This is the history of the love of a grand father, on the shore of the Lac de Constance à 20 ans with a young woman in the country. It is also available to you from all over the world in a book that passes all the way to Algeria. Simplement parce que c'est là-bas que j'en avais entendu parler d'anciens ouvriers de la ferme dont s'était occupé mon grand-père jusqu'à l'indépendance. Eux available reçu ce récit avant 1962 et ils m'ont raconté que souvent ce grand-père parlait de l'Allemande du lac de Constance, ils me l'ont raconté en 2010. Donc il y avait une sorte de façon, l'amour avait une façon de Survivre autant comme ça et de continuer d'exister très fort, y compris dans les récits de gens qui n'avaient jamais connu this femme. And I'm suis dit, ce que j'ignorais à ce moment-là, alors même que je l'avais mise dans ce livre, j'ignorais qu'un enfant était né de this histoire. Et donc c'était comme d'avoir d'avoir idéalisé quelque chose, d'en avoir vu qu'un aspect, qu'un pan, et d'avoir manqué totalement une autre réalité qui donnait à cet amour aussi une autre gravity en fait, quelque chose, et des conséquences gigantesques sur des generations en fait, puisqu'il y avait cet enfant.
Librairie Mollat: Sylvain Prudhomme, L'enfant dans le taxi, Youtube, 2023.
It's the love story of a grandfather who, at the age of 20, met a young German woman on Lake Constance. I had mentioned her very briefly in a book that was set entirely in Algeria. Simply because I had heard about it from former farm laborers there, whom my grandfather had cared for until independence. They had heard this story before 1962 and told me that this grandfather often spoke of the German woman from Lake Constance. They told me this in 2010. So there was a way that love could survive and continue, even in the stories of people who had never met this woman. And I told myself, something I didn't know at the time, even though I had included it in the book, I didn't know that a child had resulted from this story. And so it was as if I had idealized something, seen only one aspect, one fragment, and completely overlooked another reality that actually gave this love a different weight, something that truly had gigantic consequences for generations, because of this child.
Content
In a whisper
the novel L'enfant dans le taxi by Sylvain Prudhomme (Minuit, 2023, German edition: The boy in the taxi(Translated from the French by Claudia Kalscheuer, Unionsverlag, July 2025) is an exploration of the shadows of Franco-German history, particularly the post-war period and its impact on individual destinies and family relationships. The work interweaves the narrator's personal search for a suppressed truth with the complex history of the French occupation of Germany—and the possibility of reconciliation. The text reinterprets the apparent passivity of familial silence (“chape de silence”) as an active, performative practice of collective repression that, for decades, denies M's existence in order to maintain familial cohesion. This “omertà” is thus exposed as a conscious or unconscious means of perpetuating an idealized family narrative, the fragility of which is revealed through the narrator's research.
The novel begins immediately after the Second World War, a time when the lines between victors and vanquished, French and Germans, were still sharply drawn. Malusci, a French soldier in the 8th Regiment of Chasseurs d'Afrique, was among the occupying forces who crossed the Rhine in early 1945 and advanced as far as Lake Constance. During this period, described as "fabulously unoccupied" weeks of occupation, a relationship developed between Malusci and a German woman named Liselotte H. This union resulted in a child, MH, whose existence would become a family secret for decades. This "forbidden love" and its unintended consequences form the central nexus of the historical entanglement in the novel, which spans generations and painfully brings the past into the present.
The motif of travel, or rather movement, runs like a structural thread through the book. The author describes travel as a means of confronting difficult truths, finding new equilibria, and encountering oneself. The journey is not an escape, but an active engagement with challenges and transformation. Lake Constance itself becomes a central symbol: it is not only the geographical location of M.'s conception, but also a place of mystery, hidden depths, and lingering memories.
Les brumes qui tantôt les prenaient tantôt se retiraient d'eux, comme fluait et refluait la mémoire. Pays des fantômes, des souvenirs, des secrets.
Sylvain Prudhomme, L'enfant dans le taxi, POL, 2023.
The fog, which repeatedly enveloped them and then receded, was like the ebb and flow of memory. A land of ghosts, of memories, of secrets.
The lake represents the border that must be crossed to reach the truth. The taxi in which the German son later travels to meet the French father, Malusci, is a similarly powerful metaphor for M's desperate yet naive hope for connection. It symbolizes a sudden, unconventional journey into the past, driven by personal urgency.
Communication is a central axis in the novel, often blocked by silence, secrets, and misunderstandings, but also enabling moments of profound connection: M.'s existence is referred to as "l'affaire," mentioned only "in whispers" after a "too boisterous Christmas dinner." This silence is a collective "non-decision," a "miserable accumulation of non-decisions." The family adheres to the "eternal imperative of 'not making waves'" in order to maintain "peace." This silence is described as a "crime," while speaking is the actual "crime" in the "family order." Franz breaks the silence at Malusci's funeral, driven by the "frustration of having remained silent once again." Louis relays to Simons the detailed account of M.'s failed visit, having himself suffered under the "family order." These characters act as catalysts for the revelation.
