Serge Raffy – Rentrée littéraire: contemporary French literature

Algerian War, Oresteia, Film noir: Serge Raffy

24.03.2618.09.25

Serge Raffy's "L'odeur de la sardine" (Fayard, 2025) is a hybrid work situated at the intersection of crime novel, historiographical fiction, and political allegory. The mysterious murder of former police chief Charles Bayard in Paris proves to be the catalyst for a profound exploration of the incurable wounds of the Algerian War. Raffy employs a poetics of "mentir vrai" (telling the truth) to expose repressed traumas and the "dark side of Gaullism." The titular "disgusting smell of the sardine" becomes a penetrating symbol of the inescapable war guilt and post-traumatic stress that haunts Bayard and the entire nation for the rest of his life. The constellation of characters—from the truth-seeking Jeanne Obadia to the journalist Rochas, suffering from writer's block, to the ambivalent investigator Sarda—reflects diverse positions within the discourse on memory and guilt. At its core, "L'odeur de la sardine" is a modern Algerian novel and can be read as an epilogue to the ancient "Oresteia," in which the search for justice and atonement reveals the "bad French conscience." Raffy illuminates the transgenerational silence and the "empty graves" as metaphors for a systematically repressed past. Raffy avoids a simple resolution to the crime and the historical guilt. Instead, he stages a polyphonic, cinematic narrative characterized by film noir aesthetics and the fragmentation of memory. Thus, the Algerian War remains an "unsolved case," its "scent" lingering in the souls and minds across the Mediterranean, demanding a reconciliation that is still pending.

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Political Rhetoric in Ruins: Mathieu Larnaudie and Nicolas Idier
This double review reads Mathieu Larnaudie's "Acharnement" (2012) and Nicolas Idier's "Matignon la nuit" (2024) as complementary diagnoses of a structurally emptied political discourse, whose form has become detached from its addressee and now circulates self-referentially. Narratively, this is condensed into two radically reduced plots: here, the obsessive loop of a reclusive speechwriter who incessantly drafts, rehearses, and discards speeches in the provinces while real catastrophes erupt in his periphery; there, the chronicle of a single night in the seat of government, in which an advisor, under time pressure, is supposed to write a speech and, through encounters, memories, and digressions, becomes increasingly detached from it. Vividly condensed in the image of the wooden platform where Müller rehearses speeches into the void, and in Matignon's nocturnal crisis machine where language disintegrates into modular "éléments," the text reconstructs an argument that progresses inductively from concrete scenes (rehearsal, gymnasium, crisis meeting) to an overarching thesis. On the one hand, the review develops a poetics-based comparative framework by reading Larnaudie's hypotactic, self-commenting prose as a mimetic critique of rhetoric, while Idier's fragmented, contaminated writing style appears as sabotage and an opening of discourse; on the other hand, it intertwines this stylistic analysis with a structural parallelization of character constellation, plot logic, and temporal regime (circular repetition vs. chrono-dramatic night), so that form and diagnosis are mutually validated. The argument is dialectically structured: Starting from the exposure of rhetorical mechanics (rhythm, punchline, mediality), it leads via the analysis of the speaker's position (dismissed "plume" vs. "sous-plume" in the apparatus) and the audience configuration (absence vs. hypermedial presence) to a double aporia, in which either continuing to write despite recognized meaninglessness (Larnaudie) or fleeing into an extrarhetorical gesture (Idier) appear as the only remaining options.
