“Mr. Macron, be a president of a literary “
Soon, a new president will install to the commands of France. I wish him very sincerely succeed because I wish us, all, violently, to succeed. His luck will be ours. Emmanuel Macron, a young (it’s not for long), smart (it’s hard), gifted (it helps), humanistic (it is grown), modest (it is easy to forget), ambitious (as long as it is for France and not for him), has a dynamic optimist that I hope to be contagious, and in which ones we need to we recognize. I would like to draw attention to what, today, seems trivial, but turns out, in retrospect, a symbolic and significant : the report of the president to the literature.
France is a country of literature. Literary, because he reads a lot and writes even more. Literary because it feeds The Fountain, Saint-Exupéry or of Marcel Aymé in the udder. Literary, because we traverse the teen years with Verlaine, Rimbaud, and Baudelaire. Literary because it is called the language of Molière. Literary because the nation radiates by these writers and thinkers in the world, from Voltaire to Lévi-Strauss. Literary because it mediates its authors, who are recognized, praised, celebrated in the streets, streets that often bear the name of novelists, poets, or playwrights. Literary because there are so many literary awards that cheese, or days in the year. Literary because everyone wants to write a book, even those who are content to sign it. Literary because there is the prevailing idea that the literature ennobles : to the difference of the media who write on the water, it prints on the paper, and grave in marble, defying the wear and tear of the years. Literary because its writers remain, even when their generation is gone. Literary as she likes to flirt with the lord.
There was a time where the presidents of the French Republic showed their link with the literature. Charles de Gaulle did not only read it, it proved to be a and its masterful. Georges Pompidou, professor of letters, he composed a Classic of Poetry which served as a breviary in my younger years. Valéry Giscard d’estaing cried out her love for guy de Maupassant and now sits at the French Academy. François Mitterrand is pork sausage so thin and greedy of books, increasing the number of meetings with the writers that he enjoyed, such as Michel Tournier.
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The man who reads reaches the universal
After them, the mould is broken. Not that Jacques Chirac, Nicolas Sarkozy, François Hollande, are devoid of culture, but we see how euphemistic that, in the literature, they have a curiosity point, not the passion. However, concomitantly, the presidential office has lost its authority and its prestige. Is there not a link ?
Love the literature, it is exceed cleavages, lobbies and camps. Love the literature, it is of interest to all the workers that describes Zola as the Princess of Cleves, both to the peasants of Sand that to the aristocrats in Proust, as much for the libertines of Laclos to the suffering souls of Bernanos, as the christianity of Bossuet that his critique by Diderot. Love the literature, it is not only to exceed the ideologies that have been frozen but crossing the borders : it is becoming Russian, reading Dostoyevsky, japanese with Mishima, Italian with Moravia, German Mann, egyptian with Mahfouz. The literature crosses even the boundaries of time since it has allowed me to live in Ve century bc J.-C. with Sophocles or renaissance with Shakespeare and Cervantes.
The man who reads reaches the universal. It embodies over a single group of interests, a social class, a floor of the company, no, it transcends definitions and has no longer anything foreign. He married the multiple in all its complexity. And what is a president, otherwise the one who marries the multiple in all its complexity ?
Emmanuel Macron feels that love of literature : he undertook studies of letters, philosophy and wished for, I am told, becoming a writer. His use of language, his taste for accuracy, his happiness to rely on the adjective well chosen, I see the potential president of the literary. Be without shame, Mr. Macron, with a bang. Being a president of a literary, you will be the President of all.