Malusci's refusal to receive his son when the latter travels to France by taxi at the age of 15 represents the culmination of his emotional rejection. The language barrier between M. (German) and Malusci (French), which Franz must overcome during their belated meeting, symbolizes the deeper divide between them and their respective nations. Simon, himself a writer, attempts to fill the gaps in the family history and, through his research and writing, to bring order to the chaotic memories. The book itself becomes a "book for him" ("un livre vers lui"), a gesture of approaching M. The passing on of stories, such as Bahi's account of Liselotte, reveals the tenacious nature of memory.
Figure inventory
The characters in the novel are closely linked to the historical events and embody different facets of Franco-German relations after the war:
Malusci is the French soldier and later patriarch who denies his youthful indiscretion in Germany. He represents the side of repression and the rigid adherence to a constructed family identity that allows no mistakes or "shame." His inability to confront his German son is indicative of the difficulties postwar society faced in coming to terms with complex reality.
Liselotte H., the German woman, Ms. Malusci's mother, whose relationship with Malusci reflects a "demesure of desire" that was "stronger than all the forbidden." She symbolizes the often forgotten or taboo female experience during the occupation, who had to live with shame, condemnation, and the difficult consequences of such a relationship. Her ability to build a "fulfilling life" despite the circumstances, as her obituary suggests, testifies to her resilience.
The initial encounter between Malusci and Liselotte is a moment of unbridled desire and human connection that defies social conventions and the role of occupier/occupied, but with far-reaching, hidden consequences.
Je sais que Malusci et cette femme s'aimèrent, mot je ne peux dire exactement quelle valeur il faut lui donner ici, mais qui dans all les cas convient, puisque s'aimer cela peut être mille choses, même coucher simplement dans une grange, sans autre transport ni Tendresse que la fulgurance d'un désir éphémère, theéclair d'un plaisir suraigu, not all indique que Malusci et this femme gardèrent longtemps the souvenir. Je sais que de ce plaisir naquit un enfant, qui vit toujours, là-bas, près du lac. Et que ce livre est comme un livre vers lui.
Sylvain Prudhomme, L'enfant dans le taxi, POL, 2023.
I know that Malusci and this woman loved each other, though I can't say exactly what that word means here, but it certainly fits, because loving each other can mean a thousand things, even simply sleeping in a barn, with no other sensation than the intensity of a fleeting desire, the flash of an overwhelming lust, which Malusci and this woman seem to have remembered for a long time. I know that a child came from this lust, who still lives there, near the lake. And that this book is like a book for him.
The narrator emphasizes the multifaceted meaning of "love" in this context. It is not a conventional romance, but a fleeting, intense moment of desire ("fulgurance d'un désir éphémère") in a chaotic time. The scene in the barn is an embodiment of this primary, instinctive drive ("désir plus fort que tous les interdits") that transcends political and social divides. Liselotte is portrayed as a self-assured, "free" woman who makes her own decision to engage with the French soldier, despite fearing the condemnation of her friends, who call her a "whore." This highlights the difficult situation of German women during the occupation, who were often caught between personal survival, desire, and social ostracism.
MH, the "German son" of Malusci and Liselotte, is the embodiment of mystery and unwanted historical truth. His very existence is a thorn in the side of the French family's conscience. His profession as an antiques dealer is metaphorically significant: he surrounds himself with "délaissés" (abandoned objects), rescuing their value and their stories. This reflects his own role as an "abandoned" son, preserving hidden histories.
Simon, as narrator and Malusci's grandson, is the true protagonist of the search for clues. He is the one who uncovers the family secret and grapples with the unresolved questions of the past. His personal crisis (separation from A.) and his role as a writer who wants to "make the world habitable" parallel his search for truth and healing. He is the "brother" of the "boiteux" (the lame one), who dreams of a different world.
The other characters also have roles in dealing with the unspoken history:
Imma is Malusci's wife and Simon's grandmother. She is the chief guardian of the secret, forbidding any mention of M and insisting that Malusci's life not be "tainted." Her refusal to shed light on the past is an expression of the postwar need for stability and repression, often at the expense of the truth.
Franz is Julie's husband and Simon's step-uncle; he is also the one who reveals the secret to Simon. Franz himself is an "M.", the child of a German mother and an Allied father (a New Zealand RAF pilot). His own identity as a "bâtard" (bastard) makes him an ally of M. and a bridge between generations and cultures. He is a "truth-teller" who breaks the family's code of silence.
Louis is Imma's younger brother and Simon's great-uncle. He is another Keeper of the Truth who took M. in during his failed visit in 1962 and offered him an "almost ordinary family." Louis, who himself suffered under the "family order," supports Simon's search for the truth and shares his memories with him.
