The other side, without resentment: Paul Gasnier

Accident in a torn and sick country

In June 2012, the narrator's mother died in a traffic accident in Lyon—the book cover shows the tire tracks. Eighteen-year-old repeat offender Saïd, riding a motocross bike on its back wheel, lost control and crashed into the narrator's 54-year-old mother, who was cycling. The collision occurred at 17:13 p.m. That evening, the narrator's father received a message from two police officers. The mother was rushed to the hospital with severe injuries, where her traumatic brain injury was deemed inoperable. The father informed the siblings, who were returning from abroad (his sister from Colombia, the narrator from Mumbai). After a week, the mother was declared brain dead, and the family had to make the decision regarding organ donation.

Paul Gasnier's novel The collision (Gallimard, 2025, shortlisted for the Prix Goncourt and the Prix Roman Fnac) undertakes a dense literary “enquiry” that transcends genres, moving between autofiction, investigative journalism, and social essay. The first-person narrator, himself a journalist, uses the personal tragedy of his mother’s death—killed in 2012 by 18-year-old Saïd in a street race (“rodéo urbain”)—as the starting point for a meticulous search for truth and understanding. The physical accident becomes a metaphor for the collision of two fundamentally different worlds and lifestyles: the mother’s intellectual, cosmopolitan, and privileged family with their globalized ideals, and Saïd, a young man from a marginalized neighborhood, trapped in a cycle of poverty, crime, and the search for identity. Their confrontation reflects the deep socioeconomic and cultural tensions that characterize modern France. For the narrator explicitly states that the incident is "neither an accident nor a murder," but rather "a French story of the early 21st century in which two parallel destinies, destined to ignore each other, collided in a fractured and ailing country." Paul Gasnier, according to his conversation with Libération he carried out his literary investigation in order to reclaim his story (“se ​​réapporier son histoire”) after he was fed up with the extreme right trying to “expropriate” his personal narrative and instrumentalize it for their purposes. ¹

The collision occurs at a topographical and social fault line: below lies the "Presqu'île," with its bourgeois facades, cafés, cultural offerings, and a new yoga center—the epitome of a cosmopolitan, self-optimized milieu that lives by international work rhythms and transforms leisure time into "healthy living." Whether architect or yoga teacher, this milieu cultivates a form of urban ease and symbolic capital, sustained by education, property, and global mobility. Just a few streets higher, however, begins the terrain of a completely different world: the "Pentes" of the Croix-Rousse, narrow, steep, dominated by fast-food outlets, cheap salons, and youth hangouts. Here, lives revolve around casual jobs, illegal dealings, group affiliation, and the constant struggle for status in the shadow of marginalization. The motocross machine racing through Rue Romarin becomes a symbol of their milieu: loud, risky, untamed, a vehicle of visibility in a society that otherwise hardly notices these young men.

It is precisely at this intersection of the two spaces that the bodies collide: the woman on her bicycle, a symbol of a calm, orderly, bourgeois everyday life – and the teenager intoxicated by speed, driven by testosterone, peer pressure, and the desire to dominate the asphalt. The novel vividly portrays this opposition: one lives with the idea of ​​upward mobility through education, career, and self-realization, the other experiences the downward spiral of family fractures, drug use, and petty crime. It is as if two forms of urban life are clashing – the tamed, aestheticized, marketable lifestyle versus the raw, excessive, unregulated city life. The fact that both worlds coexist in the same neighborhood, but only truly collide in the moment of catastrophe, lends the scene its emblematic power: it reveals how deeply the social divide is inscribed in urban space – and how blind both sides remain to each other until fate brutally forces them together.

Or how the Nouvel Observateur His interview with the author is titled: "How can one remain left-wing when 'the death of his mother perfectly illustrates what the extreme right denounces'?" ²

Autofiction, investigative journalism, social essay

A deeply personal narrative thread paints a portrait of an independent, intellectual, and cosmopolitan woman who was an architect and later developed a passion for yoga. The narrator's mother's life is characterized by a search for self-realization and a rejection of conventions, symbolized by her time spent abroad and the founding of her yoga center. Her tragic death, shortly after the culmination of her self-realization, stands in painful contrast to her gentle ideals and illustrates the "collision" of two worlds. The narrator's agonizing, long-term grief, his initial anger, and deep resentment toward Saïd form the starting point of his research. In the process, he evolves from a passive victim to an investigative journalist who wants to understand the circumstances of his mother's death and the life of her killer. Writing becomes his personal way of coping with the loss and grasping the complexity of the events, rather than succumbing to populist simplifications.

