novel, La Mort propagande, which was originally written in 1975-1976, when the author was only 21 years old. This short novel is printed in two versions. In La Mort propagande, Guibert's style evolves to a curious mixture of beauty, mingled with grotesk cruelty. Beautiful descriptions are set off against or contrasted with descriptions which rouse disgust. These style experiments led to the development of Guibert's shockingly open and raucious style in his later works.

As important as Guibert's later works are for the description of AIDS in gay and mainstream literature, it is regretful that little attention is now paid to his early work. La Mort propagande et autres textes de jeunesse clearly marks an important stage in the development of gay literature of the middle to late Twentieth century, creating a connection of the raw style of American prose artists, such as William Burroughs to the up-coming genre of gay writing in Europe.

Fragments de vida compartida amb els pares. Original. Ben escrit. No m'ha atrapat. No m'ha fet sentir res més que el dia a dia, la normalitat.½

Voyage with Two Children: The first half is an explicit paedophile fantasy and the two boys on holiday in Morocco are quite young. The narrator is lent the diary of a man who loves children. The second half is autobiographical fiction and one of the boys, now older, is identified as Vincent, the fifteen-year-old who became Guibert’s lover.

The middle one of Guibert's three AIDS books, completed in August 1990, just over a year before he died. Like the others, it's pitched somewhere between novel and memoir. A lot of it is about the medical treatment he is undergoing and the changes that are happening to his body as the disease takes over, but the tone is unexpectedly cheerful. Guibert is concentrating on writing something beautiful, light, and elegant, trying to recapture, as he says, those qualities that he found on looking back at some of his own early manuscripts. I think it comes off: this is a book that doesn't let you forget the horror of what's happening to the narrator, but it also reminds you that illness and death are a part of our normal life too, and that we don't need to look for the worst in a bad situation all the time. There is room for style, beauty and humour there as well as anywhere else in life, and we shouldn't feel guilty or sacrilegious about looking for them. We Anglo-Saxons probably need a Frenchman to point that out to us!

Al amigo que no me salvó la vida forma parte, junto con su natural continuación, El protocolo compasivo , 1991 y la póstuma El hombre del sombrero rojo, 1992 de la denominada “Trilogía del SIDA”, las tres obras en las que Hervé Guibert relata su experiencia con la enfermedad. La acción de Al amigo que no me salvó la vida se sitúa a finales de los años 80 del pasado siglo; en enero de 1988 Guibert es diagnosticado como portador del VIH, y recoge los primeros meses de su vida con ese compañero letal, ese “mal del siglo” que acabará con su vida el 27 de diciembre de 1991.½

C'est tout bonnement la suite de A l'ami qui ne m'a pas sauvé la vie: exactement ce que j'avais dit que je ne ferais jamais. Un an et demi a séparé ces deux livres. Le temps de la renonciation à l'écriture, celui de l'expérience. On retrouve les mêmes personnages: Hervé Guibert, écrivain malade du sida, ses proches, la communauté des malades et de leurs soignants. Claudette Dumouchel, jeune médecin de vingt-huit ans, entre en scène. Une étrange relation va s'inventer à chaque examen entre cette femme très belle et le narrateur. Une relation peut-être proche de l'amour, on ne sait jamais. Un nouveau médicament, aussi, est apparu, très difficile à obtenir et incertain, encore au stade de l'expérimentation, le DDI. Aux États-Unis, il a déjà tué trois cents personnes qui se l'étaient procuré au marché noir et l'avaient utilisé sans connaître les doses, sans surveillance médicale, aveuglément, désespérément. En France, pour l'instant, on le délivre aux malades qui sont à la dernière extrémité, dans un protocole qualifié de « compassionnel » par les médecins. C'est ce nouveau médicament qui m'a permis de surmonter mon épuisement, et d'écrire. Si À l'ami qui ne m'a pas sauvé la vie racontait la prise de conscience de la maladie et son travail sur le corps et sur l'âme, Le protocole compassionnel raconte l'étonnement et la douleur, la rage et la tristesse d'un homme de trente-cinq ans dans lequel s'est greffé le corps d'un vieillard. Mais le bonheur d'une rémission fait une incursion dans le malheur.

