Write! 2.500 characters a day. Stephen King
The Man From Behind
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Lecture... Scent and Literature Alice Fursac
Scent is often associated with frivolity
and literature with seriousness.
Yet, we know
that the nose makes a much deeper impression on memory
than any of our other senses.
It is the memory organ par excellence.
And without memory, there is no literature.
Reader, have you at times inhaled,
With rapture and slow greediness,
That grain of incense which pervades a church,
Or the inveterate musk of a sachet?
For David Lodge, for example, a novel is always
written in the past tense.
So scent is clearly a major sense.
- Take the night course! We're waiting. - OK.
The Greeks, for example,
thought that perfume
was a diabolical scent.
Yet, that wasn't always the case...
We regret to inform you that we are unable to publish your book...
Hello, this is Mathieu Vasseur.
I've been on hold for your Director of Acquisitions.
Yes. Thank you.
Hello. Mathieu Vasseur speaking.
I'm calling in response to your letter regarding my manu...
Oh, I see. You know. Perfect.
I wanted to contact you directly
because the letter I got seemed like a form letter.
So I wanted to be sure you'd actually read my manuscript.
OK, but you can understand that I'm a bit surprised.
It was a bit abrupt. You can't say it doesn't interest you,
just like that, without any explanation.
No, please! Wait! Please!
Just tell me what doesn't work.
I can rework it, do a rewrite. I can...
Hello?
We inform you that we are able to publish your book...
They want to start showing it next week.
So you've got two or three days to clear it out.
The old man lived here for 35 years.
A charity's taking the furniture.
The care assistant will pick up the wheelchair.
The rest you can just dump.
Shouldn't we save anything?
For the family?
What family? There is no family.
He lived alone and died alone.
Original, huh?
The bedroom.
You do it.
Don't touch the plumbing.
Sure, no problem.
Work Permit Léon Vauban
Algiers, 1958
This morning, I killed a man. I hit the fellagha twice.
The War Journal of a Draftee in Algeria by Léon Vauban
Come here, I need you!
Mathieu!
- Move your arse! - Coming!
Unbelievable!
What a fuckin' slacker!
... Still nothing.
22 August 1956
This morning, I killed a man.
I hit the fellagha twice.
Franck, it's Mathieu.
I'm feeling a little queasy. I won't be able to work today.
Sorry. I'll see you soon.
... his pistol and presses the muzzle...
The End
The sand was black.
Black Sand
Cercle Publishing
Hello.
- Mr Vasseur? - Yes.
Stéphane Marsan, calling from Cercle Publishing. Am I disturbing you?
No, not at all.
I just finished reading Black Sand. I'm still in shock.
I'd love to meet. Unless you've already signed with a publisher.
No. You're the first one I sent it to.
Mathieu!
Could we meet on Thursday the 17th?
Thursday the 17th? Sure.
I'm curious. How old are you?
- I'm 26. - Impressive.
I'm so eager to meet you.
Oh, I'm sorry...
I just remembered, I'm not...
I'm not free the week of the 17th. It clashes with something.
Could we meet at the end of the month?
Of course. Thursday the 31 st?
Perfect.
- On the 31 st, then. - On the 31 st.
Goodbye.
Mobs of men and women, poorly armed fanatics,
barrelled into cities, villages and French forts,
launching veritable massacres.
Jacques Soustelle and I went to those sites at once.
It was really horrific!
Eyes gouged out, disemboweled women,
kids who'd been smashed against walls...
But this is an unusual case.
People generally ask why an author writes.
Your answer is delicious.
I'll say one thing. I write for the opposite of posterity.
I write for an orgasm.
We decide to write...
to speak to the world.
In that case,
I'm obliged to renounce a certain
elegance of style. I'm no Giraudoux.
He dressed his Greek gods in Dior.
I can't clothe my character in Dior.
That's impossible.
For my character...
I've renounced elegance of style.
Any elegance of style...
Character...
My character...
My bedside book?
Good question.
I'd say Martin Eden.
I've always loved characters who force destiny's hand.
16th May: 100,000 French soldiers in Algeria.
30th August: state of emergency.
11 th September: 1 st demonstration in Paris.
French generals:
Challe, Delouvrier, Zeller, Massu, Jouhaud, Salan.
1956: continuous mobilization.
1958: Algerian inter-reform programme.
Spring 1961:
coup d'état the night of 21 st April.
It's as if those events unfolded before your very eyes!
I think it's the writer's job to make you believe the story.
What's so striking is your dry, uncluttered style.
Did you intend that from the start?
Yes. I wanted to broach
a certain kind of truth. A raw truth.