The collision It combines elements of autofiction, investigative journalism, and the social essay. The narrative strategy of the "enquête littéraire" allows for a dual perspective: the subjective processing of grief and anger, and a quasi-objective, forensic reconstruction of the events and their social causes. The narrative does not proceed linearly but rather "rewinds neurotically" and "dissects" the accident, using court documents, witness statements, and interviews as primary sources to explore even the smallest cavern of the incident. The methodical "dismemberment" ("désosser") and "neurotic rewinding" ("rembobinage névrotique") of the incident through court records, witness statements, and interviews are not merely narrative techniques but an epistemological strategy. This allows the author to construct, beyond individual grief and "narcotic rage," a complex genealogy of violence and to uncover the "fractures that shaped society." The writing process itself thus becomes a therapeutic act, a way to "confront violent power" and escape the "prison of the event." Nathalie Crom writes in her review: "Thanks to precise attention to detail and a sober, restrained writing style, it succeeds in..." The Collision, to combine an investigation, ethical and political considerations and a moving book about grief under one roof.” ⁴

Said

The life of the young offender Saïd in Lyon traces his journey from growing up in the Croix-Rousse district to his repeated involvement in crime. The text offers insights into Saïd's childhood and adolescence in a neighborhood shaped by Canuts (silk workers) and later by North African immigrants. Saïd grew up in the shadow of his charismatic older brother Abdel, who was involved in drug trafficking and was murdered by a friend a year before the accident. This event marked a turning point for the neighborhood and for Saïd's family. The text highlights the deterministic forces at play in Saïd's environment—the presence of drug trafficking, peer pressure, the failure of social systems, and the search for recognition in the shadow of his murdered brother Abdel. Saïd's path is a downward spiral that, despite the numerous efforts of social workers and judges, could not be halted.

Precisely because the narrator himself belongs to the victim's privileged social circle, he gives voice to various individuals or describes them in detail, all of whom come from the perpetrator Saïd's cultural and social environment. The narrator places great importance on gathering these perspectives in order to paint a nuanced picture beyond stereotypes. Saïd's sister, Hafsia, apologizes on behalf of her family for Saïd's actions and describes his difficult psychological state following the murder of her brother Abdel and the accident. She defends Saïd as a "victim of his own story," but also acknowledges his instability and the negative influences of the neighborhood. Hafsia embodies the desire for forgiveness and healing as a personal path to reconstruction. She emphasizes the importance of family and tries to keep her children away from the criminal world of the Pentes. Hafsia openly addresses the potential racist prejudices against her community and makes it clear that she wants to counteract clichés by highlighting her family's education and success. At the end, she asks the narrator to leave her brother's court hearing out of respect for her privacy.

The perpetrator's actions are primarily documented through his own statements in court records and interrogations. Initially, he denies crucial details such as cannabis use, the type of motorcycle, and the wheelie. Later, in court, he expresses remorse, apologizes to the victim's family, and claims he underestimated the motorcycle's power. He also attempts to explain his repeated violations of court orders by claiming he wanted to see his girlfriend. While these statements are often influenced by defense strategies, they nevertheless offer insight into his mindset and personal circumstances.

The two friends, Hamza and Youssef, who helped Saïd hide the motorcycle after the accident, also testified in court. Their statements were characterized by denials and unconvincing explanations. Hamza claimed he had been shot ("J'me suis pris une balle") and that he had only wanted to help move the motorcycle out of the way. Youssef stated that he wanted to do Saïd a favor by removing the motorcycle. Their observation of smoking a joint in the courthouse during a recess underscores their nonchalance towards the system and the prevalence of drug culture in their community.

