An Interview With Marguerite Duras

Board of Regents of the University of Wisconsin System
An Interview with Marguerite Duras

Author(s): Germaine Brée, Marguerite Duras and Cyril Doherty
Source: Contemporary Literature, Vol. 13, No. 4 (Autumn, 1972), pp. 401-422
Published by: University of Wisconsin Press
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AN INTERVIEW WITH MARGUERITE DURAS
Conductedby GermaineBree*
An interview withMargueriteDuras is a memorableevent.This one

tookplace lastfallin herapartment on theLeftBank; a mutualfriend
Jean-LouisJacquetwas the second interlocutor. (His questionsare
markedQ.*) Small,dark,sturdy,warm,and forthrightly brusquein
manner,MargueriteDuras is alwaysunpredictable. People walkedin
and out; thetelephonerang;interrupted, theconversation rebounded
in unexpecteddirections.Duras' writingtoo has steadilydeveloped
in unpredictable ways.On thetablelay themanuscript of the strange
"text"shementions, nowpublishedunderthetitleL'Amour.Andlove-
indeed,the need, possibility,
and impossibility of love-is the theme
underlying all herstrangelyhaunting work. With thirtyyearsoffiction
writing behind her, constantlyremolding the forms she workswith,
Duras cannotnow be classifiedunderanylabel. Since 1959, whenshe
wrotethescriptforAlain Resnais'Hiroshimamonamour,withcharac-
teristicpassionshe has becomeinvolvedwiththecinema.Theaterhas
nevercaughtherimagination in thesame way,in spiteof the success
in 1960 of Des journees entieresdans les arbres,with Madeleine
Renaud in thelead part.
Bor inIndochina,whereshelivedsomeeighteenyearsand began
to write,MargueriteDuras has always been an outspokenanti-
colonialist,and forsomeyearsa militant communist whosebreakwith
thePartyfindsitsexpressionin thestrangely hauntingAbahn,Sabana,
David whichshe discussesin the interview.Generous,she is always
to be foundamongFrance'sleftistintellectuals; butshe does notintel-
lectualizea positionwhichshe feels,lives,and expressesthroughthe
situations,characters,and dialoguesin her writing.Whetherfiction,
drama,orfilmherworkis impressive in itsuniquenessand scope . (GB)
*The interview,conducted in French, was translatedby Cyril Doherty.
CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE I XII, 4
Q. I shouldlike,firstof all, to ask you whetherall yourworkshave
appearedin English.In the last twentyyearsor so you have written
aboutfifteenworksthatcan be callednovelsor stories,abouttenplays
I
that, believe,have all beenperformed in France.Abouthowmanyof
all theseworkshave appearedin Englandor in English?
A. All of them,I think.
Q. So, yourEnglishreaderscan see yourworkas a whole.In your

opinion,is therean organiclinkfromone workto another?
A. I don'tthinkthereis a "current"thatone could trace.Perhaps
that'snottherightwordto describesomekindof underlying meaning.
At anyrate,it doesn'tmatter.I thinkthatthereare different
periods.
Q. Different
developments?
A. Yes.
Q. That are quitedistinct?

A. a break.
Yes. For example,Moderatocantabileconstitutes
Q. I noticedthattheterm"novel"has disappearedfromyourworks.
The lastone to be so termedwas Le Vice-Consul.
A. But that'sfine.
I hadn'tnoticedthatmyself.
Q. I had wonderedwhether or notyourdroppingthetermwas inten-

tionaland whetheryou meant to make a distinction
concerningyour
presentworkswithregardto thenovelform.
A. I droppedtheword"novel"forthelasttwodeliberately.
It seemed
the
to methattheyweren'texactlynovels,given wayin whichtheterm
is used in present-day
productions.
Q. theyare stories?
Nevertheless,
A. It's just somethingI happen to do easily. They are closer to
recitsthantonovels,itseemsto me.
yourrecitstell a story.Could you tell us what a