I renounced any elegance of style.
I admire Giraudoux but...
I couldn't put my character in Dior.
That's impossible.
You're quoting Romain Gary, aren't you?
Yes.
I borrow from writers I admire.
Mathieu! May I have a word?
- I'll be right back. - Of course.
The reviews are breaking.
I've never seen such raves.
Even Valérie Enthoven is hailing it as " A powerful novel,
"a brilliant success."
They're even talking literary prizes. You listening?
Yes, I'm listening.
You must meet Mylène Andreotti.
She wants you on her show.
If you could just excuse me for two minutes.
You're right.
Excuse me?
Scent really is deeply lodged in memory.
Even blind, I think I'd have recognized you.
I attended your lecture on Scent and Literature.
- Really? - Yes.
You're part of a very exclusive club.
The hall was pretty empty.
It's a shame. You were really brilliant.
The end wasn't too shocking?
I was leery about that conclusion.
The end? No, uh...
Well, in fact...
I couldn't stay till the end. I had a...
- You had a... - I had a...
- I see. - It clashed with something else.
And you're here tonight to...
My friend's interviewing the author of Black Sand.
Really?
Have you read it?
Forget it.
80% of the people at these receptions haven't read the book.
It's pathetic.
Especially in this case.
Why?
First, for its style.
If you want to understand flat writing,
this book is a paradigm!
The style's dry, direct!
Then it blows you away beyond all expectations.
Really?
Last time I felt that was with Primo Levi.
You probably haven't read him either.
Know what you should do?
No.
Grab a copy of Black Sand, go home and read it.
Mathieu Vasseur!
So delighted! Mylène Andreotti.
Congratulations! Your novel's dazzling.
Thank you so much.
I'd love to have you on my show next week.
I hope you can make it.
I'll see what I can do.
My assistant will call your publicist.
I won't keep you.
Congratulations, again.
Sorry, what were we talking about?
You were taking me for an idiot and egging me on.
- Not at all. - A little. - No, I swear.
Nice meeting you.
Have dinner with me!
That's direct!
I thought you liked my style.
Mathieu!
Someone's calling you.
Three years later
Hey, I'm driving!
Then watch the road!
I knew you'd get here early!
- Hello, sweetheart! - Hello, Mum!
- Good journey? - Yes.
How are you?
So happy to be here.
- Thrilled to have you here! - It's spectacular!
- The worst is you get used to it. - I imagine!
Let's go in for a drink.
A friend of mine owns the local bookshop.
He'd love you to do a signing.
- Would you mind? - Not at all!
I bought it at auction, five years ago.
It's the gun Prussian generals used.
This one dates from 1779.
It's the first pistol designed for the navy.
You're not obliged to share my husband's taste for war.
Most great scientific advances
are the result of military research.
And this...
is my finest piece.
These pistols belonged to Pushkin himself.
- Superb, aren't they? - Magnificent.
- Dad, give him a break. - I'm interested.
- Let's go and have a look at the sea. - Go ahead.
See you later.
I loved hiding in here when I was little.
Excuse me.
Call from Stéphane Marsan
Answer it.
OK.
Stéphane, how are you?
Mathieu, we have to talk. Seriously.
Hello? Can you hear me?
Not very well. I'll go outside.
I can't hear you.
I heard you asked for another advance. Know how much you've already received?
Yes, I know.
This can't go on, Mathieu.
Take it easy, Stéphane. It's not that serious.
Yes, it is. That's the largest advance I've ever given an author.
The book's going great.
If I don't have something by the end of the week,
our legal department will make you pay it back.
You can't do that to me.
It's been three years, and you haven't sent one line.
People are starting to wonder.
I'm just reworking a few passages.
Finished or not, send me what you've got!
I'm sick of this. That's enough!
- Are you there? - Yeah.
I'm sorry. You leave me no choice.
Send me the manuscript.
Hiding things from me?
Not at all.
I sent Stéphane my manuscript.
He was giving me notes.
You never told me!
Yeah.
What'd he say? Is he happy?
Yeah, he seems to be.
Great!
When do I get to read it?
Soon.
OK.
The Secret Manual of the Art of War
And your trip to Japan? Was it fruitful?
Beyond expectation!
I made some great auction deals.
- To buy or sell? - Both.
I put you in your favorite room.
Perfect, Hélène. How long you staying?
Don't know. How long can you stand me?
There you are!
This is Stan, Dad's godson, whom I told you about.
- Not too much, I hope. - Mathieu. - Delighted.
Pleasure to meet you.
Stanislas called yesterday. He wanted to surprise you.