Although Saïd's parents are not directly mentioned, their story as Moroccan immigrants of the first cohort in Croix-Rousse in the 1960s is described. Her father served in the French army in Indochina. The narrator emphasizes that Saïd's parents were law-abiding and that their daughters lead stable lives, in order to refute the notion of a cultural predisposition to crime.

Mounir is a social worker who has known the young people of the Pentes, including Saïd and his friends, for a long time. He offers profound insights into the dynamics of the neighborhood, the influence of the drug trade, peer pressure, and the difficulty of escaping this cycle. He describes the crime that has become a cultural phenomenon ("gangrene devenue culturelle"), fueled by greed, rap videos, and the search for recognition through displays of bravado like "urban rodeos." Something that was once a social or criminal "problem" has become so deeply ingrained in the daily life and mentality of the neighborhood that it has essentially become a cultural form. Mounir himself is deeply rooted in this social fabric and offers a professional, yet also personally informed, perspective on the challenges and failures of social interventions.

Overall, the inclusion of these voices and background stories significantly contributes to understanding the "culture of the perpetrator" not as monolithic or simplistic, but in its complexity, contradictions, and socioeconomic determinisms. The novel thus aims to counteract the political instrumentalization of such "faits divers" through a deeper human and social analysis.

intertextuality

Paul Gasnier uses quotations, allusions, and references to anchor his text as a multifaceted "literary inquiry" that transcends the mere depiction of an event. The opening lines, with quotations from Paul Valéry—"The dead have only the living as a resource." ("Les morts n'ont plus que les vivants pour ressource")—and Virginie Despentes—"This passion that the rich have for the history of their little family" ("Cette passion qu'ont les riches pour l'histoire de leur petite famille")—set the tone: The novel is an investigation into the afterlife of the dead in the living and, at the same time, a critical examination of class differences. Cioran's reflections on revenge and forgiveness frame the narrator's emotional turmoil. The mention of Gandhi as a representative of radical forgiveness provides an ethical counterpoint to the narrator's fantasies of revenge. The mention of Raskolnikov serves to differentiate him: Saïd is currently... not The complex perpetrator of world literature, plagued by moral dilemmas, makes the investigation of his "empty" character all the more urgent. The elusive Foucault attribution ("Le fait divers est une sécrétion du temps") further underpins the meta-literary reflection on the nature and function of "faits divers".

A second intertextual element is the socio-political and historical context, which embeds the private tragedy within a national narrative. The allusions to the 2022 presidential candidate and his rhetoric about "l'ensauvagement" (industrialization), "laxisme judiciaire" (judicial laxity), and the buzzword "racaille" (rabble) – as well as the mention of Sarkozy's "bande de racailles" (gang of rabble) in 2005 – situate the accident as a symptom of deep societal divisions. Historical digressions on the history of Lyon (Canuts, Cour des Voraces), the role of Maghrebi soldiers in the Indochina War (Saïd's father), and the resistance (the narrator's great-grandfather) create a complex backdrop that illuminates the socio-economic determinisms behind Saïd's life. The gentrification of Croix-Rousse is also interpreted as a historical process that paves the way for the collision of two worlds.

Furthermore, the novel functions as media critique and self-reflection on the portrayal of violence. The detailed description of a radio program on Europe 1 ("On marche sur la tête") exemplifies how "faits divers" (diverse facts) are instrumentalized in the media for populist agendas. The reflection on the "proche de la victime" (the victim's close associate) as an independent media figure and the engagement with the "loi anti-rodéo" (anti-rodent law) underscore the narrator's critical stance towards simplistic and sensationalist reporting. The mention of the rap song "Petit frère" by IAM provides a cultural reference point for Saïd's milieu and its values. This intertextuality highlights the novel's ability to deconstruct the media's construction of reality and counter it with its own, more complex narrative.

Finally, the intertextuality extends to the spiritual and personal references that contribute to the narrator's search for meaning and self-healing. The mother's unpublished manuscript on Patanjali's Yoga Sutras, the Bhagavad Gita, and the Upanishads becomes a posthumous philosophical guide. Her thoughts on "quality of presence" and "lâcher-prise" offer the narrator a way to overcome the obsessive rumination on the past and find inner peace. The allusion to Joseph Losey's film opera "Don Giovanni," with the mythical confrontation of the Commendatore returning from the dead to demand justice, illustrates the narrator's deeply ingrained fantasies of revenge and his eventual rejection of such archaic notions of retribution.

