{"id":7860,"date":"2021-12-08T16:46:39","date_gmt":"2021-12-08T15:46:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/prod-2018.frictions.co\/?p=7860"},"modified":"2021-12-09T10:13:52","modified_gmt":"2021-12-09T09:13:52","slug":"le-prix-unique","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/prod-2018.frictions.co\/english\/9-to-5-the-time-of-your-life-s4\/the-one-an-only-prize\/","title":{"rendered":"The One an Only Prize"},"content":{"rendered":"
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When he entered the jury of the Anatole France Prize \u2013 whose winner is announced every year on the 1st of May, Labor Day \u2013 Pierre Mao, author of confidential publications, thought he had won the lottery. Yet, the other members of the jury, reunited at Br\u00e9bant, gave him the cold shoulder. He couldn't explain this obvious animosity. Weren't they the ones who had chosen him, to his surprise?
\"Six months after Edgar C\u00e9sar's passing, Pierre Mao is appointed member of the jury of the Anatole France Prize.\" He learned the news through a nut-shell paragraph from Lib\u00e9ration. Livres Hebdo had a lot of trouble writing his biography, combining elements from his blog and illustrated with pictures stolen from his Facebook page.
At the end of lunch, Carole Edm\u00e9e \u2013 jury n\u00b04 \u2013 a little tipsy, finally admitted the reasons behind this unfriendly welcome. In actual fact, Pierre Mahaut was the one selected by the jury to follow Edgar C\u00e9sar\u2019s footsteps as the 6th member. The prize\u2019s general secretary \u200b\u200b\u2013 the absent-minded Roland Fouy, jury n\u00b05 \u2013 had sent a statement with the wrong spelling. The damage was done. Contradicting the statement would bring shame. The unfortunate Pierre Mahaut died a week later from a stroke to general indifference \u2013 a music idol from the sixties who passed away on the same day stole the spotlight...
During the next lunch, Pierre Mao tried to win the jury over \u2013 and make them forget about their blunder \u2013 praising their work that he had made the effort to read. But each praise met uptight smiles: the members of the jury weren't used to reading one another\u2019s work.<\/p>

*<\/p>

A month later, Roland Fouy dropped around forty books in the middle of the table. \u201cThe real fun begins,\u201d exulted Pierre Mao. He blushed when he saw that he had only read one of those works, 'Chronicles of the disaster' <\/span>by Fantine Lapure. When Micheline Zebra, the vivacious Prize president and jury n\u00b03, grabbed the book, the verdict was unambiguous:
\u201cA disaster for the reader!\u201d
\u201cStill, let's take the time to talk about it,\u201d suggested Roland Fouy, ogling towards Pierre Mao. \u201cOur new jury member seemed like he had something more to say\u201d.
\u201cWaste of time,\u201d retorted the president. \u201cIs the chronicle of Mrs. Lapure\u2019s abortions and her difficulties to have a child of any interest to anyone around this table?\u201d
\u201cNonetheless, she did lose her only child,\u201d argued Roland Fouy. Ten years of suffering, a medically assisted reproduction and then this terrible tragedy.\u201d
\u201cThe Anatole France Prize won't give her her dead child back,\u201d concluded Micheline Zebra, dropping the book on the red carpet.
Carole Edm\u00e9e, Spanish translator, essay writer, quoted a sentence from Borges mocking Evaristo Carriego's emotional blackmail, author of sentimental poems: \u201cI present you with despair: if you're unmoved, you're cold-hearted.\u2019
Pierre Mao understood that it would be unwise to flaunt Fantine Lapure's style which reminded him of Duras. The book lay decomposingon the carpet, and no one would save it.
\u201cWell, we are not going to fuss about it for an hour,\u201d said Micheline Zebra. \u2018We have twenty books to eliminate and the maitre d\u2019 is getting impatient.\u2019
After the champagne, Philippe d'Azincourt, chronicler seen on TV and jury n\u00b02, triggered a ripple of laughter when he threatened to go on a hunger strike if his friend's book, Sophie Montjoie, wasn't in the first pick.
\u201cLast time, you threatened to kill your dog,\u201d laughed Micheline Zebra who decided, for all the jury members, to keep the last Montjoie.
For the sake of manners, she added:
\u201cAny opposing views?\u201d
\u201cWhat about Chantal Fissa's book?\u201d Carole Edm\u00e9e suggested...
All of them looked down. The president saw red.
Carole Edm\u00e9e caught a breath and said:
\u201cIt would be difficult not to choose it. Critics all agree. It's her best novel. Even I, to be honest, was convinced, transported. I... I\u2026\u201d
The president was listening, furious. Carole Edm\u00e9e sank into her chair and said in a barely audible voice.
\u201cWell, it's only my opinion\u2026\u201d
\u201cIndeed. It's only your opinion. But it's true that it would be hard to discard it. The Prize\u2019s credibility is at stake. I shouldn't let a... personal dispute influence me. I would be accused of being... biased. Has anybody else read it?\u201d
\u201cNot I,\u201d answered Philippe d'Azincourt, making all the other jury members burst out laughing.
\u201cWe keep Fissa's. I can be fair. Of course, she will not get the prize. But we can give her hope for a few weeks, can't we?\u201d
When they went their separate ways, Pierre Mao gave his phone number to Micheline Zebra and told her it would be nice to have lunch before the next jury meeting. She wrote down the number with a grin and told him she didn't have any business cards left.<\/p>