Q. Nevertheless,
is
story foryou?
402 1 CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE
A. You mean a storywitha beginning,
a development,
and an end?
Q. Something happensin all thesenovels.I was goingto ask you the

questionwith respectto thelasttwo.Whatreallyhappens?
A. Yes, butin thetwobooksDetruireand Abahn,Sabana, David the
substanceofthenovel,in theBalzacian senseoftheword,is extremely
reducedand almostskimpyat the start.Only a fewcolorsare given;
theplace is not namedbut onlydescribed.Therefore, it seemsto me
thatbecause of thesparsenessofthesetting, thesetalesbreakwiththe
traditionalnovel. It is specifically
in the effortthatthe readermust
make, with the littlethatis givenhim,thatthe breakwiththe usual
typeof noveloccurs.I have alwaysbeen struckby therichnessof the
novelsI readin comparisonwithmine.
Q. One ofyourconcernsseemsto be to choosea subjectmatterwhich

is, as you say, meager,but whichis nonethelessrich in its powerof
suggestion. In otherwords,as soon as one beginsto read,fromthevery
firstword,one is grippedby thescenario,thesetting.But whydo you
go to suchlengthsto stripthenovelof itssubstancesinceevidently in
workslike Un Barragecontrele Pacifiqueyouwerecloserto thetradi-
tionalnovel?
A. Yes, indeedI was. Le Marin de Gibraltar,in factall thenovels
rightup to Moderatocantabile,weremuchmoreprolific.Since Mod-
erato,I have triedto workwithwhatnovelistshave usuallyneglected.
Q. Thatis?
A. The positiveeffect, or theresults.Take anythingat all, a family
scene, an unusual a a
incident, storm, discussion, a love affair,and so
on. Whatinterests me is the area whichthesethingsperturband which
is as yetunknowntome.WhatI havealreadyexploredinmyfirst books
no longerinterests me at all.
Q. In thatsense,then,thereis a linkbetweenyourfirstworksand
thosewhichfollowevenifit'sonlybytheelimination
ofwhatyouhave
alreadyexplored.
A. Fromthatpointofview,yes.One could say thatDetruiredit-elle
overand againstLes PetitsChevauxde Tarquinia.
was written
Q. How do you mean?

A. Because Detruireworksin depthwhatLes PetitsChevauxmerely
DURAS 1 403
outlined.In the backgroundof Les PetitsChevaux thereis already
something ofDetruiredit-ellewhichI had totallyoverlooked.
Q. Les PetitsChevaux goes back quite a way. Betweenthemand

Detruirethereare severalnovels,aren'tthere?
A. Therecertainly are. People generallylike them,but as faras I'm
I no longercareforthem.
concerned,
Q. Areyouremovedfromall ofyourpastnovels,in thatsense,or are

theresomewhichstayverymuchwithyou?
A. Some stillremainveryclose to me; forexample,Le Ravissement
de Lol V. Stein.
Q. That's an extraordinary book and I want to talk about it in a

moment.At leastit is one ofyourmostmysterious.
A. And Le Vice-Consul...
Q. Also is exceedingly
mysterious. The extraordinary
character,the
...
atmosphere they seemto be quiteclose to you?
A. Veryclose,and, indeed,totallypresentto me. Detruireand even
Abahn,Sabana, David.
Q. Those are bothverystrangetoo. Perhapswe could discussthem

I shouldliketo ask you a fewmoregeneralquestions.
in turn.But first
You and Beckettare perhapstheonlyrenownednovelistsof thefifties
notto formulate a theoryofthenovel,abouttheartofwriting and the
taskof thewriter.
A. There are also Genet and Des Forets.We are classifiedas the
"outsiders"of the novel in thissense because we have no theoryof
thenovel.
Q. Did you beginto writewhenyouwerein Indochinaor whenyou

werein France?
A. I alwayswrote.
Q. Always?Even as a child?
A. Yes. Fromtheage oftwelve.
404 | CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE
Q. Whatdid youwriteabout?
A. About discoveries,as everyoneelse does.
Q. Whatgotyou started?
A. I don'tknow.
Q. Mightithave been loneliness?

A. I was livingat an outpostway out in the countryin Indochina.
Q. in Un Barragecontrele Pacifique?
Would thatbe reflected
A. Barrageis entirelyautobiographical. I was livingfar away from
Saigon in the countrywith mymother, who was a widowwiththree
children,and practicallyall I read weremyschool books.
Q. about ...
And youbeganby writing
a poem aboutwinter.I had neverseen
A. Aboutwinter.I remember
a winter.
Q. Your writing themled to theimaginary.It seemsthatin all your

novelsyoustartwithsomething quitebanal whichthenbecomeshighly
imaginative,thendevelops almostbeyondthe imaginable,in short,
reachesthelevelofmystery.
A. Perhaps,butI don'tfeelit thatway.
Q. You don'tfeelthestoryas ...

A. Not as imaginary. witha diseaseof
It is as ifI had been afflicted
the eyes,witha deformation of sightwhichis almosttotal,so thatI
recognizerealityonly in its simplestterms,almostto the point of
naivete.
Q. And thisyou discoveras thestorydevelops?

