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Sylvie Meis
| Biography |
Official version: it is the university, Angers, mistress of conferences, entitled to direct research. Comparative literature? Between what and what? Such is the eternal question to which the answers vary (fortunately) with time. Let us think already of North: myth Viking with the social democrat myth, of Saga to the large-commercial fiction, it is necessary to try to disentangle what Scandinavian space endeavours to say and to mask since ten centuries. Let us think then of the South: Ugo Ojetti, in Illustrazione Italiana, comments on, in 1904, the last novel of Pirandello: "a little less than one month ago left in bookshop a novel Luigi Pirandello, rich person of adventures, soft philosophy and humour, whose title is Feu Mattia Pascal. He tells the history of a man who, pushed by despair, makes one day a running away. After having gained a fortune with the casino of Monte Carlo, it takes the train to return at his place and reads in a newspaper the advertisement of its suicide, or rather of that of a man that everyone takes for him: in its for interior, it makes its own funerals, takes the name of Adriano Meis and begins a new life joyeusement. The men are not bored any more food, but to look at itself living, and they seek by all the means, of the change of identity to the simulated suicide, to look at itself dying and ressusciter." There the diagram of radical restarting, it is registered, requirement of freedom, invention simultaneous. Let us think of the writing in what it affirms, in what it fights, in what it summons us to exist, to require, achieve. I.e., let us forget about what our made time. Let us not think of the men, think of the women. - personal Version: it is the large victim of the preceding one. An epistolary novel for so much and so much of pages of comments. |
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