*<\/p>

Arriving early, Pierre Mao had the pleasure to introduce himself to the great Faustin Azor, jury n\u00b01. He was a writer he admired and had studied at school. If he hadn\u2019t feared being laughed at, he would have even admitted it was his interviews on TV with Bernard Pivot that had inspired him to become a writer.
The old man was polite, even showed interest in him, something no other jury member had. Suddenly, he pointed at the huge suitcase under the table.
\u201cWould you be kind enough to help me? I would like to be done before the others arrive.\u201d
Faustin Azor opened the suitcase. It was overflowing with books, all published in the last few months. The headwaiter held out a letter opener. Pierre Mao copied Faustin Azor and removed all the pages where the authors\u2019 handwritten signatures were. Curious, he started reading. There were cheesy sentences from a former Prime Minister then mistake-ridden praises from a trendy lawyer. He was surprised to read that this author acclaimed by the left-wing intellectual elite had written to Faustin Azor, recognized as a reactionary: \"You are a gift.\" Tired of this collectible of platitudes and sweet-talk written by the Parisian high society, he sped up his task, judging it was humiliating and hoping the other jury members would not arrive early.
\u201cCheck there isn't a banknote, it happens sometimes,\u201d laughed Faustin Azor.
The doyen of the Anatole France Award came to Paris every month to empty his suitcase and have lunch at the Br\u00e9bant.
\u201cI tear our the signatures out of respect for the authors who would risk finding their books at some second hand bookstore. But unlike others, I do keep the signatures. One day, I'll gift them to a museum.\u201d
Pierre Mao asked him about the latest crop of novels and probed him about his preferences. Who did he think about for the award this year?
Faustin Azor let out a little laugh.
\u201cYoung man, life is too short for me to read this clutter of autofictions, travels from fake explorers and sociological novels. I'm at an age where one re-reads. I think I haven't read anything published in the last thirty years.\u2019
\u201cReally? Yet, I read your literary critiques... No later than this week!\u201d
\u201cI like you, Pierre. You're green! I'll explain the job to you one day. You'll give me your card, right?\u201d
He looked at the clock.
\u201cRight on time!\u201d
One of his closest friends, a penniless poet, came in with another suitcase, empty this time. They made small talk. Faustin Azor loved and admired this poet, Alain Tabou, whose books had only a handfull of readers. The poet refused the spotlight, the shady deals. He was what Faustin Azor would have liked to be if the prospect of poverty hadn\u2019t scared him. The Parisian high society was far from imagining that every new book sent to the great writer ended up in the hands of Alain Tabou who, selling them to second-hand booksellers, managed somehow to pay his rent.
\u2018Well, have a nice meal,\u2019 Alain Tabou said as he left with his suitcase full to the rim.<\/p>

Through the window, Pierre Mao saw the other jury members' Uber arrive.
Micheline Zebra's confidence, who had not a good word for any of the books, fascinated Pierre Mao. She seemed to personally know most of the authors whose books were stacked on the table.
\u201cYvan Faizar, senator, minister. And now he thinks he's a writer! We don't give a damn about his haikus! Beat it!\u201d
The book was instantly devoured by the restaurant's carpet.
\u201cIsabelle Marrent? Another one who writes about her banging with What's-his-face. Fired!\u2019
Faustin Azor fished out the book, not to save it, but to check if he wasn't mentioned.
\u201cI would like to keep the last Labb\u00e9!\u201d said Roland Fouy.
\u201cFlorian Labb\u00e9? That snob? That schemer?\u201d
\u201cHis descriptions of Mount Fuji are admirable\u2026\u201d
\u201cLet's stay calm! He took a trip to Japan. So what? He stays one week or two with the Japanese and lays on 300 pages about Mount Fuji? Last year we got stuck with his trip to Colombia because he watched Narcos. No, he's an impostor!\u201d
\u201cIn that case, we keep Marie-C\u00e9cile Figeac. A dry and bland writing. A closed door. It's absolutely wonderful.\u201d
\u201cTell me, Roland, do you think I don't know she's your niece? Do you know the etymology of the word nepotism? I don't need to teach you that social media is ruthless.\u201d
Twenty novels survived this sorting session.
\u201cDon't forget to send me the books I'm missing,\u201d Pierre said quietly to Roland Fouy when the guests were waiting for their Uber.
No answer.
\u201cAnd merry holidays to all.\u201d
No answer.<\/p>

