A boutique is a special place, the most various people come in and come out. Whatever its dimensions, its installation, or the place it’s located, there’s a common feature : an opened door on the road.
Theater & Poetry represent 3% of the book market turnover in France.
Many students have to buy poetry & theater for school, therefore I can imagine that poetry alone embodies (can I say that?) 1% of all bought books in France. It’s bigger than I thought, haha.
A big part of this, consequently, comes from French old masters studied in classrooms : Rimbaud, Verlaine, Appolinaire, Hugo.
So I can easily say that 0.1% of the books are bought here by poetry lovers…
Some conversations between two persons raise instantly a common roof.
A few days ago a lady asked me about a French poet totally unknown to me : Marcel Bealu.
To work in a bookstore is a bit frustrating : you can’t have all existing books (unless you own a 8.900 floors skyscraper) right? Thus we booksellers often order books, and explain to people that we would LOVE to have this rare poetry book, waiting for its customer for 17 years in a corner…
We know that people are aware we didn’t read all the books and can’t have all of them. But there’s this little pinch here, though.
Bealu’s style : French, imaginative, fantastic, grim, cerebral. “Dreamlike prose”, said the lady.
“Oh, a bit like Reverdy, then”, I replied.
And instantly, her answer, in a smile : “Yesssss!”.
Her gaze changed in a second, “Exactly!”. The roof was raised…
I love Reverdy’s poetry. It’s… unique, and here, Reverdy become a key, a spark.
This roof is a very special thing. It’s not about “at least someone who gets you”, not that early. It’s this process, a key word -> the roof.
“We’re the same family on this topic, right?”
It can be done with two 8 years old kids with Star Wars, that’s normal. But it’s something when you get this roof with a microscopic topic, Bealu’s poetry or parturition in the Middle Age, Kurdish architecture, Jünger’s essays or mantis macro photography.
“Heyyyy you know this!?”
“Et soudain, tandis que reprenait tout près, fragile et sonore à la fois, l’étrange suite de sons, je compris que cette araignée exprimait, par son chant presque humain, sa joie d’insecte.
Alors, dans la solitude nous entourant, il ne me parut pas ridicule de lui adresser la parole.
-Sais-tu qu’il manque peu de chose à ton chant pour que je m’en éprenne tout à fait ? lui dis-je mi-sérieux mi-badin. Avec une telle voix, ta place est dans le monde.
-Tire-moi d’abord d’ici, me répondit-elle, et tu verras comme je saurai te plaire.”
The water spider
“And suddenly, as the strange line of sounds started again, nearby, fragile and sonorous at the same time, I understood that this spider expressed, with this almost human chant, her insect’s joy.
Then, in the solitude surrounding us, it seemed to me that it was not ridiculous to adress her.
– Do you know that hardly anything lacks to your chant to be taken with? I said to her, half-serious half-playful. With such a voice, your place is in the world.
– Get me out of here first, she answered, and you’ll see how I’ll be able to appeal to you.”
Thanks for reading!