A. Yes.
Q. Do youhave anysensebeforehand ofhowthestorywillgo?

A. It's as thoughit werethere,beforehand.I knowonlythatit has
alwaysbeenthereand thatit is thereforeveryoneto see. One has only
to discernit and I maketheeffort.
to makean effort
DURAS 1 405
Q. At any rate,I've alwayshad the impressionof an extraordinary
change in dimensionfromdaily routinesto the perceptionof some
fantastic
qualityin thecharacters.
A. You have?
Q. Yes. Two ofyournovelsarepermeated bytheatmosphere ofIndo-

china: in a directway,Un Barragecontrele Pacifique,whichis a very
beautifulnovel,and, in an indirectway, Le Vice-Consulwhich,for
me, is a workfullof unusualpoetry.It's one of thoseworksthatcon-
tinueto be haunting.
A. I preferLe Vice-Consulto Lol V. Stein.Lol V. Stein,fromthe
pointofviewofmadness,is almosta regionalist novel.It's a domainof
madnessin whicha personis involved,whereasit seemsto me thatLe
Vice-Consulis no longerregionalist in thatsense.Madnessis whatthe
Vice-Consulis submerged in. This anguishis an anguishof interest to
Do
everyone. you findthisto be the case?
Q. The book fascinatesme butI don'tknowwhetherI fullyunder-

standthe Vice-Consul'sdilemma.I realize thatthe man is haunted,
who shoots...
A. Who shootsintosuffering thathe
itself.It isn'tonlyat suffering
shoots.He shootsat thewhole world;at least I thinkthat'swhathe
does.
Q. This raisestheissue of destruction

and revolt,whichhas so im-
portanta rolein yourwork.
A. concernsinceLol V. Stein.
It has becomean overriding
Q.* To returnto whatyou weresayingearlier,you mentionedthat

you tryto getclose to realityin itsmostnaivetermsand I noticethat
in ordinaryconversation thesamethinghappens.The simplerthething
is, themore impressiveitbecomes. You are theonlypersonI knowwho
can say,"I am goingto eat,"and itmeanssomething almost
terrifying,
stupendous.The moreyou simplify theexpression,thegreateritscon-
tentofmystery.
A. That'swellobserved.
Q.* One noticesit,butone can't....

A. I feelthatway.
Q. Whatare you workingon now?
A. Justa text.It can'tbe called anythingelse. And in a verymathe-
maticalway, a littlelike Abahn. One could say thatthe textis pure
I have ceased to understandwhat I am writing.When a
imbecility.
certainmusicis present,I knowthatthetextis progressing. Whenthe
musicstops,I stop.Whenit beginsagain,I beginagain.
Q. Music is oftenpresentin yournovels.For instance,thereis the

songof thebeggargirlthatrecursthroughout Le Vice-Consul.
A. Thatsongis partofthemajormusicalthemethatreappearsin the
mainstory,theone thatis morefullyembodiedthanthatofthebeggar
girl.Let me justsay thatthegirl'slifeis beyondthestory'slimits.It is
theterrainupon whichthestoryof theVice-Consulis builtand with-
outthegirl,nothingis left.WhentheVice-Consulshoots,it is in order
to destroysuffering. He does what Bretononce advised: at twenty,
thereis onlyone wayout,to go intothestreetand shootat randominto
the crowd.If theVice-Consulcan say thator do it, it is because the
girlexists.
Q. and hersongis wovenintoeverything.

The girlliveswretchedness
A. Yes, that'sit.
Q. Could youtalkaboutthethemeofdestruction? In Le Vice-Consul

as you just said, destruction is meant as a revoltagainstsuffering.
Wasn'tthisrevoltalreadypresentin Un Barragecontrele Pacifique?
In yourdescription of the littleIndochinesechildren,it was veryap-
parent.
A. Yes, quiteconcretely.
Q. And in Detruiredit-elle,forinstance,what kind of destruction

wouldyou say is at work?
A. In thefirstplace thatof thewriter,
I believe.
Q. Writersoftenappear in novelstoday,but thereare veryfew in