Odysseus in Paris: An epic without a center, with James Joyce
The volume "Ulysse à Paris" (Seuil, 2024) continues the Homeric-Joycean tradition by radically pluralizing the epic structure of the wandering journey and relocating it to the socially, politically, and historically charged terrain of northern Paris. Published in collaboration with the journal Cockpit, this collective novel is not merely a loose anthology, but an aesthetically and theoretically coherent project that programmatically stages literary polyphony as a counter-model to epic unity. Instead of a sovereign hero, a network of heterogeneous voices unfolds, whose characters—from migrant subjects to feminist reformulations of mythical roles to flâneurs sensitized to the politics of memory—experience the odyssey as an event of displacement, precarity, and fragmented identity. The review explores how each contribution transforms specific Homeric episodes and Joycean techniques: be it through the emptying of the heroic (de Quatrebarbes), the ironic treatment of genealogical authority (Fiat), the politicization of mythical violence in the context of Holocaust remembrance (Comment), or the radical subjectivization of marginalized perspectives (Schavelzon, Noël). Tiphaine Samoyault emphasizes memory as a mode of a never-completed homecoming. Gabriela Vazquez condenses migration into an epistemic perspective that consistently conceives of the center from the periphery. The analysis traces the dense intertextual entanglement and reads formal techniques (polyphony, stream of consciousness, catalog technique) as carriers of historical and ideological meanings. It becomes clear that the central driving force of the volume is the deconstruction of homecoming: Ithaca no longer appears as an attainable place, but as an empty signature, replaced by provisional, often precarious forms of arrival that neither stabilize identity nor reconcile history. The review itself thus follows a twofold movement – it reconstructs the genealogical depth of the project and at the same time insists on its diagnostic sharpness regarding the times – making "Ulysse à Paris" visible as an epic that constantly questions its own possibility.
Diaspora as a movement: Manuel Carcassonne
Manuel Carcassonne's "Le Retournement" (Grasset, 2022) begins with an unassuming sentence – "Souvent, Nour et moi, nous nous disputions" – and unfolds from this the story of a man who only late in life, between Parisian publishing offices and a hospital bed in the Hôpital Cochin, between reading Flavius Josephus and the streets of devastated Beirut, comes to the realization that "Jewish heritage" is not a neutral finding, but an existential ascription. Triggered by his encounter with Nour, the Lebanese Christian writer from Achrafieh, whose persistent confusion of "israélite" and "israélien" exemplifies the problem of identity, and by a personal crisis, the narrator embarks on an associative journey through the history of the "Pope's Jews," through family archives, philosophical readings, and contemporary politics. The review interprets this deliberately hybrid book, which oscillates between love story, essay, and historical archaeology, as a literary form of "retournement": not as a return to an origin, but as a movement of displacement and superimposition, in which identity emerges precisely where it defies definitive definition. From the recurring conflict at the beginning to the exhausted gesture of sleep at the end—Nour, walking through the rubble of Mar Mikhael after the explosion of August 4, 2020, and the narrator kissing her without having found any answers—the text, the review argues, demonstrates that Jewishness in late modernity refers neither to faith nor land nor language, but to a specific experience of time, memory, and otherness: a continuous movement that unfolds in the act of writing itself.
Between Glue and Life: A Phenomenology of the Book
Michel Jullien's "Le Format d'un livre" (Verdier, 2026) unfolds a phenomenology of the book that is as precise as it is sensuously rich, starting not with the text but with the object: the weight of the pages, the smell of the paper, the posture of the reading hands. In loosely connected, narratively grounded chapters, Jullien combines miniatures of book history—from the dépôt légal of the Renaissance to the typography of the Pléiade—with autobiographical scenes and ethnographically precise observations of reading as a physical practice. The book thus appears as a unique kind of time receptacle: it stores not only texts but also traces of lived experience—fingerprints, found objects, wear and tear—and derives its meaning from the interplay of material, form, use, and memory. Jullien's essay therefore moves beyond classical genres, between object description, cultural history, and self-narration, vividly demonstrating that the book speaks even before it is read.