Finally, Bahi, an Algerian worker on Malusci's farm in Oran, is the original source of Simon's knowledge about "the German woman from Lake Constance." As an outsider to the French family, Bahi is an important keeper of the memory of Malusci's forbidden love and demonstrates how memories can be preserved across vast distances and cultures.
revelations
Prudhomme explains in the aforementioned interview that the book is also very personal, as it is based on a family event but is simultaneously fictionalized. It was important to him that the narrator, Simon, is not just a neutral investigator, but is himself struggling with a recent separation and a new kind of loneliness. This creates a parallel and empathy between Simon and the hidden child who grew up without a father. Thus, the investigation becomes a search for connection, balance, and healing, with Simon attempting to both unravel his family's secret and understand and process his own life situation.
The narrator, Simon, questions the absolute accessibility of historical truth by explicitly staging his own narrative as a "fantasy" and "dream" ("mon imagination m'y reconduit, le fantasme, la rêve") of the past. This underscores that the "revelation" does not lead to an objective reality, but rather to a continuous construction of truth shaped by desires and emotions, which constantly reimagines the missing pieces of a "primitive scene."
The revelation and investigation surrounding the figure of M. unfolds in several stages for the narrator, Simon. Initially, during his grandfather Malusci's funeral, Simon learns from Franz, his aunt Julie's husband, of the existence of a German son of Malusci named M., who was born on Lake Constance during Malusci's time as an occupying soldier and still lives there. This first, shocking revelation makes Simon realize that ten years earlier he had heard from an old Algerian laborer named Bahi about the "German woman from Lake Constance" whom Malusci had loved, though Bahi never mentioned a child. Motivated by this new information, Simon begins searching for M. online, finding a supposed address and a photograph of a retired bus driver whom he believes to be M. When Simon asks his grandmother Imma for permission to visit M., she vehemently and angrily forbids him, as she wants the past buried. Despite the prohibition, Simon travels with his sons to Lake Constance, only to discover that he was mistaken about the supposed M. and that this man had never heard of Malusci.
The truth only comes to light when Simon receives a letter from his great-uncle Louis, Imma's younger brother. Louis confirms M's existence, corrects Simon's mistake regarding the surname from MU to MH, and reveals M's true profession as an antiques dealer. Louis recounts in detail M's visit to Malusci in 1962, when, at the age of 15, M arrived by taxi from Germany, was turned away by Malusci, and subsequently stayed with Louis and Jacqueline for three days before being sent back. Later, M's mother, Liselotte H., sent letters indicating that M later joined the French Foreign Legion, deserted, and was subsequently banned from entering France for forty years. Finally, Franz reveals that he too is an "M," the child of an Allied soldier and a German mother, and shares that M was able to visit Malusci one last time shortly before his death, with Franz acting as his translator. M. declined to attend Malusci's funeral, but sent a rose as a farewell gift. These extensive revelations reinforced Simon's decision to visit M. in person.
The patriarch's funeral becomes a catalyst for the revelation of a deeply buried family secret, symbolizing the decades-long repression of Franco-German history within the family.
You can revoir the scene with everything that is available to you from the inattentive, d'ahurissant: mornings and the end of the extrémité d'une pelote que la mèche d'une bombe que l'homme en question – ce fameux Franz – m'avait à l'improviste mise entre les mains, cela sans prévenir, sans que ni moi ni personne ait rien vu venir, quelques mots soufflés comme en douce, dans la plus parfaite discrétion vis-à-vis des dizaines d'autres convives qui n'avaient rien deviné, rien entendu de nos deux ou three minutes de conversation, the maison entière absorbée dans read Effusions de l'après-cérémonie, Imma encore un peu hagarde là-bas dans le coin de canapé où ses enfants l'avaient fait asseoir, entourée d'attentions, de gentillesse, de mots de récomfort qu'elle ne semblait plus entendre, dépassée par le bruit alentour, as shown, video by the emotion of the derniers every day that is retombait.
Sylvain Prudhomme, L'enfant dans le taxi, POL, 2023.
I could see the scene again before me with all its unexpected and astonishing details: less the end of a ball of yarn than the fuse of a bomb, which the man in question – this famous Franz – had unexpectedly pressed into my hand, without warning, without me or anyone seeing anything coming, with a few quietly whispered words, in complete discretion from the dozens of other guests who suspected nothing, who hadn't heard anything of our two- or three-minute conversation, while the whole house was engrossed in the celebrations after the ceremony. Imma was still sitting somewhat dazed in the corner of the sofa where her children had placed her, surrounded by attention, kindness, and comforting words that she no longer seemed to hear, overwhelmed by the noise around her, as if exhausted, drained by the emotional turmoil of the last few days, which was finally subsiding.
Franz's revelation is described as "the fuse of a bomb" placed in Simon's hands. This illustrates the explosive nature of the secret and its ability to shatter the carefully constructed facade of the family. The funeral is a moment of collective farewell and longed-for "peace," which, however, is exposed as "l'autre nom du déni" (the other name of denial). Imma's confused state ("hagarde") and her subsequent refusal to speak about M. demonstrate the psychological burden of the secret and the desire to "let the past rest" so as not to "taint" Malusci's life. The scene is a microcosm of the wider societal repression of postwar events.