yours.In Detruire,thereis Stein;Max Thor isn'ta writer,or, is he a
potentialwriter?
A. He is connectedwithwriting. He is a teacher.I don'tsee how one
cannotbe a writer(I meanin thebroad senseoftheterm).I knowall
DURAS | 407
kindsofpeoplewhodon'twriteandwhoarewriters. By thatI mean
thattheworldpassestous bywayofthem.Theyhanditon;theydon't
justendureit.Thereare manypeoplewhowriteand whoaremuch
farther
frombeingwriters thanpeoplewhodon't.One can writevery
wellwithouttheblankpage.
Q. Butjustthesame,thewriter that
mustusewordsordo youthink
andperception
emotion alonecount?
A. You havetousewordsin ordertobreakthem;youhaveto take
thatstep.I feelthatI amwriting all thetime.Obviously,youwillsay
thatI feelsomelack.I trynottowrite;formerly, I wrotea gooddeal
andnowI trytowrite less.WhenI don'twrite forawhile,I feela lack,
thelackquitesimplyof thetable,of thepositionthatI'm in at this
moment. I havethefeeling thatI neverstop,butI knowlotsofpeople
whodon'tstopeither.
Q. Eventhosewhodon'twrite?
A. Yes.
Q. Is itan impulse kindofper-

towritethatyoufeelora compelling
ception?
A. A certain silence, wayofseeingthings.
a certain
perhaps,
Q. Butwhatstarts youon a book?

A. Thatis an areawhichis veryobscure.
Q. Butdoessomething moodsthatmake
orientyoutowardspecific
foryoutobeginyourstories?
itpossible
A. Sometimes at all,sometimes
nothing a meredetail.For example,
in L'Apres-Midide MonsieurAndesmas,itwas a terracein theforest.
I sawthathouse.In fact,I hadbeentakentovisititsometimebefore.
Yearswentby,perhaps twoyears, beforeI wrotethenovel.Theterrace
stayedtherefora long time and thenpeoplebeganto appearon it.
Thentheybeganto speaktoeachotherandthatis howthebookwas
born.Veryoftenit'sa matter ofa clear-cut
detail.
Q. Andatpresent whatis thedetail?

A. Now,it'sthebeachatTrouvilleatebbtide.
andyousaidthatthatis your
aboutdestruction
Q. We weretalking
onlytheme
now. Whatkindof is takingplacein Detruire
destruction
dit-elle?
A. Thedestruction ofthethingthatconcealswhatI describe. I mean
I trytobe as sincere It'sas ifliterature
as possible. up to pointhad
this
maskedthings. For example,takea novelof thenineteenth century,
any one at all.Marie-Louisewas faithfultoherhusband; shefelta love
forhimthatwas deepandloyal.Thathas no meaning whatsoever. It
doesn'texist.
Q.* Or itno longerexists.

A. It doesn'texist.Whatdoesa faithfullovemean?Love is a thing
thatmustbe brought tolifeeachday.One generalizes
theword"love"
tothepoint-howshallI putit-whereitbecomesa substantive.What
is a general
term?To gofrom lovetoa particular
love,do youseewhat
I mean,is an abstract
andartificial
step.
Q. Love is thetheme, oroneofthemainthemes inDetruire....

A. Well,Detruire describesa womanat a particular
moment witha
man, a moment is
that get
fleeting-you thecolorand of
meaning love
better
infinitely inwhatshesaysthanifyoureadthatherlovewasfaith-
fulanddeep.One mustalwaysgo backto theworldofthesensesin
orderto destroythestraitjacketof style.And thatmeansback to
touchand sight;beginto touchand to see ... yes.In Detruire,there
is a themeoflovealongwitha themeofdestruction.Thereis a pres-
ence,a searchforloveora presence
oflove.Butloveis neverdefined,
never.No generalizationis made aboutit. The lovertouches,is
touched;he seesand looks.You can'tdefinethatlove or classify
it.
Q. But whatdrawsthesecharacters to ElizabethAlione?Whydo

seek
they heroutlater?Why theypursueher?
do
A. Becausesheis theobjecttobe destroyed.
Q. Butwhy?
A. Becausesheis completely Sheis married.
self-deceived. Shehasa
child.Don'tyousee initthestory ofguilt?Shewasexpecting a baby;
shelovedthedoctorwholookedafterher.The childdies,andso she
is guilty.
All thatmustbe destroyed.Buthow?Notby an activeor
traditional She
militancy. is tobe bywhatcouldperhaps
destroyed pre-
DURAS i 409
becalleda "maieutic";
tentiously itisAlissawhoapproachesEli7abeth,
asksherquestionsaboutherself,
andthusforceshertodestroyherself.
Elizabethanswers theyoungerwoman'squestions and,to the extent
thatshereplies, herself.
purifies
Q. Shecouldthenmakeherself
over?
A. Certainly.
Likeeveryone
else.
Q. Is thatdestruction?
It'sa destruction
basedonfellowfeeling.
A. Yes; themeaning
of Detruire
is ofgeneralor universal
import.
Q. You said a moment