Dismantling German-French historical myths in Eric Vuillard's récits
Éric Vuillard's "La bataille d'Occident" (2012) and "L'ordre du jour" (2017) are two war narratives that tell the First and Second World Wars not as national histories, but as products of mutually intertwined Franco-German mythologies: The Franco-Prussian War of 1870/71 forms the structural horizon of both texts, from which the complementary self-images of both nations – the German mythology of rationality and the unstoppable military apparatus, and the French "élan" myth of the glorious offensive – emerge as traumatic reflections of each other. The essay argues that Vuillard's literary method essentially consists of a twofold deconstruction: firstly, he demonstrates that the supposed German efficiency is a bluff—the Wehrmacht's tanks are stuck in traffic on the road to Linz, Schlieffen moves paper figures across a yellowed map—and secondly, that French revanchism collapses in Joffre's culinary Alsatian fantasies, while soldiers in red uniform trousers march into machine-gun fire. The unifying explanatory model is neither national character nor political irrationalism, but rather capitalist interest and class logic: the twenty-four industrialists who financed Hitler in 1933 appear in Vuillard's work as the civilian continuation of the same accounting rationality that led Schlieffen to devise his plan of annihilation as a profit gamble. As a genre of Récit – a hybrid form between essay, historiography and novel – Vuillard practices an autopoetologically reflected poetics of the counter-archive, which sets the repressed names of the victims, the collapsed myths of the perpetrators and the continuing amnesia of corporations against the domestication of history into the folkloristic "déesse raisonnable" of a stagnant historical politics.
Society in a mode of fragmentation – literature as a response to the crisis of representation: Robert Lukenda
Robert Lukenda's study, "Representing Society in the Age of Singularities: Narrative Responses to France's Contemporary Crisis of Representation," is a comprehensive analysis of how contemporary French literature responds to the experience that "society" as a coherent whole has become increasingly elusive. Starting with scenes such as Annie Ernaux's ethnographic view of the supermarket or Éric Vuillard's reconstruction of nameless revolutionary actors, Lukenda demonstrates that literature intervenes precisely where political and media discourses distort or fail to capture social reality. In a first, broad theoretical section, he unfolds France's historical and contemporary crisis of representation—from the tension between the republican claim to unity and social inequality to the fragmentation into "France périphérique" and metropolises—before analyzing literary responses in the second part: autosociobiographical self-examinations (Ernaux, Eribon), documentary reconstructions (Vuillard), collective narrative projects ("Raconter la vie"), and serial formats. The review argues that Lukenda convincingly defines literature as a medium of "mediation" that makes social relations visible where classical forms of representation fail; at the same time, it critically emphasizes that this literature often privileges the perspective of the "invisible," while elites, political institutions, and inherent aesthetic logics remain underexposed. These works create an image of a France that only inadequately describes itself—and of a literature that makes this gap visible without being able to fully close it.
A thriller as a Corneille tragedy: Patrick Besson
Patrick Besson's crime novel "Presque tout Corneille" (Stock, 2025, cited as PTC) functions like a Corneille tragedy disguised as a holiday comedy: Georges Charpy, a fired Parisian journalist, encounters his former boss at the Hotel Aiglon in Corsica and begins to humiliate him at every conceivable game—swimming, tennis, chess, table tennis—driven by his Corsican wife, Colomba, who, like Mérimée's eponymous heroine, pushes the man toward a vendetta without ever explicitly stating it, a power structure that the essay identifies as the true center of the plot. Meanwhile, Lisa, the hotel director's daughter, reads Corneille's complete works chronologically by the pool—one tragedy per day—and her quotations comment on the events like a classical chorus: "Qui vit haï de tous ne saurait longtemps vivre" (from Cinna). "Qui se laisse outrager mérite qu'on l'outrage" (from Heraclius). Sentences that circle Corneille's central theme, namely the question of whether man can ever reconcile what he wants with what he is allowed to do, and which in the novel serve to make the act of murder appear morally predetermined, not as an exception, but as a consequence. The boss is found beheaded, later a second character as well; Georges confesses to both murders—the first out of honor, the second out of jealousy—and the essay reads this double murder as evidence that Besson is not introducing Corneille into the thriller genre, but rather showing that the thriller possesses the same moral architecture as classical theater: guilt arises where the will to gain satisfaction is stronger than reason, which urges moderation, and Lisa, who at the end cuts Corneille off—"Oui: trop de sang." —thus performing the gesture that marks the core of the novel: literature can comment on violence, but it cannot stop it.