Finally you get to meet. After all this time.
Alice raves so much, I feel like I know you already.
You can be proud.
Proud of what?
Of taming our Alice.
Not everyone's up to that.
I should know.
I'm not sure "taming" is the right word but...
Mathieu,
would you like a drink?
- Gladly. Thank you. - Have a seat.
Thank you.
To you, Mathieu!
And, although I'm not the first, to your novel.
It's breathtaking.
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
I forgot.
This is for you.
How sweet. You shouldn't have.
Magnificent!
- The 1887 edition? - First French edition.
Where'd you find this rarity?
- At an auction in The Hague. - Splendid!
You couldn't have pleased me more.
Give me a kiss.
What about your gift?
Your gift?
I forgot it.
- Sorry. - No big deal.
Are you listening?
Did you call her?
No. What does she want?
You know what she wants - an interview, an article...
To put you in her magazine!
Why do you keep saying no to them all?
No answer.
With all my love, Alice
Don't save
The Man From Behind
by Marc Eden
Sorry...
I can't find my fags.
Your what?
Got any cigarettes?
I think so. Look in my bag.
Thanks.
What's this?
The Man From Behind.
Stéphane asked me to read it. He wants my feedback.
But I don't have time.
Want me to read it?
Don't bother with that.
It's no bother.
You sure?
Yeah. I'll tell you what I think.
- That's sweet, thanks. - My pleasure.
Keep at it!
Thanks.
How's it going?
Beg your pardon?
Your novel? How's it going?
OK.
Happy with it?
Yeah, it's...
It's taking shape.
Great.
Did Alice tell you that I know Algiers?
No, I didn't know.
My dad was assigned there for years.
Right.
- You'd never been there, before writing Black Sand, right? - No.
- Never ever? - Never ever.
It's unsettling.
The details, the descriptions, the atmosphere...
I did a lot of research and documentation.
I imagine.
What are you writing about now? If I'm not being indiscreet...
No, you're not being indiscreet but...
It's a bit soon to discuss.
I understand.
The second's always the hardest.
Must be a lot of pressure.
Yes and no.
Alice is proud of you.
But you know that.
She sets the bar high.
I'm bugging you. I'll let you work.
Can't wait to read it.
Coming on the boat tomorrow?
No, I have to work.
You need a break.
- Will you give me a hand? - Yeah.
Did you start that manuscript?
I read 50 pages.
And?
I'll tell you when I'm done.
OK.
Does it seem good, so far?
- Frankly, I couldn't get through it. - Really?
It's insincere, uninspired...
I don't see how Stéphane could publish that.
The difference between a good writer and a bad one
is judgment.
When a good writer's bad, he chucks it.
More and more, I realize that a real writer is rare.
Not everyone has your talent.
Now he goes out at seven every morning.
My cardiologist is thrilled.
- Mr Vasseur? - Yes?
Ms Masson, Private Banking. Did you get my messages?
Yes. Sorry, I was going to call you back.
Your account is so overdrawn, it's alarming.
It's way over your limit!
I know. I'm expecting a transfer any day now.
It'll be resolved soon.
The sooner the better! As of today,
we can no longer cover your debits.
I just told you, I'm expecting a transfer.
Please, see to it. It's in your interest.
Wait, I just need a little time...
I'll look after her.
I know.
I was so scared!
- You OK? - Yeah.
One last question.
Can you describe the two assailants?
Fairly tall...
One was stocky. But...
they wore hoods, so I couldn't see their faces well.
We've never had a carjacking.
We'll look for witnesses.
I'll call if I have any news.
- How do you feel? - I'm OK. - You sure? - Yeah, I swear.
- But you're hurt? - They've stitched me back together.
You really scared me.
How could you not back up? You lost everything?
It's no picnic for me either!
I'll give you a little more time.
I want a manuscript by September. Is that clear?
- Very clear. - You sure?
I promise, Stéphane.
I'm counting on you. And make backups!
Will do.
Talk to you soon.
Hello.
Hello?
I'm glad you're in one piece.
How do you feel?
Fine. More scared than hurt.
I called my friend, the chief constable. He's going all out.
You shouldn't have bothered.
What do you mean? We care about you.
Want to cancel that book signing?
- No, I'm fine. - You sure? - It'll be a nice change.
It'll be fine.
I have great esteem for you.
You have no inherited wealth. What you have,
you've earned.
Not everyone can say that.
I'm a little annoyed you stole my daughter!
I'll have to get used to that.
But I'm pretty lucky.
I could've done worse.
I'm the lucky one.
It's rare to find true love.