ago thatthebookinvolved
thedestruction
ofthewriter?
A. By thatveryfactand simultaneously. In otherwordsElizabeth
wouldappearquitedifferentlyifthewriting hadbeencastin a tradi-
tionalform.Shewouldbe described. She'demerge in someplaceat a
given moment. She wouldthen be shown somewhere else.And her
destructionwouldtakeplaceelsewhere In
again. my book everything
takesplaceatthesametime.Sheisseenatthebeginning ofherdestruc-
tion.Anditis herdestruction
onlythatshowsup whatshewas.You
don'thavetogo intoherbedroom orobserve heradultery.
Sheis there
in frontof us and shespeaks.She answers.Thatis perhapswhatis
so strange.
Q.* Butit'salmosttheopposite
ofdestruction.
A. You haven'tread Detruire?
Q.* No,I haven't.

Q. It's an extraordinarybook. Amongotherthings,it's abouta
womanwhosleeps.The themeof madnesstoo oftenrecursin your
novels,forexampleinL'AmanteAnglaise;butthereis alsothetheme
of sleep.Peoplesleepand are awakenedeitherby a questionor by
someone's arrival.
A. Yes,I believethatanyonecan awakenat a singlesentence.
Q. Andthatmostofthetimetheysleep?
A. Yes. Flizabethis asleep,justas literature
is asleep-in thesame
way.Sheis enmeshed ina mechanism thatgoesbacktothenineteenth
centuryand she nevergetsout.
Q. Insofaras sheis a characterin a novel....

A. Yes. It's thesaid and thesaying,thatwhichsignifies and whatis
signifiedat the same time-to put it in of
terms the today...
critics
butI don'twantto getcaughtup in theirjargon.That's theway they
ofthething
think.... The said and thesayingare one. The destruction
to be destroyed and thethingitselfwhichis destroyedare one.
Q. Hence thetitle,To Destroy,She Says,in Alissa's words.

itself;in the
A. Yes, and hersis a kindof thoughtwhichis thinking
Elizabethis innocent.
realmofthought,
Q. There is an amazingeliminationof the cerebralin thisstrange

ofthought.
distillation
A. Yes.
Q. Abahn,Sabana, David is a bookwhichseemsto mequitedifferent.

A. More so thefilmthanthebook.
Q. Wouldyoutalkaboutthefilmand whatdrewyouto themedium?

The book itselfis so unusual;it'shardevento speak about technique.
You said thateach storytakesits own path and that'strue,but there
and theamazingsetswith,forexample,the
is theediting,thelighting,
recurrentnoise of tennisballs or of barkingdogs. Soundsof thissort
seemto providerhythms whichgiveone a feelingofsurrounding space.
A. Theydestroy.The dog destroys thesilence.The tennisballs break
thesilenceas theydo in Le Vice-Consul.It's like a stonethrowninto
water.Everythingmustbe begunoveragain.
Q. mustbe begunagain?
Everything
A. Always.
Q.* Does thatincludea breakwiththe self?I understoodthatyou

said Stein,forexample,was a "mutant";iftherewas a breakwithwhat
came before,it was a breakwithegocentrism, withthe verysense of
self.There is the of a
purification being who sensesthathe can become
fullyhumanonlyby destroying himselfand thatmeansdestroying his
egocentricity. You did use the term"mutant" withtremendous force.
DURAS | 411
A. I don'tknowwhethertheidea was mine,but someoneasked me
"Who is Stein?" (people are always askingme that question), and
someoneanswered,"He's a mutant";thatis to say,a man who comes
fromtheotherside of theworld,fromthefutureratherthanfromthe
past,yousee?
Q. * Quite.Your recentbooksareturnedmoretowardthefuturethan
theearlyones.The otherswerefullofthepoisonsof thepast.
A. No, no. In themovieAbahn,forexample,someonesuddenlyasks,
"Whattimeis it?"and someoneelse answers,"The future."But we felt
thatwe werein thefuturein 1971, thatwe had setfoot
verydefinitely
in thefuture.We aren'tcompletely
there,it'strue.
Q. Hence our senseof uneasiness?

