“I’m writing a war book. Not to make dead people, but to make people alive,” writes Christian Bobin (1951-2022) in his final book, The whisper. In poetic prose that reminds us that literature sometimes has the power to suspend time, calm and lucid, he notes: “We spend our time waiting for something better than our life. ” To write ? It is also for him to “snatch language from the hell of opinions.” » At a time when shadows, silence and secrets have become rare, from his hospital bed and knowing he is dying, the poet tells us of his fascination for the pianist Grigory Sokolov and for Bach, his “third lung”. In these gentle and unpitying pages, the author of The more than alive and D’Self-portrait at the radiator also persists in saying, in a last breath and despite the laughter, the enigma of life, his quest for the absolute and his love of God. An idea, he reminds us, created by man. Just like music, books and love itself.
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