*<\/p>

Pierre Mao was eager to tell the other members that an editor offered him to write a biography on Eug\u00e8ne Fromentin, artist and travel writer, but he felt like it would upset them. He would have liked them to become his friends. The headwaiter filled the glasses and wished them a happy new year.
Philippe d'Azincourt spoke up:
\u201c'Jennifer Aniston and I' has quite a charm... It's the story of a girl who developed her sexuality thanks to the show Friends.\u201d
\u201cI'm done with titles like \u2018Kennedy and I\u2019, \u2018Marilyn and I\u2019, \u2018Hitler and I\u2019...\u201d
\u201cWe shouldn't stop at the title,\u201d said Pierre Mao who had finished the book in the subway. \u201cThis novelist describes her depression remarkably. Without any pathos. I like the passage when she goes into a theater in the Quartier Latin and changes seats 33 times during a Bergman movie. 33 times! It's a novel full of symbolism.\u201d
\u201cT\u00e9l\u00e9rama loved it,\u201d dared Carole Edm\u00e9e, \u201cand if I must say\u2026\u201d
\u201cI would like to intervene,\u201d interrupted Roland Fouy, red-faced. \u201cAs the award general secretary, I must remind you of the rules. Pierre Mao has really used the term without any pathos.\u201d
\u201cYes, we all heard,\u201d said Micheline Zebra in a toneless voice.
Five disapproving sets of eyes glared at Pierre Mao who didn't understand what Roland Fouy meant.
\u201cI'm sorry,\u201d dropped Carole Edm\u00e9e. \u201cAny person who uses the term without any pathos must pay a fine of 100 euros.\u201d
\u201cI didn't know!\u201d
\u201cNo one must be oblivious to the rule!\u201d said Roland Fouy who decided to exclude 'Jennifer Aniston and I' right away.
Carole Edm\u00e9e caught a breath :
\u201cI think, and of course, it's only my opinion, that would give the Award to 'La Fuite'. There is a duality in the title, and I love it. It's the story of an Ecole Normale Sup\u00e9rieure graduate who works for a year at Lidl. One day, her faucet leaks and... she runs away. I loved it, it transformed me.\u201d
Micheline Zebra pouted.<\/p>

*<\/p>

During the next lunch, Micheline Zebra talked extensively about two South American bands she loved, La Sonora Dinamita and La Sonora Mantecera. The jury members bent over the table to watch a YouTube video on the president's phone.
Micheline Zebra was a mystery for Pierre Mao. He ended up finding her quite likeable when she was dancing to the song \"Mala Vida\".
Despite his doyen status \u2013 Micheline Zebra endearingly called him \"the forefather\" \u2013 Faustin Azor was an internet enthusiast. He also loved those songs that reminded him of his literary tours in Cuba or Colombia in the sixties. He drooled, showing them the band covers of Cumbia bands, lascivious women in swimsuits who made the Crazy Horse dancers look like nuns. \"They haven't been affected by the politically correct yet,\" the great writer said before adding: \"Today's world disgusts me so much that I'm not scared of dying anymore.\"
Carole Edm\u00e9e whispered in Pierre Mao's ear:
\u201cOf course, P.C. bores him. This old creep knows what awaits him if he ever tries to pinch the behind of one of his admirers ever again.\u201d
Roland Fouy suddenly stood up, as enlightened:
\u201cWe could give the award to 'Moi aussi', the first novel to be fully dictated using Siri!\u201d
Micheline Zebra stopped her YouTube video and answered, furious:
\u201cAnd next year we could award the first novel fully written on the toilet? Is that what you want?\u201d
Next to 'Moi aussi', more novels found their way abruptly onto the restaurant's carpet. Micheline Zebra waved every book with the skills of an auctioneer. In answer to her grimacing face, everyone showed a thumbs up or a thumbs down and, without arguing, the book joined or not the Sargasso Sea.
At the end of lunch, only five books remained on the table. Pierre Mao hadn't read any of them. He suddenly thought about the South Korean show 'Squid Game' he had seen on Netflix. This literature award really was unique. A massacre game.<\/p>