A. We are uneasy.We don'twant to believeit, but we are in the
futureand we denyit. It's thefissurethatalwaysexists,shall we say,
betweentheera in whichwe are in factand theera in whichwe should
liketo be thatI call thefuture.
Q. And is Steinalreadylivingcompletely
in thefuture?
A. Yes, because ifSteinwereout in thestreetsrightnow,ifhe lived
in Paris,he wouldbe put intojail or a mentalinstitution.
Q. Whatkindofbehaviorwoulddestroyouruneasiness?
A. A moder behavior.I can't say it any better.When speakingof
Thor,Steinsays: "How he lovesyou;howhe wantsyou."He saysit as
ifhe weresayingitofhimself:"How I love you;howI wantyou!" The
movement ofSteintowardstheother,or shallwe saytowardsotherness,
has the same scope as the movementof Stein towardshimself.The
divisionno longerexists.
whichhas beenso characteristic

theegocentrism
Q. It, then,destroys
ofourwayofviewingtheworldsinceat leastthetimeoftheromantics?
A. Yes and it'sa veryimpoverished
wayofviewingthings.
Q. Abahn,Sabana, David takesplace in a kindoffuture.Whatis the

of theblindcharacterwho is almostpetrified
significance in cement?
A. David or theJew?
412 f CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE
Q. David.
A. His life,whichhad been entirelypoliticalbeforethen,becomes
modem.
entirely
Q. BeforeAbahn theonlydirectlypoliticalsituationyou considered

appearsin one ofyourplays,Un Hommeestvenume voir.
A. It refersto thepoliticalthoughtofMoscow.
Q. Yes, that'sit. And, moreover,it has extractsfromnewspapers

about theconditionof workers.
A. Yes. I triedto ... how shallI put it... to situatethebook in a
certainwell-defined withverycon-
era,butpoliticallydefined,starting
creteitems,like salaries,tradeunionism,and especiallyadherenceto
a Communist Partywhichis bureaucratic and Stalinist.
Q. WithGringo... and also Grinsky.

A. Yes, GringobecomesGrinskyin thefilm.
Q. "Grinsky"soundsRussian;"Gringo"seemsEnglish.
A. Therewas Gringo-Grinsky;do you see whatI'm drivingat?
Q. I thinkso. Gringocould be theAmericanfacetof Grinsky.

A. Gringois Americanand Grinskyis Russian. Politicallifetoday
is whatmightbe called thenightoftheEast and thenightoftheWest.
Q. In Abahnisn'ttheallusionratherto theRussia ofStalin?Grinsky

is theleader,at anyrate.And is David's adventurehis awakening,his
escapefromGrinsky?
A. Yes, David has been in chains;he is in dangerof death.He has
beentakenoverby theCommunistParty-draftedand pushedintoall
kindsof labor and managerialtasks.Withthearrivalof theJew,that
is to say, of refusal-thisJewembodyingrefusalforme-comes his
freedom.David takesup again whatI call the"savage" path.
Q. Thencetheforestand thedogs?
A. The dogs,thehunting-an age-oldactivity ofmanand one which
has neverundergonethe slightest change, the least and
modification,
is not a culturalactivity.
Nowadayspoliticsis a cultural which
activity
DURAS [ 413
has becometotallydegraded;Abahntakesa positivestandagainstthat
in hatredof it and againsttheCommunist
activity Party.
Q. It is strangethatat theend thethreatto David appearsillusory.

Sincethedooris open forhim,thereis no need to forceit.
A. One can pushit.
Q. Grinsky's threats
seemno longerto have anyinterestat thatpoint.
A. No, butwhatis trulyat stakeis nottheJew;it is David. It is the
proletariat.
Q. And theJewyousayis thepowerofnegation.His roleis tofurnish

theevidencebutnotto liberatetheproletariat?
A. Yes. The Jewsrepresentthe space offeredto David whereinhe
mayknowhimself.The Jewsare simplytherein a physicalsense.
Q. Thereare twoof them,however.

