By Deshays, Elizabeth; Michon, Pierre; Gladding, Jody
Pierre Michon's Lives lower than Glass was once known as "his chef-d'oeuvre" via Le Monde.
summary: Pierre Michon's Lives below Glass used to be known as "his chef-d'oeuvre" by means of Le Monde
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The candle goes out, a nightingale escapes from the elder; maybe in Saint-Goussaud someone hears the worm-eaten door of the church creak – but it could just as well be a cowshed door or two opposing branches in a thicket. The stars flee, or the gold salamanders when one strikes a light behind the moss-stained windows. What else does the night complain of, when the dogs wear themselves out, blind and thundering? What old family drama is perpetuated in the throat of the rooster? The shadow scrolled with ferns thickens in the rising day.
His military service over, he returned to Les Cards – it may have been in December, there may have been snow, thick on the bakehouse wall, and my grandfather, who was shoveling the paths, saw him coming from afar and raised his head with a smile, singing softly to himself until he drew level – and announced his decision to leave, “for overseas,” as was said in those days, into the sudden blue and the irreparable distance. You took that plunge into the color and the violence; you left your past on the other side of the sea.
Perhaps in Manon Lescaut, he was astonished by the expression, clear enough to be confused, and the incomprehensible mechanics of the passions that, dumbfounded, he understood, more astonished than by anything he had read until that day, even, in those same pages, the inns and night flights in covered wagons, the daughter lost and son bankrupt, the myriad causes for tears, predestined deaths. Perhaps an old monk (it could almost have been one of those who had long ago transported the relic by donkey beaten and bowed under the reliquary, a ghost among the ghost army of terrified clerics glancing back at the hermitage burning in the tumult of Saracen battle cries – the relic that Juliette, below in the kitchen, now kept with her always), perhaps this old annotator of Benoît whispered to him at random, from the first page that fell open, that “if one of the brothers shows himself to be attached to something, it is important that he be immediately deprived of it,” and that if he himself banishes this thing, all the more bitter but all the more certain will be his salvation.