Beauty, corruption, and literary genealogy: Capote's guilt, Aragon's farewell, Simon Liberati, and Taïné's death
Simon Liberati's "New York City Inferno" (Stock, 2026) concludes a trilogy of novels that began with "Les Démons" (2020) in late 1960s Paris and leads via 1970s Rome ("La Hyène du Capitole", 2024) to 1974-75 Manhattan – a New York at the turning point between pop and punk, between the last glamour of post-war culture and the first dark premonition of an epidemic that has not yet been named. At the center are the Russian-born siblings Tcherepakine: Taïné, androgynous, drug-addicted, proto-punk avant la lettre, who dies on the schooner Elseneur in Palma de Mallorca, and Alexis, the vagabond would-be writer who ultimately takes Capote's money and begins writing the book that is already the first volume of the trilogy—a Möbius strip in which genesis and work are inextricably intertwined. The essay interprets the trilogy as a circular structure: The book that Alexis announces at the end of the third volume bears the same title as "Les Démons," and this circularity is a poetics statement—literature does not arise from emptiness, but from survival, from the material of the dead. Truman Capote, who appears in the novel as a living corpse and gives the student the apostolic mission, is the key figure: Liberati accomplishes what Capote could not with "Answered Prayers" because the social victory had made writing impossible – he writes the American Proust as a French one, with the same social chronicle, the same betrayal, the same conviction that gossip is a literary form, but with the affective charge that Capote's clinical irony lacks. In this constellation, Louis Aragon's brief, hallucinatorily beautiful appearance also gains its full weight: The old communist, who looks through a fogged windowpane at a Balthus tableau and hums Nerval verses, is not only an intertextual gesture, but the witness of the end – the last representative of a European literature of engagement, who bids farewell to Bérénice (the name of the main character in Aragon's "Aurélien"), who, unlike in Aragon's work, is not a historical martyr in Liberati's version, but a purely aesthetic vision of youth, which the old man sees through glass and cannot touch before he disappears down the sandy path, taking an era with him.
The Unreachable City: Sanctity, History, and Violence in the French Jerusalem Novel
What place does Jerusalem occupy in contemporary French literature—and what does this place reveal about literature itself? This essay examines eleven novels and short stories, ranging from André Schwarz-Bart to Nathan Devers, from Valérie Zenatti to Justine Augier, from Élie Wiesel to Mathias Énard, and demonstrates that Jerusalem is never merely a backdrop in these works, but rather a structuring principle: a city that disorients the characters, brings repressed memories back to the surface, imposes affiliations, and shatters established forms. Three functional types emerge from the comparison—Jerusalem as an eschatological space, as a political focal point, and as an existential mirror—which are distributed and overlap throughout the texts without ever converging. A specifically French perspective proves constitutive: Republican secularism, the legacy of the Enlightenment, the experience of the Shoah as part of its own history—all of this colors the perception of a city equally sacred to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, and whose threefold sanctity has for centuries produced wars as well as longings. Arab and Muslim authors such as Karim Kattan, Amin Maalouf, and Adania Shibli add their own distinctive emphasis, describing Jerusalem not as the destination of a long-held yearning, but as the starting point of forced exile—and using French as a strategically chosen medium to inscribe Palestinian concepts and experiences into a Western discourse that otherwise does not recognize them. What unites the works examined, beyond all differences, is the awareness that Jerusalem eludes the sovereign narrative gaze: None of these texts triumphs over its subject; all bear the marks of the place where they have failed.