Simon's initial research and the return of the memory of "the German woman from Lake Constance" through Bahi's testimony reveal the fragmented and unexpected nature of historical truth as it manifests itself across transnational and social boundaries.
Alors d'un coup ça m'est revenu. D'un coup j'ai repensé à l'Allemande du lac de Constance. D'un coup j'ai fait le lien entre elle et M. Je me suis revu dix ans plus tôt en train d'écouter l'ancien ouvrier Algérien qui le premier m'avait parlé de this femme, m'avait dit combien mon grand-père l'avait aimée, m'avait raconté avec quels trémolos dans la voix il continuait de l'évoquer chaque fois, des années et des années après la fin de la guerre, my marié depuis longtemps avec Imma, me me installé depuis quinze ons de l'autre côté de la Méditerranée, in this ferme d'Oranie où se déroulait désormais leur paisible vie de famille, heureux parents de three children déjà, au moins deux mille kilometers au south des rives du lac où tout avait eu lieu.
Sylvain Prudhomme, L'enfant dans le taxi, POL, 2023.
Then it suddenly came back to me. I thought of the German woman from Lake Constance. Suddenly I made the connection between her and M. I saw myself ten years earlier, listening to the former Algerian laborer who had first told me about this woman, who had told me how much my grandfather had loved her, who had recounted in a trembling voice how he spoke of her every time, year after year after the war, even though he had long since married Imma and had been living for fifteen years on the other side of the Mediterranean on the farm in the Oran region, where he now led a peaceful life with his family and was already the happy father of three children, at least two thousand kilometers south of the shores of the lake where it had all happened.
The memory of "the German woman from Lake Constance" is not passed down directly by the family, but comes via Bahi, an Algerian worker on Malusci's farm in Oran. This illustrates how history often emerges from the margins, from the "forgotten" witnesses. Malusci's trust in Bahi to share his most intimate memories reveals an unexpected connection across social and colonial hierarchies. Simon's realization that in his earlier book he had only revealed part of the secret (just the affair itself) and had completely overlooked M. demonstrates the complexity of the truth and the need for a deeper, more comprehensive examination of history.
Imma's vehement resistance to Simon's search for M. reveals the older generation's deep-rooted fear of "defiling" the past and the associated refusal to disturb the painstakingly established "peace"—which is actually a form of denial.
Je ne veux plus qu'on salisse la vie de mon mari tu m'entends. […] Je veux qu'on laisse mon mari en paix. If you want to have a good night's sleep, it's just as simple as it is, so you don't have to sleep anywhere else in the room with imports. […] Pourquoi tu ne le laisses pas en paix. Cela dit sans plus la moindre colère à résent, de sa voix la plus calme, non plus comme un reproche mais comme une vraie question, la voix d'une vieille dame qui ne cherchait plus à convaincre, seulement à comprendre. Pourquoi tu ne t'occupes pas de ta famille de tes enfants qui grandissent. […] Le problem n'était-il pas plutôt que la paix soit l'autre nom du déni. The other name of the effort is pure and simple.
Sylvain Prudhomme, L'enfant dans le taxi, POL, 2023.
I don't want my husband's life to be further tarnished, do you hear me? […] I want my husband left in peace. He should just be left alone. Doesn't he have the right to sleep peacefully like everyone else? […] Why don't you leave him alone? She said this now without any anger, in a calm voice, no longer as an accusation, but as a genuine question, the voice of an old woman who no longer wanted to convince, but only to understand. Why don't you take care of your family, of your children who are growing up? […] Wasn't the problem rather that peace is another name for denial? Another name for the simple annihilation of life?
Imma's reaction, "sharp as a blade," reveals her determination to maintain appearances. Her desire to keep Malusci's life untarnished and grant him "peace" is an expression of postwar trauma and the need for normalcy and repression. Simon, however, reflects that this "peace" can also mean denying a life. Imma's demand that Simon take care of "his own family" reflects the traditional concept of family honor, which prioritizes the "true family" over hidden or "illegitimate" relationships.
Research in the work of Sylvain Prudhomme
Several novels by Sylvain Prudhomme resemble the research of Malusci's grandson in the sense of actively searching for and collecting stories, memories and facts in order to uncover hidden truths or the complexity of past events.
Là, avait dit Bahi
This novel is directly linked to the research of Malusci's grandson, as it forms the basis for the discovery of his German son, M. The narrator specifically seeks out the former Algerian laborer Bahi so that he can recount his memories. Bahi gives a detailed account of his deep yet complex relationship with Malusci, his time on the farm in Algeria, and the repressed events of the Algerian War. This type of narrative structure, based on the collection of oral traditions, is a central element that Là, avait dit Bahi directly with the later revelations in L'enfant dans le taxi combines.