Libro elegido por la cubierta, que es el cuadro que pintó Barceló del autor:
"Jo tenia un autèntic misteri per explicar, per tant una cosa incopsable: la fuga de la carn cap a la pintura, el dessagnament progressiu de l'àniima cap all llenç."
"És l'atzar i la desesperació de l'escriptura que han fixat així aquest episodi, fins que l'estripi i el torni a començar, per sempre, sempre el mateix, fins a la follia, fins al silenci."

Je me souviens d'Hervé Guibert sur le plateau du magazine littéraire télévisé "Apostrophe", émacié, le regard bleu, presque émerveillé d'être mis en lumière. Il parlait de lui, de son livre, de sa vie. Il était beau, jeune, combattant. C'était la première fois -je pense- qu'un livre parlait vraiment du SIDA.

Alienated Loner Hitches His Hopes, January 25, 2004
By interested_observer "interested_observer" (San Francisco, CA USA) - See all my reviews

L'homme blesse (The Wounded Man) is a melancholy French film showing the progression from emptiness to hopefulness to despair of a young man seeking to build a new life, but with the wrong boyfriend.
Henri Borowiecki (played by the best actor in the film, Jean-Hughes Anglade) coexists with his indifferent family in a city. On a trip to the train station to see his sister off somewhere, he comes into contact with dangerous, sexy Jean Lerman (played by Vittorio Mezzogiorno) in a men's room and makes himself noticed by a rich voyeur, Bosmans (played by Roland Bertin). Henri finds Jean irresistible and keeps going to the train station to seek him. After a bit of gamesmanship, Jean takes Henri home, where Jean's girlfriend Elisabeth (played by Lisa Kreuzer) also lives. Mutual mischief sets in. Jean sets a trap for Henri, who falls in and tries to recover by recasting the deal and his relationsip with Jean. Jean hides out. Cute hustlers tempt Henri. Voyeur Bosmans persuades Henri for a date, during which Jean shows up. After Jean stages some hot-looking action, Jean and Henri flee. Henri wants to get closer, but Jean plays one more bad trick on Henri. Bosmans arranges a non-standard meeting of Henri and Jean and promises not to peek. The movie goes to its climax.

The strength of the film is Anglade's ability to show the emotional arc of Henri's needy, desperate, but laconic character. Henri doesn't feel comfortable opening up to others. He talks some to Elisabeth and would like to be close to Jean. Unlike the stereotypical French movie, there is not much theorizing dialogue; Anglade has to use his expressions and body language to convey his meanings, and he does it well.

The other main characters do all right, especially Vittorio Mezzogiorno (Jean).

Henri and Jean provide excellent skin shots and erotic action, Henri going the distance.

There were some unexplained items, for which I invented my own stories. Since the characters reveal little backstory or talk about what happens when Henri is not present, the audience has to choose how to fill in the gaps. What was the nature of the Bosmans - Jean relationship? What motivates Jean's treatment of Henri? Why does Henri's family say nothing of his going to school or getting a job? Why does Henri have no friends his own age? Why won't he go to a men's club? Why was Bosmans seemingly so generous at the end? I'm not giving my answers.

The picture quality often seems grainy and not sharp, which are extra noticable in the many night or darkened room scenes. If there were a remastering, it might make a difference.

There are no chapter breaks on the DVD. The sole DVD extras are the trailers to six other movies.

I would have liked a commentary by Anglade and writer/director Patrice Chereau to fill in the gaps I mentioned above and also discuss the 1983 French take on bisexuality (Jean), gay relationships, public kissing, kids living at home, and the role of ID papers. If there were a trailer, making-of, behind the scenes, deleted scenes etc., it would be even better.

This is a good movie to watch and then exercise one's imagination on. Some relationships are better not started.