War as a legacy: On the systematics of transgenerational imprinting in the work of Julia Weidmann
This review presents Julia Weidmann's study "Continuum of Wars: Intergenerational Narratives of the World Wars in Contemporary French Literature" (Winter, 2025) as a fundamental, comparative investigation of a central phenomenon in contemporary French literature: the intergenerational narration of the World Wars. The starting point is the observation that subsequent generations—from the "wound" generation to the "inheritance" generation—reconstruct familial wartime experiences in literary form, mediating between archival research and imagination. To this end, Weidmann develops an original model of a "war continuum" that replaces traditional numerical generational categories with a metaphorical, trauma-oriented scale, and operationalizes this concept in a four-stage analytical method, which she applies to a broad corpus of authors (including Claude Simon, Patrick Modiano, Ivan Jablonka, and Anne Berest). The review particularly praises the methodological clarity, the nuanced close readings, and the identification of recurring narrative structures across generations, but also highlights limited weaknesses, such as a certain schematization in the comparative analysis and the relatively marginal treatment of aesthetic details. Overall, the study appears as a substantial contribution to literary memory studies, providing a viable set of tools for analyzing transgenerational memory and simultaneously opening up new perspectives for the exploration of future narrative forms.
Writing against the death of her lover: Céline Zufferey
Céline Zufferey's novel "Maxence" (Gallimard, 2026) is a fragmentarily composed writing project born from the anticipated grief for a lover, defying any conventional love narrative. In loosely connected chapters—lists, miniatures, observations, reflections—a portrait of a man emerges that is simultaneously a love story, a memory experiment, and a poetics-based self-examination, driven by the central tension between the desire to capture the ephemeral and the realization of the fundamental inadequacy of linguistic fixation. The narrator writes against the future loss by meticulously registering Maxence's body, voice, gestures, and everyday practices, while increasingly reflecting that every description remains reductive and transforms the living into a potential "tombeau." The interpretation reveals that this very insight into one's own failure becomes an aesthetic principle: the fragmentary form, the rhapsodic temporal structure, and the shifting address (between third person and intimate "you" to both the living and the anticipated dead Maxence) are not merely stylistic devices, but rather necessary responses to the text's ethical and epistemological dilemma. By systematically uncovering the four axes of reading—love narrative, critique of knowledge, autopoiesis, and reflection on time—and simultaneously uniting the semantic fields of body, archive, and prolepsis, the review reveals a poetics of pre-mourning in the novel, in which death does not appear as an event, but as a permanent inscription into the present, leading to an intensification of the everyday: the writing, intended to banish loss, thus itself becomes a medium of heightened presence, without ever resolving the fundamental contradiction between life and recording.
Francesco Petrarch and his followers: Étienne Anheim
Étienne Anheim's "Pétrarque: portrait de famille" (Minuit, 2026) reconstructs Francesco Petrarch's literary project as the result of dense familial entanglements and understands his work as a discursive "family portrait" in which genealogical construction, social embeddedness, and poetic self-stylization are inextricably intertwined. Based on a combination of textual analysis and archival research, Anheim demonstrates how Petrarch mythologizes his origins along a patrilineal notary genealogy, while simultaneously systematically marginalizing or silencing key figures—especially his mother, daughter, and the mothers of his children. The constellations of father (as a professional model to be overcome), brother (as a spiritual alter ego), Laura (as a real void, imaginary lover, and symbolic cipher of poetry), as well as children and friends, unfold as structuring relationships within which Petrarch shapes his authorial identity. Writing thus always appears as an addressed, fragmentary practice within an extended "familia" composed of relatives, correspondents, and literary successors. Anheim does not resolve the tensions between archivally reconstructible social history and literary self-presentation, but rather understands them as a productive site where Petrarch invents his own genealogy and simultaneously establishes the model of modern authorship—a model based on selective memory, symbolic reshaping, and the transformation of familial bonds into literary transmission.

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