Legend
In this novel, filmmaker Matt, a friend of the protagonist Nel, undertakes extensive research to reconstruct the lives of Nel's missing cousins, Fabien and Christian. To this end, Matt conducts interviews with various people (e.g., Josette, Toussaint, Joseph) who knew the brothers. His motivation is to "explore the existence of an individual at random, down to its most secret folds, its smallest ramifications." He requests photographs and even searches books and online for scientific discoveries made by the cousins. This systematic yet personally driven investigation is very similar to the approach taken by Malusci's grandson.
Par les routes
Although the narrator is the "hitboy" here, describing his own travels rather than explicitly conducting external research, this is a form of existential and social exploration through chance encounters and conversations. The hitchhiker is an attentive listener, collecting and reflecting on the stories and perspectives of his fellow travelers. He seeks out places, often based on names that represent a particular quality ("adjective journeys," "love journeys"), and sends postcards capturing his impressions. The narrator's family even undertakes "missions" for him, asking him to visit specific locations and send photographs. This is another kind of "research," one that aims to understand the human experience and the nature of the country, though less focused on a specific, hidden family history. The narrator is himself a writer, reflecting on his own writing process and how lived experience transforms into art.
Sylvain Prudhomme's texts are often based on collecting and reconstructing stories, frequently through encounters, interviews, and the exploration of buried pasts. This is a recurring motif in his works, particularly in Là, avait dit Bahi, Legend and Par les routes.
Malusci and Bahi in L'enfant dans le taxi and in Là, avait dit Bahi
the novel Là, avait dit Bahi (Gallimard, 2012) Sylvain Prudhomme's novel explores Algerian history leading up to and during the War of Independence, told through the eyes of Bahi, a veteran Algerian farmworker, and the young narrator. The narrative unfolds over a series of journeys in Bahi's truck through present-day Algeria, where the elderly Bahi confides his memories of Malusci's farm in Oran to the narrator. Malusci is the French settler we already know. Prudhomme paints a portrait of Malusci as an eccentric, yet naive and often repressive colonial master whose life is intertwined with his Algerian employees in a close but ambivalent relationship. The central character, Bahi, emerges as a pragmatic and resilient man who maintains a remarkable vitality despite colonial oppression and the violence of war. His narratives reveal the complex dynamic between Malusci and his staff, who repeatedly saved him from death despite their secret affiliation with the Algerian resistance movement. The late correspondence between the aging Malusci, who remained in France, and Bahi, which forms the core of the book, serves as a bridge to explore the fault lines of the past and the collective and individual processing of memories.
In Sylvain Prudhomme's novels L'enfant dans le taxi and Là, avait dit Bahi The characters Malusci and Bahi are bound by a complex, multifaceted relationship, characterized by both deep personal bonds and historical and social divides. Malusci was, on the one hand, a European colonist ("enfant de colons") and, on the other, had served as part of the French occupation forces in Germany. His family came from southern France, rooted in Mediterranean culture ("sang du Sud"). Bahi was Algerian, the son of a blacksmith on Malusci's farm. He was connected to both the local land and the Algerian resistance. Bahi describes Malusci as his employer, but also as his mentor, confidant, and closest companion ("apprenti, son garçon de confiance, peut-être pas tout à fait son ami"). From Bahi's perspective, Malusci even loved him "more than his wife" ("m'aimant plus même que sa femme"). Malusci entrusted Bahi with his weapons and farm money. He allowed Bahi to drive his tractor and to freely enter his house and his room.
Although the relationship was deeply personal, Malusci remained the employer and Bahi the employee. Malusci sometimes used Bahi to play pranks on Bahi's father and humiliate him. Bahi, on the other hand, was secretly part of the FLN resistance movement during the Algerian War, plotting against French colonial rule while simultaneously protecting Malusci. Malusci was unaware of the dangers he faced and that his workers, including Bahi, had saved him from certain death several times ("Malusci n'aura jamais rien su," "sauvé par trois fois d'une mort certaine et ne pas même le savoir"). Malusci offered Bahi the chance to go to France with him and buy him a farm so he could have him as his son ("être désormais mon fils"). However, Bahi refused, unable to abandon his own father. Despite the breakup, they wrote letters to each other years later, suggesting a continuing, albeit distant, connection.
Malusci seemed to cling to a romanticized version of his past as a colonist, suppressing the realities of the war and the role of his workers. He denied the existence of his illegitimate son, M., and his German wife, Liselotte, for decades. Bahi had vivid and emotional memories of the past, particularly of the German wife and Malusci's love for her. He recounted his memories to the narrator, causing the past to "come back to life." He carried the scars of war and personal loss, such as the death of his father.
Malusci's greatest secret, however, was his illegitimate son, M., whom he refused to acknowledge and whose existence he repressed. He was never aware of the life-saving acts his Algerian workers had performed for him. Bahi's life was defined by the great secret of his double life: as a worker on Malusci's farm and as an active member of the FLN, protecting Malusci's life despite orders to kill him. Overall, Malusci embodies the figure of the colonist who clings to his past and suppresses the truth about his surroundings and his own family in order to maintain his idealized image. In contrast, Bahi is the resilient, loyal, yet secretly rebellious Algerian who remembers the past more clearly and, through his stories, reveals the hidden layers of history and human relationships. Their relationship is a microcosm of the complex, often contradictory dynamics of the colonial era and its aftermath, characterized by affection and betrayal, protection and exploitation.
