Foreword Isomorphic to the man, the novel should normally be able to contain everything. Wrong to imagine that such human beings living a purely physical existence. Somewhat parallel to their lives, they constantly ask themselves questions must be – for want of a better term – termed philosophical.
It is the same discussions, interviews, debates… It is even more obviously literary criticism, artistic or musical. Everything should be able to transform into a single book, we would write to the approach of death, this seems a reasonable way of life, happy, and perhaps even possible in practice – to pretty much. The only thing that I actually look really hard to integrate in a novel is poetry. I’m not saying it’s impossible, I say it seems very difficult.
The most obvious thing in common with texts gathered here is that I was asked to write at least, I was asked to write something. They have been published in various periodicals and became untraceable. According to what I just said, I might consider recycling them in a novel. I tried, but I have rarely succeeded, yet I still hold to these texts. It is, in short, the purpose of this publication.
It appears he loved flowers, birds, old neighborhoods of Paris, etc. Love seemed flourish in an atmosphere of freedom, more generally, it was rather for freedom. He wore a hat and smoked Gauloises, it is sometimes confused with Jean Gabin. Indeed it was he who wrote the screenplay for Port of Shadows, Gates of the night, etc. He also wrote the script for Children of Paradise, considered his masterpiece.