/lit/ - Literature

To The Nutcase

I don’t read much; I don’t have the time. So many years already lost in so much foolishness and prison! But people press me, abjure me, badger me. I must, it appears, read a kind of article, the “Portrait of an Anti-Semite’ by Jean-Baptiste Sartre (Temps Modernes, December 1945). I browse through this long homework assignment, glance at it, it’s neither good nor bad, it’s nothing at all, a pastiche...a kind of “Copycatwriters”... ....This little J.B.S. read “L’Étourdi,” “The Tulip Lover,” etc. He was caught up in them and can’t escape...Still in high school, this J.B.S.! Still with his pastiches, with his “copycatworks”... Céline’s style too... and many others...“Whores” etc... “Replacement heads”... “Maya.”.. Nothing too serious, of course. I have a few trailing behind my ass, these “Copycatwriters”... what can I do about it? Suffocating, hateful, half-baked, traitors, half-bloodsucker, half-tapeworm, they don’t do me any honor, I never speak of them, and that’s all. Children of the shadows. Decency! Oh, I don’t wish little J.B.S. any harm! There where he is his fate is cruel enough! Since we’re talking about a homework assignment I would give him a seven out of a possible twenty and let’s

not talk about it anymore... But on page 462 the little turd shocks me! The damned rotten asshole! What does he dare to write? “If Céline supported the socialist theses of the Nazis it’s because he was paid.” And I quote. Yes! This then is what this little dung-beetle wrote while I was in prison risking a hanging. Filthy little bastard full of shit, you come out from between my ass cheeks to soil me from outside! Cain anus ptooey! What are you hoping for? That they murder me! It’s obvious! Here! Let me squash you! Yes!... I see his photos, those bug eyes...that hook...that slobbering leech...he’s a cestode! What won’t he invent, this monster, so that they assassinate me! Barely out of my caca and he denounces me! What’s best is that on page 451 he has the venom to warn us: “A man who finds it natural to denounce men can’t have our notion of honor. He doesn’t even see those for whom he is a benefactor with our eyes; his generosity, his kindness is not like our kindness and generosity: it isn’t possible to localize passion.”

In my asshole where he can be found we can’t ask of J.B.S. too see clearly or to explain himself simply. J.B.S. it seems has nevertheless foreseen the solitude and obscurity of my anus...