Là, avait dit Bahi This is demonstrated particularly in the connection with L'enfant dans le taxi A complex construction of memory, not objective but subjectively colored, collectively shaped, and consciously or unconsciously employed to cope with trauma and maintain identities. The often contradictory versions of the same events, such as the number of sheep sacrificed or the various attempts to kill Malusci, make it clear that "truth" serves the human need for meaning. The book presents the ambiguity of colonial relationships, which transcends simple victim-perpetrator dichotomies. The peculiar mixture of loyalty and resentment, affection and dependence between Malusci and Bahi, in which Malusci is even protected by the Algerian resistance, highlights the multifaceted human dimension of historical conflicts and suggests the possibility of a complex, albeit imperfect, coexistence. The narrator's persistent search and the late confrontation with these deeply rooted memories, mediated through letters and conversations, suggest that an honest engagement with the often painful past can be the first step towards a form of healing or reconciliation – not in the sense of a simple closure, but of an ongoing understanding and acceptance of the ambiguities.
Children of War
Ms. desperate attempt in L'enfant dans le taxiMeeting his father, and the subsequent episode in the Foreign Legion, reveal the institutional and personal harshness of the post-war period, which maintained secrecy and separation between French and German “children of the war”.
M. le fils allerand de Malusci tu es au courant n'est-ce pas que ton grand-père a eu un fils en Allemagne à l'époque où il était soldier d'occupation au bord du lac de Constance… incapable de dire ce mot: le fils de Luciano, attendu que de fils il ne pouvait de toute façon y en avoir qu'un… Malusci pendant tout ce temps introuvable, planqué derrière quelle fenêtre entrouverte pour lui permettre d'assister secrètement à toute la scène, caché dans quel placard, bouclé à double tour dans quelle soupente du grenier pour éviter d'avoir à parler au gamin, éviter d'avoir à le prendre dans ses bras, éviter d'avoir à le regarder en face, éviter d'avoir à affronter le spectacle de sa détresse, de son désespéré désir de le rencontrer, lui Malusci, son père, de Recevoir de lui un geste de tendresse, une marque de curiosité, ne serait-ce qu'un mot sincère, une vérité qui ensuite l'accompagne et lui procure a minimum de récomfort dans sa vie d'enfant non voulu.
Sylvain Prudhomme, L'enfant dans le taxi, POL, 2023.
Mr. Malusci's German son, you know that your grandfather had a son in Germany when he was stationed as an occupying soldier on Lake Constance… unable to utter the word: Luciano's son, since there could only be one son anyway… Malusci was nowhere to be found the whole time, hidden behind some half-open window to secretly observe the whole scene, hidden in some cupboard, doubly locked in some attic, so as not to have to speak to the child, so as not to have to hold him in his arms, so as not to have to look into his face, so as not to be confronted with his despair, with his desperate desire to meet him, him, Malusci, his father, to receive from him a gesture of tenderness, a sign of curiosity, even if it was only a sincere word, a truth that would then accompany him and give him a minimum of comfort in his life as an unwanted child.
M.'s arrival by taxi from Germany is a "flash of heightened desire," a childlike act of hoping for recognition. Malusci's hiding and Imma's rejection ("il ne veut pas") are a cruel rebuff. The episode with the Foreign Legion, to which Malusci later sends M. in a misguided gesture of integration ("Toi qui veux être mon fils sois d'abord un homme."), proves to be a traumatic experience and leads to a 40-year ban on entering France. This institutional punishment of a "deserter" prolongs the separation and symbolizes the bureaucratic and military walls erected between the "war children" and their French heritage. Louis's emotional description of these events reveals the tragedy and the extent of the rejection.
The discovery of M's true identity as an antiques dealer (rather than the mistakenly assumed bus driver) gives his character a deeper metaphorical meaning, underlining his own role as a keeper of forgotten stories and values.
The following clicks are apprised of the métier: antique dealer, antiquaire, brocanteur. The device is available on the internet and is available for training. The availability of a professional address in the center is available. This song is based on the change: M. not plus chauffeur of the bus in the middle of the second main bus. Non plus man sociable familyr de tous les habitants du Bourg, habitué à véhiculer les us et les other, mais solitaire habitué à côtoyer surtout des choses, à les racheter, les revendre. M. l'orphelin de père entouré d'objets eux-mêmes comme en suspens, sur le point de changer de mains, d'entamer une new vie. M. the child abandonné qui avait fait profession de s'entourer d'articles délaissés, de veiller sur eux, de découvrir ce qui s'y cachait de valeur inaperçue pour les sauver.
Sylvain Prudhomme, L'enfant dans le taxi, POL, 2023.