The novel is highly meta-reflexive, commenting on its own creative process and the limits of narratability. The narrator reflects on the "impossibility of truly penetrating the life of a stranger," even after meticulous research into forensic details in court documents. The repeated emphasis on the "superficiality" of his knowledge about Saïd and the critical examination of the figure of the "victim's closeness" in the media underscore this meta-level. The poetics of The Collision It is thus one that reveals its own construction, addresses the limits of the search for truth, and finds an attitude towards the world in the act of writing itself – as a “third alternative” to “overcome the tension” and find a form of peace.

Dual political interpretation and legal novel

The accident was a shock for the family, not least because it shattered his parents' leftist values ​​against the "brutality of reality." According to Florence Pitard, Gasnier describes the two protagonists as "two true caricatures of their social milieus." ⁵ The text implies a dual interpretation: one that instrumentalizes the tragedy for right-wing populist purposes and stokes racist fears, and a more nuanced perspective that tames its own anger and strives for justice. The narrator is consistently aware of this dichotomy and explicitly positions his work as a response to it.

The narrator begins the book by describing a campaign rally held by presidential candidate Zemmour in Cannes in January 2022, whose rhetoric appeals to "dark passions" and uses terms like "Racaille" (rabble) to "promote disinhibition." The candidate denounces "judicial laxity" and the "ensauvagement" (wildness) of the country. The narrator, a journalist, is insulted by the candidate's supporters as "gauchiste," "bobo," "parisien," and "déconnecté." The narrator admits that this political rage taps into a personal rage stemming from his mother's death. He could have "adopted one of those 'Ça suffit'" had he not learned "to recognize their fences." He recognizes that his mother's death "perfectly illustrates what the far-right discourse denounces." He notes that "the extreme right had talentedly captured this confusion and anger that I had experienced so deeply."

The “young man on the back wheel” has become a cultural archetype, beloved by regional newspapers and far-right websites. Such “faits divers” are used to polarize society and fuel a “culture of resentment.” An anonymous caller to the police, referring to Saïd and his friends, says: “They’re big pigs because they could have stopped and helped, we’re sick of this shit” and “the victim’s family might have children, and these pigs, we’re sick of them.” This reflects the moral outrage common in xenophobic discourse. A radio broadcast in 2024 about another deadly “rodéo urbain” shows how such tragedies are immediately incorporated into populist, polarizing narratives about “judicial laxity” and the “silent majority” directed against those “who march not with France, but against France.” The narrator ends the broadcast, signaling his rejection of this type of interpretation.

The narrator refuses to be driven by anger or to engage in simplistic populist narratives. His writing process is an attempt to "confront the violence" and understand the "collectivity" that led to the collision. He wants to "present the story as fairly as possible" and "rehumanize relationships" in order to appease anger and "escape the trap of the demands of the times." The book thus delves into Saïd's socioeconomic background in the Croix-Rousse district, the gentrification, drug dealing, peer pressure, and the failure of social institutions that shaped his career. The narrator examines "the fractures that shaped society." He emphasizes that "a society that produces its own deviations tells us a story like Saïd's." The narrator criticizes how the "proliferation" of "facts divers" and "turnkey solutions" negates their potential meaning and leads to "the tyranny of immediate emotion." He emphasizes that "understanding is also an apology" in a public debate that is "stifled by doubt as a compromise".

The entire narrative is driven by the exploration of the justice system. The narrator begins his research by dissecting the legal investigation file to understand the precise circumstances of his mother's death. Police reports, witness statements, medical reports, and interrogations form the basis of his inquiry, revealing the meticulous yet impersonal workings of the police and judicial machinery. The novel vividly depicts the criminal trial of Saïd and his friends Hamza and Youssef. It describes the atmosphere in the courtroom, the roles of those involved (judge, prosecutor, lawyers), the closing arguments, and the verdicts. Saïd's interrogation and his repeated lies, as well as the flimsy explanations of Hamza and Youssef, illustrate the difficulties of establishing the truth and the strategies employed by the defense. The novel transcends mere reporting, reflecting on the nature of guilt and responsibility. The question of whether deliberately creating conditions that could lead to death constitutes "homicide involuntaire" (involuntary killing) is critically examined. The debate surrounding the introduction of the term "homicide routier" demonstrates society's search for a more appropriate legal classification for such acts.

