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‘I just think  it w ould be indec en t these day s for wr it er s t o talk of
         any thing else  but violenc e.’  Unsurp risingly, Louis  is the cliché
         lit er ary p artisan. T here is a  long  hist ory  of  re ali sts de fending the
         sanc tity  of realism, roman ticists de fending roman ticism, e t c . e t c.  It  is
         a young writ er’s f aith tha t his  o wn lit er ary  ideas hap p en t o  be the
         c orrec t ones. B ut clearly lit er a ture w ould be a miser able,  boring
         business  if everyone follo w ed Louis ’s advic e. W ha t  is perhap s most
         surp rising is tha t a man so f resh t o  the  c os y lit er ary  elit e he sc orns
         should have adop t ed their ideas. W ha t he  calls for is merely ano ther
         sp ecies  of elitism and  lit er ary e xc lusivity. Ho w in t eresting tha t  the
         maxim of a  ‘lit er ary revolution’   (a t erm which str ictly  means  no thing)
         should be just  as  or more restr ictive than the ‘ lit er ary establishmen t’
         it op p oses. Part of me w onder s if  Louis simp ly  suffer s f rom the
         classic French w eakness for  p ithy and mor ally p omp ous sta t emen ts
         (S artre, Camus, Zola, e t c). A c ondition I  am no t immune t o,  by the
         w ay. E lse w here, without irony,  he re fer s t o  his o wn writings as
         ‘sp ac es  of  objective  truth’. A ll w rit er s  need this w onderf ul  op timism
         in their  p rojects if they  are t o sp end the  long, laborious hour s
         required t o writ e some thing.  Eq ually, they need  t o under stand the
         c on fused and c onc eit ed though t which a w ards  their o wn ideas
         objective truth ye t  denies  it t o o ther s who, c oinciden tally,  disagree
         with them. T his is esp ec ially tr ue  of a writ er whose ‘objective truth’
         is a bag  of  skele tal sociolo gic al in t erp re ta tions. T here is truth  in art,
         there is truth  in  Ed dy , ye t truth  disap p ear s when it, as  Damian G r an t
         writ es, ‘unseasonably asserts itself t o be  so’. G r an t g oes on: ‘T he
         ap p eal  t o the in ferior, demonstr able tr uth,’  –  the aut obio gr ap hical,
         the  sociolo gical, the objec tivity all  p riz ed by  Louis  – ‘is  a distr action,
         a self-injury;  it is the writ er asking  t o  have  hi mself taken a t a  lo w er
         valua tion’.
                S inc e  Ed dy , Louis has p ublished  tw o books and  c on tinues  t o be
         an ur g en t  and c elebr a t ed voic e. Perhap s it  is revealing of where  our
         global  lit er a ture stands tha t its critics and  reader s will hap p ily
         ignore the p rose  if the political  line is dr a wn in the c orrect p lac e.
         For liber als it’s a reaction  t o  the homo g eny they sense  and for
         c onserva tives it’s nervousness over saying any thing embarr assingly
         reac tionary. W hen reading  Ed dy  I w ould sug g est everyone a tt emp t, a t
         least  for a momen t, the imp robable: sep ar a t e your p olitic al sen timen t
         f rom your  artistic  one.




         B ib lio gr aphy
         T he End of Eddy , Edouard Louis
         Real ism (T he C ritic al  Id iom ), Damian G r an t
         Ed ou ard  Lou is I n terview , A ng elique Chrisa fis: h ttp s://www.theguard -
         ian.c om/books/2018/ jun/ 09/edouard-lou -
         is-i-w an t-t o-be-a-writ er-of-violenc e-the-more-you-talk-about-it-the
         -more-you-can-undo-it
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