With a few clicks, I found out his profession: antique dealer, junk dealer, brocanteur. He had hardly any online presence; perhaps he had stopped working. But he still had a business address in the town center. I thought about what all this changed: Mr. X was no longer a bus driver, but a secondhand goods dealer. He was no longer a sociable man who knew all the town's inhabitants and was used to transporting them, but a loner who dealt primarily with things, buying and reselling them. Mr. X, the fatherless one, surrounded by objects that themselves seemed to be in limbo, on the verge of changing hands, of beginning a new life. Mr. X, the abandoned child who had made it his mission to surround himself with discarded objects, to watch over them, to discover their hidden value in order to save them.
The revelation of Ms.'s true surname, H., and his profession as an antiquarian is a turning point. His work as an "antiques dealer" becomes the central metaphor for his own life: he himself is an "abandoned object" ("l'enfant abandonné") who recognizes the value of the hidden and forgotten. He "rescues" things that others have left behind, much like he himself was left behind. This profession lends his character a poetic dimension, mirroring Simon's own search for hidden family histories and the meaning of life. It is an act of appreciation for what was once overlooked or discarded.
Franz's confession that he himself is an "M." creates an unexpected bridge of solidarity and understanding between him, Simon and the "real" M., thus creating a new, more authentic identity beyond traditional family norms.
There are 400,000 children in M. 400,000 children in all countries. […] 400,000 dont moi. "I don't know what I'm saying, but I'm also from M. I'm from 1946, and I'm all in one place." ... "J'ai songé au mot qui servait communément à nommer les M. et les Franz : des bâtards. J'ai écouté le son glorieux que faisaient ces deux syllabes. J'ai pensé que naître bâtard c'était savoir d'avance que les autres ne vous feraient pas de C'était apprendre d'emblée le grand partage entre qui osaient les choses et ceux qui préféraient les taire the box inévitable de la vie. C'était grandir plus courageux, plus honnête with soi-même et with la vie, all simplement plus vrai. N'était-ce pas ce l'on disait des chiens bâtards: qu'ils étaient beaucoup plus intelligents que tous les chiens de race. Que pour eux la débrouille était question de survie.
Sylvain Prudhomme, L'enfant dans le taxi, POL, 2023.
There were 400.000 children like Mr. M. 400.000 German children born to Allied soldiers. […] 400.000, including me. I never told you, but I too am an M. I too was born in 1946, to a German mother and an Allied father.” …“I thought of the word usually used to refer to M. and Franz: bastards. I listened to the glorious sound of those two syllables. I thought that being born a bastard meant knowing from the outset that others would give you nothing. It meant learning from the very beginning about the great divide between those who dared to call a spade a spade and those who preferred to keep quiet. Being born a bastard meant gaining time, maturing faster, learning from the start how to cope with life’s inevitable obstacles. It meant becoming braver, more honest with oneself and with life, simply more truthful. Wasn’t that what they said about mixed-breed dogs: that they were far more intelligent than any purebred? That for them, getting by was a matter of survival?”
Franz's confession of being one of 400.000 German children of Allied soldiers reveals the magnitude of this historical phenomenon and the individual tragedy behind it. He identifies with the derogatory term "bâtard" (bastard), but he reverses its meaning: it is not a disgrace, but a source of strength, truth, and resilience. The "bastards" are those forced to call things by their name, to accept the reality of life's "limping," and to simply be more truthful. This solidarity among the "abandoned" creates a bond that transcends blood ties, defining a new form of family and identity based on shared experience and empathy.
The characters M. and Franz, labeled "Bâtards" as "children of Allied soldiers and German mothers," embody the transgenerational burden of postwar trauma. However, the text transforms this stigmatization into a source of unique resilience and deeper authenticity; their marginalized existence outside the hegemonic family order allows them a sharper perception of life's "Boitement" and a "true" confrontation with reality, which remains denied to the denying majority society.
The belated meeting between Malusci and M., initiated by Franz and Julie, is a symbolic act of reconciliation and a break with decades of secrecy, even if it is only possible through mediation. M.'s rose on Malusci's coffin is a powerful sign of recognition and forgiveness on his own terms.
C'est-à-dire qu'il a revu Malusci avant sa mort. Pendant today a week. C'était déjà presque la fin, Malusci était à bout de forces, passait la journée entière à sleep. Mais chaque matin pendant une heure ou deux M. est venu s'asseoir à son chevet. […] Et Malusci, j'ai demandé après un temps. Do as much as your impression that you can enjoy it. Je crois, a dit Franz. Il a ri. This form is not available without the need to be debugged and defiled. […] Je me suis demandé s'il allait faire ça à M. Mais non. Il lui a pris la main. Il lui a parlé. […] C'est toi qui traduisais, j'ai simplement demandé à Franz. C'est moi, il a répondu.
Sylvain Prudhomme, L'enfant dans le taxi, POL, 2023.