Do you love your wife?
Yes.
I'm grateful to her for taking me as I am.
Women always figure out who we really are.
Well, it's late.
You got a letter this morning.
Hélène put it aside.
Here it is.
Try to get some rest.
I will. Good night.
Good night.
First novel, a leap into the abyss...
For my daughter, Julia.
Fine.
- How old is she? - 20.
- Mad about literature? - And history! - Great.
- Thanks so much. - Thank you.
Who's it for?
Léon Vauban.
A mutual friend, I believe.
Don't know him. You're mistaken.
Violating a dead man's memoirs...
- Hello. - Hello.
Excuse me for one second.
This gentleman's praising your novel.
His friend fought in Algeria
and was very impressed.
Really?
Very much so. He saw himself in your story.
Mr Vasseur!
A few more people would like you to sign their books.
Be right there.
- Goodbye. - Goodbye.
Thank you for the dedication.
- Sure you don't want a lift? - It'll do me good to walk.
See you later.
What do you want?
He was a genius, don't you think?
Who the fuck are you?
And you, Mathieu? Know who you are?
The leather journal under the blankets. Remember?
What do you want?
50,000 euros.
Are you insane?
Think of it as insurance.
I don't have that kind of money!
Your girlfriend and her family... I'm sure they'd help you.
Out of the question.
Then I can only see two options.
Either you tell them everything or I do.
Fine.
It'll be your word against mine.
As you like.
I'm sure they'll find my story fascinating.
Wait! Don't do that.
Let's talk about this.
That's quite a load you're carrying.
You must suffer enormously.
I'm your one chance, Mathieu.
Your chance to pay for what you've stolen.
You'll feel relieved. You'll see.
Trust me.
I'll wait for your call.
You kids should come along!
Then maybe Hélène will agree to spend
a few nights aboard.
That'd be great. It's gorgeous there.
We'll be there for two weeks. Come whenever.
Mathieu's never been to the Cyclades.
- Never? - No, never.
It's certainly inspirational.
Especially Santorini.
Remember?
Mathieu!
Telephone!
Léon Vauban.
Excuse me.
Hello.
It's been two days. You haven't called.
You can't call me here!
You don't answer your mobile.
Don't call here!
Got the money?
No, I don't.
I need more time.
Why don't I just join you for cocktails on the terrace?
Where the fuck are you?
Hello?
Really want me to stop by Daddy-In-Law's?
We'll make a clean breast of it.
No, wait! There are guns.
Collectors' items.
They're worth a fortune!
What would I do with those?
I tell you, they're worth at least 50,000.
I've got no cash, so it's that or nothing.
Okay, Sunday at three.
My compliments to your girl.
She's lovely in yellow.
A problem?
No.
Everything's fine.
Who was it?
The publisher's lawyer.
He has our number?
Stéphane must have given it to him.
What did he want?
An error on my advance.
No big deal.
Can I use your computer? I'm working late tonight.
I'll be in touch.
- Goodbye, sir. - Thank you.
- So? - Nothing.
They went over it with a fine-tooth comb.
Mum said to get an alarm!
So did the insurance guy.
Thank God they left my Pushkins.
Let's join Mum at the beach. I need some air.
Coming?
No, I'm going back to work.
See you later.
- Let me explain. - Let me by. - Don't touch me!
Listen, you bastard!
You'll never see Alice again!
Never!
Stan?
Teddy!
Teddy, come here!
Mathieu!
Help me with dinner?
Be down in a minute.
OK.
Mathieu, have you seen Stanislas? We can't find him anywhere.
No.
I heard him talking on the phone ten minutes ago.
- Isn't he in his room? - No. His things are gone.
He left?
Apparently.
So?
He left without a word?
It's not the first time.
He's got a nerve! He could have told us.
I'll call him.
Voicemail.
Stan, it's Alice.
You could have said goodbye!
I hope you've got a good reason.
Anyway, lots of love. Call us, please.
I don't believe this!
"Sorry. Unforeseen development.
"I'll explain later. Apologise
"to your folks for me. Love, Stan."
See? What did I say?
Is this one of Mum's wines?
No, it's not Italian.
Definitely a serious Bordeaux.
Yes, delicately woody...
Mathieu!
Your nose is bleeding.
Yes. It is.
- Excuse me. - Want me to come?
No, don't bother.
Go with him.
No, don't worry. I...
It must be the heat. I'll be OK.
You OK?
Yeah, I needed some air.
What's wrong, Mathieu?
Nothing...
I just got overheated.
You're so tense.
It's my novel.
- Your phone keeps ringing. Is there a problem? - No.