A. In thefilmthereare three.
Q. And theyall havethesamename?

A. Yes. Thereare three... theyare Jews.It's like a wall of Jews.A
silentwall ofrefusal.Then thewoman,Sabana, comesto ask theJews
questions.She alwaysbreaksin upon theirprivatespace; she wrenches
wordsout of them.They speak only to ask questions,whereasthe
classical militant,in the classical acceptanceof the term,seizes the
truth,digestsit, and givesit to thenew recruit.And whatdo you do
whengivendigestedfood?You vomitit. And so classicalmilitancy is
a productof culture.People denounceformaluniversity lectures,and
thetraditional militants,thesecretaries of thecommunist cells,are no
betterthantheprofessors. And fromthatpointof view,I shouldde-
scribeAmericanmilitancy, silentand physical,as a model.Thereis no
doubtat all thatit is theyoungpeople,theAmericanyoungmen and
women,whoarenotat all brainwashed, whohaveno politicalideology,
who caused thenumberof Americansagainstthewar in Vietnamto
rise fromthirtyto seventypercent.Well, even withthe loquacious
militants of thePartyin France,we nevermanagedto get a resultof
thatkind,eitherduringthe war in Indochinaor duringthe one in
Algeria.
Q. Even duringtheAlgerianwar?
414 CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE
A. No, absolutelynot.I knowwhatI'm talking about.I wasa mem-
berof theCommunist Party.I was forcedoutof it. So, one can say
generally yousee, thattheirwayof smothering
speaking, reality(I
don'tliketheword"reality,"
let'ssay"thereal")-the throat-cutting,
thesmotheringof therealby words,by theunilateral wordsof the
ofthewriter,
militant, ofpolitics-thatis whatmustbe shattered, that
iswhatmustbe destroyed.
Q. It'sparadoxical
toputtheproblem sinceyouyour-
intheseterms,
selfarea writer.
Theworldmustpassthrough
you andyetit mustbe
shattered?
I can'treada book;infact,I can'treadat all.
A. Absolutely.
Q. David,then,is to be setfreeforwhatyoucall "savageactivity"

intheforest?
A. Yes.
Q. Butthereare dogsin thatforest-notpolicedogs,buthunting

dogs.
A. That'sit,andbothofthemareinventedbyGrinsky.
Q. Invented?
A. Theyareinvented, buttheyarerealforDavid.Grinsky invented
themforDavidbutDavidrecreated andhe be-
themin theirentirety,
He diesbecauseofthem.
lievesinthemabsolutely.
Q. And David wouldhavekilledtheJewin orderto possessthese

dogsbecauseafterall,he didcometo killtheJew?
purelyimaginary
A. No. He cametowait.
Q. Forthekilling?
A. He came to wait forGrinsky-that is, he stillbelievedthat
was
Grinsky going to comein orderto kill.He didn'tbelievethathe
had beensingledout by Grinsky.Furthermore, he is not angryat
Afterall,Grinsky
Grinsky. is thefatherfigure.It comesto thesame
thing.
Andthesecondwoman,Jeanne... ?
Q. He standsforauthority.
DURAS | 415
whoworksinsidetheParty,is liberal
A. One can saythatJeanne,
which
democracy, is theworst and soonwillbe
formof hypocrisy
extinct.
Q. Abahnthenis completely
political.
its limits.That is whyit
A. It's a politicalbook and thatdefines
butthefilmgotawayfromthepolitical
doesn'tgo so faras Detruire,
matrix.
Q. How do youmovefromyourtextsto films?

A. As faras Detruire dit-elleis concerned,thefilmis fairly
faith-
fulto thebook,butforAbahn,Sabana,David,forinstance, theJew
who is theprincipalconcern,thesingleJew,remainssilentin the
movie.I gavehimoverto madness. Poetryhas itsmadmen, painting
has it madmen,musictoo.Andrevolution has itsmadmen. The Jew
is a madmanoftherevolution.
Q. You meantheJewwhoin thebooklivesin thehouseto which

Davidcomes.
A. Yes. AndtwootherJewscometosavehim.It'sthefirst one,who
whentheothers
is present whois mad.He is completely
arrive, "unsal-
vageable"from the pointof viewof This
politics. means no
that leftist
no
party, party which is termed revolutionary,would be concerned
withthisman.Theywouldleavehiminhiscomer,ofno possibleuse,
an unredeemable element andthusfitto be thrown intothegarbage.
In thefilmtheJewsputthemselves outandrisktheirlivesin orderto
savehim.Obviously, we are in an upside-down world.And at that
is
point,there an indication ofa way... whichwouldbe thefreeing
fromprejudiceswhichholdthata manbe defined byhisefficiency,
by
hisefficacity,his
by rationality. A madman is as useful
as anotherman.
Q. Thenis itthedestruction
oftherational,
ofdogma,ofthea priori
thatyouaretalking
answer about?
A. Yes, that'sit.
Q. In thebook,whenJeannegoesaway,yousaythattheJewhas
alsolefttofollowher.Is thisbecauseofwhatoccursinhermind?
A. Yes,that'sit;it'sthemovement
intotheother.
416 1 CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE
Q. In otherwords,
hemovedintoherconcern.
A. Once David has savedhimself, theJewleavesagain.He is in
constant movement-this I can sayforthejustificationof theJews.
As Blanchot'said,"Abrahamwas,aboveall, a manwholeft."The
Jewsare thefirstto havebrokentheequation:unityequalsidentity
withthestate.TheJewsarethefirst tohaveleftthestate.TheDiaspora
is a refusal
ofthestate.So,yousee,formeJudaism is thephenomenon
ofunconditionalrefusal.
ButbesidesJews,allthehippies, all theyoung
people,poetry,lovers....
Q. Theyareall "German Jews."2

