“And now here comes a long winter” by Thomas Moralès is real fireworks. The Belmondo rocket, the beautiful blue of a Michou, the white nights of Barclay or the black Lagarfeld. From the announcement of a disappearanceleaving us in the aggravation of our melancholy, Thomas Moralès enters the track.
Moralès drives his book, like a vintage car, his indulgence. He leaves Paris, heading for the Normandy motorway, the car radio plays credits from our childhood, “Le Prisonnier”, “Amicalement Vôtre” and “Bowler hat and leather boots”. Suddenly, a special flash!
Thomas Moralès presses the accelerator, releases the horses and delivers a portrait of Diana Rigg “Emma Peel was as emotionally powerful as her Norman counterpart Emma Bovary. Ah if Flaubert had known her”. And the author concludes “I I said that John Steed was lucky to rub shoulders with this pop deity”.
Reading “And now here comes a long winter”, it’s a bit our life that slips awaythe author refuses, he writes, “to flagellate himself on the altar of modernity”. Moore, and all those in Paris: Danièle Darrieux Belmondo, Brasseur, Lonsdale, Rochefort and Marielle.
“Souvenirs, Souvenirs”, as Johnny, another great elected official of the book, sang, it seems that time takes you away, but as if by magic, you give us a sign, your voices, your faces in an old Paris Match, a film, a podcast.
And you will always be our friends. To read or reread, “And now here comes a long winter” by Thomas Moralès / Héliopoles Editions.