You are too sensitive of text. It is born to be put to death. Destruction of the order is okay. Celine called it turning tables. I’ve been searching for Journee the last week or so. The fucker is hiding. I need some of that hatred he exudes. He negates everything psychologically. He tears apart the fabric. I don’t think I would have liked to meet him. Perhaps as repulsive as Hitler. A sheer bore up close. I don’t espouse his Nazi leanings, probably convictions. Celine’s bitterness spilled very entertainingly for a few years in the midst of the deep depression. He took advantage of the awful pessimism of that period by offering up Simpliciites of Life, like so many entertainers of that period; obtruse, hysterical, highly Literate, and indeed a genius of Comedy. That same street swagger of an oppressed tough guy matched the pulse of Nazism in Paris. A Bogart, a tall man with a thin face, even gaunt, my grandfather Murphy had a Celinian face, although he was of average height. Aloof, conniving, taking his expansive gifts too seriously. Or is that a Jewish appraisal? If so, I agree with it. The fucker really fucked up! He spent the rest of his life justifying his life, his extremism. You see, he says, Iwas just joking. I never hated Jews. Many of my best friends were Jews. He knew he has used the past tense. He becomes a condescending conniver, a trouble-maker. I enjoyed his later books but they ran the gamit of I am psychotic to being a great seer, a prophet, an eccentric old rightest on the senile side but, dear ladies, watch that ass-grab from the Old Man. He was a pussyman, too. But in the period prior to his inappropriate racist’s comment via pamphleteering, he had been the greatest author of the Twentieth Century for a few years. Just like all of them. Two works of supreme literacy, even Shakespearean at times, in 1934 and in 1936. And after that, becoming an actor and buffoon for the French Nazis who had to have paid him goodly amounts of promotion, adulations and attention to write his racist amusements, or so he always said of the common man.
I always write about this madman. I recognize the genius of his literary style, the best I’ve encounterd. But he threw it all away by becoming one of his characters, and at that, a racist one.