The novel illuminates the structural problems of the justice system: the overburdened courts and police departments, the complexity of the procedures, the possibility of "vices de forme" (legal quibbles), and the difficulty of sustainably rehabilitating offenders like Saïd. At the same time, Judge Moreau rejects simplistic solutions and warns against misusing the justice system as a mere "punching ball" for populist demands. He emphasizes that the justice system has the task of curbing "human natural inclinations" (such as the desire for revenge).

Judge Philippe Moreau, who presided over Saïd's case, embodies the nuanced stance that the narrator also strives for. He rejects a simplistic "moral" to the story and views the accident as a "collective failure." He does not believe in complete free will and interprets the justice system as a mechanism that "mitigates the violent power of the law" so as not to break the individual. He is aware that he "must manage the severity of a rule while softening the dose to limit the damage." His understanding of Saïd's actions as a motorcyclist himself and his compassion for the victim's family illustrate the attempt to "judge on equal terms." The author conceives of his book as a counter-narrative, aiming to deconstruct oversimplifications and offer a deeper, more complex, and more humane perspective on the societal causes of violence and the workings of the justice system. He seeks to overcome the polarization of society through understanding and empathy.

Judge Philippe Moreau, who presided over Saïd's trial, emphasized that there is no simple "moral" to be drawn from the story, only an unfortunate chain of events. He revealed that he is himself a motorcyclist, which gave him a deep understanding of Saïd's actions. Moreau views the justice system as a mechanism that mitigates "violent power" to prevent the individual from being broken. He described the accident as a "collective failure" and Saïd as being in a state of "total anomie."

Addendum

Nine years after the accident, Saïd is still involved in violence, even after becoming a father. The narrator grapples with the question of whether Saïd is simply "stupid," as one police officer suggests, and whether it even makes sense to explore the life of such a seemingly "empty" character. He rejects his father's view that "these boys are in a different world, not like you and me." Ultimately, the investigation culminates in a struggle for ethical understanding and a form of healing. The narrator explores the "line of a tightrope" between revenge and forgiveness: ten years after the accident, influenced by the presidential election campaign and its populist rhetoric about crime and immigration, he recognizes the political dimension of his mother's death.

Characters like Saïd's sister Hafsia, who, drawing on her own tragic experience, emphasizes the "importance of forgiveness" as a "parameter of reconstruction," and Judge Philippe Moreau, who interprets the accident as a "collective failure," point the way beyond blind revenge. The mother's posthumously discovered yoga manuscript on the "quality of presence" and "lâcher-prise" becomes a philosophical guide for the narrator to find an inner "point of equilibrium" and to "overcome tension." Writing itself thus becomes, in a sense, a "yoga posture," a complex position for transcending the pain of the past and finding peace in the face of a "mercilessly indifferent world."

1. Paul Gasnier in: Anastasia Vécrin, Thibaut Sardier, «J'en ai eu marre d'entendre l'extreme droite me déposséder de mon histoire», Libération, 10. September 2025.>>>
2. “Comment rester de gauche quand « la mort de sa mère illustre ce que l'extreme droite dénonce » ?” Sandra Nabavi, Nouvel Observateur, 14. September 2025.>>>
3. Paul Gasnier in: Anastasia Vécrin, Thibaut Sardier, «J'en ai eu marre d'entendre l'extreme droite me déposséder de mon histoire», Libération, 10. September 2025.>>>
4. “Au prix d'un travail de construction précis, d'une écriture toute de sobriété et de retenue, The Collision Parvient à contenir tout ensemble une enquête, une réflexion éthique et politique, et un bouleversant livre deuil”, Nathalie Crom, “La Collision, de Paul Gasnier: vous n'aurez pas ma haine”, Télérama, 17. September 2025.>>>
5. Florence Pitard, “Enquête sans haine sur la mort d'une mère”, Ouest-France, 21. September 2025.>>>