Teddy, stop!
What's with him?
That's enough! Take him.
Just fucking take him and go!
Leave me alone.
Let me work! Let me breathe!
Shit!
A duel pistol.
Got the other one?
Looks bent.
Lefaucheux system, 1865.
Not bad.
You an antiques dealer now?
I did what you asked me. Now get lost!
I'm a soldier.
Like my father.
My father died in Algiers in '62.
He was Léon Vauban's comrade-in-arms.
Nice daddy-in-law, lending you his BMW!
You're part of the family now.
Rest up, Mathieu.
You look exhausted.
There you are! I looked everywhere.
Anything wrong?
What did you do last night?
I worked.
I couldn't sleep. I worked late.
- All night long? - Yeah.
I got a lot done.
Stop.
Stop lying.
What are all those calls about?
What calls?
Are you seeing someone else?
No. What nonsense!
Why do you say that?
I'm pregnant.
How long have you known?
- That's wonderful. - No, it's not!
I don't know you anymore! You're not here!
- I'm here... - No, you're not! - Alice, calm down.
Let me explain.
- No explanations! - Calm down!
Leave me alone!
Alice!
Open the door, Alice.
Alice, open it!
Open the door!
Listen to me.
Alice, I am here for you, I swear! You're wrong!
I'm here.
You want to know the truth?
I've been crazy about you since I first saw you.
That's the truth.
But you couldn't even see me because I was nobody.
Then Black Sand changed everything.
The day we met was the happiest day of my life.
Alice...
People are wrong about me.
I'm not the writer they think. Everything I write is shit. Crap.
I'll never make it!
I'm just afraid of losing you.
That's it! I'm afraid of losing you.
CHAPTER 1
He awoke and realised he was no longer the same.
Writing is a gift...
... it was a curse...
... one of not succeeding...
Shams
The day after the robbery?
- Think they're linked? - Possibly.
Mr Vasseur was also assaulted...
That's quite a lot.
- Weren't you worried when he just disappeared? - Not really.
He often did that. He sent us a text after he left.
Did any of you see or hear him leave?
I did.
I heard him walk down the hall, speaking to someone, on the phone.
What time was that?
I don't remember...
About 5 o'clock.
I was working next door.
Excuse me for saying this but...
His body was well preserved.
We found skin fragments. Fragments that don't match his DNA.
A lot. As if he'd clawed his assailant.
The DNA will speak, Mr Fursac.
We'll proceed in concentric circles.
First you, his loved ones.
Then your neighbors, people who live in the area,
down-and-outs and so on.
I assure you, with the Chief Constable on our side,
I'll submit half the population
to DNA profiles, if I have to.
We'll find him. It's just a matter of time.
If you'd all like to leave,
tell Mr Fursac that your DNA samples can be taken in Paris.
But soon. Monday, at the latest.
I'll tell him. Thank you.
We try to hide things but they always resurface.
You'll have to pay again, Mathieu.
I can't anymore.
Sure you can.
You'll see, you'll feel lighter.
I'll go pack.
You leaving?
We're joining Stan's parents in London.
Tomorrow morning.
Mind if I meet you in Paris on Monday?
No, of course not.
I'll go and see if Mum needs help.
I called Annie. She'll close up the house tomorrow.
OK.
Goodbye, Mathieu.
Goodbye, Hélène.
Thanks for the car.
Sure.
I'll drive back tonight and leave the keys with your concierge.
Thank you, Mathieu.
See you soon.
Promise to drive carefully.
Of course.
Here.
Your novel?
You finished!
I've never been so nervous about anyone reading my work.
I'll call as soon as I do.
I love you.
I know I'll see you in three days but...
...that suddenly feels so far away.
You'd better go or you'll miss your plane.
Go!
So what's in the apartment exactly?
Antiques, paintings, cash...
Everything you can think of.
- When do the parents get back? - Monday.
Are you going to sulk all the way to Paris?
I'm not your enemy, Mathieu.
No more than they're your family.
What are you doing?
Stop.
Stop!
... a sharp increase of 11.6% in one year.
A newsflash on the cultural front...
Author Mathieu Vasseur was killed in an automobile accident, two days ago.
A reputedly dangerous road and excessive speed
may have led to that tragedy.
Vasseur burst onto the literary scene
with his first novel, Black Sand,
which garnered the Renaudot Prize and popular success.
He was one of the most prominent writers...
Come on, guys. We don't have all night!
Two years later
Hold onto the carpet!
10, 20, 40, 50...
150. Here.
I may have another job on Wednesday.
Shams
A PERFECT MAN