*<\/p>

The 1st of May luncheon finally arrived.
Through the window, Pierre Mao was observing the pack of journalists trampling in front of the restaurant, some masked up. It was an idea of Martin Cube, who had established the award in the sixties, to make the announcement on Labor Day since the press didn't have anything to get their teeth into on that day.
The five final books had waited on the living room coffee table without him getting a chance to look into it. Exhausted by his Eug\u00e8ne Fromentin biography whose deadline was the 30th of April, he had been disturbed by his daughter\u2019s visit, who had come home from overseas to vote, since, she said, every vote counted to prevent fascism from winning.
To Pierre Mao's greatest surprise, Micheline Zebra announced she hadn't read any of the finalist books. She confessed that this presidential campaign, which had been the dirtiest, foulest she had ever witnessed, had prevented her from being interested in the Anatole France Prize. She then looked at each jury member. None of them had read the books. Roland Fouy justified himself saying he had had to go to the cardiologist. Philippe d'Azincourt\u2019s newspaper had required him for the interview of a comedian's widow . Carole Edm\u00e9e had left the books in her country house. As for Faustin Azor, everyone knew he didn't read any of the selected books.
Micheline Zebra for the first time looked discouraged, tired.
\u201cWe are supposed, I remind you, to only choose books we've read.\u201d
\u201cMy dear,\u201d answered Roland Fouy, you ruled out all the books we liked. I regret to inform you that this final list is only made up of books remaining by default.
Everybody glared at Pierre Mao, who hadn't talked yet.
\u201cOf course, I have read all five of them,\u201d he lied.
The choice really was between four novels since Chantal Fissa\u2019s book, Micheline Zebra\u2019s nemesis, was excluded.
Pierre Mao se lan\u00e7a alors dans un monologue \u00e0 propos des \u00ab Hy\u00e8nes \u00bb, <\/span>Pierre Mao started a monologue about 'Hy\u00e8nes', this huge novel of a thousand pages which had ended up in the last selection without having been defended by anyone. The author, Juliette Sacramentel, was unknown, which was perhaps the reason why Micheline Zebra hadn't knocked her out.
Like the others, Pierre Mao hadn't read the book, but he read the synopsis online. The little information he had found about it and the sudden attention he was subject to, gave him the inspiration he needed.
\u201cIt's a book about us. About our present. It's the romantic translation of observations made by Guy Debord\u201d (Pierre Mao never read 'The Society of the Spectacle' but he had heard about it). \u00ab La Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 du spectacle \u00bb<\/span> mais il en avait entendu parler).
Micheline Zebra listened to him with such a particular focus that it lighted up his imagination. When he spoke, Pierre Mao thought that arousing this woman's interest and respect was all his life was about.
Il avait parl\u00e9 du livre pendant dix bonnes minutes sans en avoir lu une seule ligne mais il s\u2019\u00e9tait montr\u00e9 convaincant. 'Les Hy\u00e8nes'<\/span> He talked about the book for ten minutes without having read any of it, but he knew how to be convincing. Les Hy\u00e8nes was the novel of our time. It augured the dreadful presidential campaign; it announced the dawn of a new age. Juliette Sacramentel was on the edge of a new literary adventure that would still be talked about in a century.
\u201cFor once, a woman takes the prize. It makes me feel incredibly moved,\u201d said Carole Edm\u00e9e.
Micheline Zebra applauded with a little smirk.
\u201cWell, we have our prize. Any opposing views?\"
Then she added:
\u201cConsidering the circumstances, we don't have any choice but to follow your review. So, shall we get dessert?\u201d
The announcement can wait a little.
The press praised the Anatole France Prize\u2019s boldness. 'Les Hy\u00e8nes' <\/span>became a summer hit. Pierre Mao published his Eug\u00e8ne Fromentin biography at the beginning of the new year.
Now that he had a regular column in a newspaper, he started to receive books written by celebrities but, too busy with the writing of a second biography, this time dedicated to Anatole France, he hadn't had the time to read them. Before stuffing his street's book box, he cut away the signings, moved to see people he never met send him their regards.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

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Don't miss the next stories ...!<\/p><\/div><\/div>

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