That means he saw Malusci one last time before he died. For a whole week. It was almost the end; Malusci was at the end of his strength and spent all day sleeping. But every morning, Mr. M. came to his bedside for an hour or two. […] And Malusci, I asked after a while. Did you get the impression that it gave him pleasure? I think so, said Franz. He laughed. If it hadn't given him pleasure, he would have slipped away somehow. […] I wondered if he would do that with Mr. M., too. But no. He took his hand. He spoke to him. […] You translated, I asked Franz. That was me, he replied.
The fact that M. visited Malusci for a week before his death, with Franz acting as his translator, is a pivotal act of reconciliation. Although Malusci didn't speak German and M. didn't speak French, Franz facilitated communication and thus a belated rapprochement. The gesture of the rose, which M. didn't bring to the funeral himself but asked Franz to place on the coffin, is deeply significant. It is an acknowledgment of fatherhood, but on M.'s own terms—a reconciliation that doesn't demand forgiveness for the past, but rather an acknowledgment of the present and M.'s place within it. M.'s words, "C'est ici qu'est ma place," demonstrate that he has found peace within his own life and no longer needs the approval of Malusci's family to define his identity.
Simon's final encounter with M. ends deliberately openly, hinting at a new era of direct, empathetic connection that transcends the burden of historical secrets and celebrates the possibility of individual happiness in the here and now.
Alors d'un coup je comprends, d'un coup j'en ai la certitude: M. est amoureux, il aime et il est aimé, et ce coup de fil qu'il passe est celui d'un homme épris comme un gamin, épris comme à quinze ans quand pour la première fois on aime et rien que d'entendre la voice aimée nous electrise. M. est amoureux, j'en ai soudain la certitude – ce n'est donc pas vrai que l'amour ne puisse jamais renaître, le cœur jamais rebattre, ce n'est pas vrai qu'on doive toujours être seul, que même l'abandonné des abandonnés doive toujours souffrir.
Sylvain Prudhomme, L'enfant dans le taxi, POL, 2023.
Suddenly I understand, suddenly I'm certain: M. is in love, he loves and is loved, and this phone call is from a man who is in love like a child, in love like when you're fifteen, when you love for the first time and just hearing the beloved's voice electrifies you. M. is in love, I'm suddenly certain – so it's not true that love can never be rekindled, that the heart can never beat faster again, that one must always be alone, that even the most abandoned of the abandoned must always suffer.
The final scene, in which Simon M. watches in his garden as M. lovingly puts away his grandchildren's toys, and then notices M.'s infatuation on the phone, is crucial. Simon's realization that M. "is in love, he loves, and he is loved" shatters the expectation of a life marked by pain. It is a celebration of life and the possibility of finding happiness despite past traumas.
The other side of the door has a voice that sounds like it's still going on. Elle dit le mot, elle le dit d'un ton léger et d'un coup cela paraît presque dérisoire, toutes ces circonvolutions depuis le début pour en arriver là, all ces errements pour aboutir simplement au fond à this invitation entendue à travers le panneau de bois qui déjà s'ouvre: Entre.
Sylvain Prudhomme, L'enfant dans le taxi, POL, 2023.
On the other side of the door, the voice is already saying what I always thought it would say. It says the word, it says it in a light tone, and suddenly it seems almost ridiculous, all those detours from the beginning to get here, all those wrong turns, just to arrive at this invitation, heard through the already opening wooden door: Come in.
The novel's final word, "Entre" ("Come in"), is an open invitation that marks the end of Simon's long search and hints at the beginning of a potentially healing relationship between nephew and uncle. It is a step toward a future where direct encounter and empathy can overcome the silence and repression of the past.
Possibility of healing historical traumas
The narrative style reflects Simon's personal quest. The narrator is himself an author who has already partially addressed his grandfather's story in an earlier book. His renewed engagement with the subject matter and his admission of how much he "missed out" back then underscore the iterative nature of historiography and the necessity of continually "digging" to get closer to the truth. Simon's role as a "brother" to the "intranquilles" and "boiteux"—the restless and the lame—points to a poetics of fractures and imperfection that constitute life and history.
Although the narrative revolves around the revelation of a deeply buried secret, it culminates not in a complete resolution, but in a precarious form of reconciliation and empathetic exchange. Franz's role as "translator" between father and son, as well as Ms.'s gesture of placing a rose at Malusci's grave, symbolize a subtle breaking of the family's vows of silence. This suggests that healing the family's wounds lies in the careful acknowledgment of the past, rather than a forced reckoning, and leads to a broader, albeit more complex, definition of family.
The novel transcends the mere uncovering of a family secret. It places the necessity of truth at its core, not for condemnation, but for understanding and healing. The narrative suggests that true "peace" can only be achieved by confronting uncomfortable realities and ending the "annihilation of life" caused by denial. By finding Simon M. and forging a potential connection, the novel hints at a way to heal historical trauma, not only on an individual level, but also on a multigenerational one, based on empathy and the acceptance of the entirety of human history, often a complex and multifaceted story. M.'s eventual infatuation is not just a personal victory, but a universal message.
This article is written in German and can be found at https://rentree.de. Automatic translations into English and French are available. English, French.