Q. * It is alsoa refusal
whichisrefused.
A. It'sa refused
refusal.
Q.* As muchbyothers.
Q. Thereis a kindofsuggestion of thewandering Jewat theend,
becausehe startsoffagainas ifnowitwereJeannewhohadtakenup
thequestion;at least,he assimilates
himselftoherat theend.
A. Completely.
Q. Withtheresultthatone getstheimpression thatJeanneis now

goingto liveherownOdyssey, whateveritmaybe,whereasevidently
Sabanareturns to theforest;
shesays,"I amwiththeJew... ."
A. Butinthemovie,he staysintheroomandbeginsto speak,using
a dozenwordsina kindofincantation.Sabanasaysthatsheno longer
knowsanything theforest.
andreinvents Shesays,"Peoplegoby,there
aretheleavesofthetrees,
no colors,Davidis notthereyet"andso on,
andthetalkaboutthetrees,thesolesofshoes,theforestis all interior.
Q. And David is saved.Is he no longerblindor is he stillblind?

A. He isalmostalwaysblind.He says,"I don'tknowhowtokillyou."
(Did he say thatin thebook? . . . yes,I thinkso.) "I don'tknow,I
don'tknowevenwheretheheartis,"he saysandgoesaway.
1 Maurice Blanchot, a novelistand critic,whose work since the fortieshas

restedon an explorationof the nature of language and literaryexpression.
2 An allusion to one of the student
slogans in 1968: "We are all German
Jews."
DURAS 1 417
Q. I don'tthinkhe saysthatin thebook.It mustbe in themovie
version.
tohistruehome-
A. It'sin themovie.Therehe goesoffandreturns
land,whichis sleep.
Q. In thebook David goes intotheforest;he wantsto livewith

Sabana,buthehasn'tyettriedtolive.I don'tthink
he says...
A. "I don'tknowhowtokillyou."
Q. I don'tthink he saysthat."Davidtakesa stepthrough thedoor;

he stops.He saysslowlyandclearly, 'I didn'tkilltheJew.'"
A. That'saccurate. It amounts to thesamething.
thewindowthattheJewis alive ..."

Q. "You sawthrough
A. He saysthattoGrinsky.
Q. Yes, andthenatthismoment theJew'svoiceis heardas he says,

"Weshallgo bytheponds,we shallheadnorth,"thatis,he opensthe
roadtoDavid,through to an openworld.Wheredo yougo
theforest
fromhere?
A. Well,I'm writing
a kindofsequeltoLol V. Stein.
Q. That'sinteresting
becausethereseemstobe a movement
backand
forth.You spokeofLes PetitsChevauxde Tarquiniaand howyouhad
feltyoumustwritesomething thatwentbeyondit,andnowyouare
doingthesame thingwith thisnewbookandLol V. Stein.
A. Yes. I rereadLol V. Stein.I wantedto makea movieoutof it,
butnowI'mnotso sure.
Q. Whynot?
A. Becauserereading thenovelmademepursuethings farther
and
thenI sawthatitentailed
somethingbeyondthebook.It'swithwhat
wasn'tsaidthatI amgoingto writethenewbook.
Q. Howdo youcomeupwiththenamesyouuse?Theyarebrilliant-
Lol V. Steinand theothercharacters
whoare bornwithfull-blown
names.They aren'tcalled simply"Jeanne,"except,of course,in
Abahn,and sheenterslast.Characters
areoftenintroducedby their
completenamesandthatgivestheman unusualpresence.The names
havea kindofpowerwhichcompelsattention.
Theysurgeup,perhaps.
A. I can'ttellyouhowtheycomeabout.
Q. Butdidyouhavetosearchforthenames?
A. As soonas onesays"Stein"inDdtruire, thewomanchanges,as if
thewordhadan effect onher.Anditdoeshavean effect onher.Then
sherepeatsitmechanically andshechanges
in a sortofbewilderment
accordinglyas sherepeatsit.In themovementofwriting,
placenames
oftenturnintothenamesofpeople.S. Tahla comesto lifein Lol V.
Stein;itbecomesa man.
Q. Thatsuggests whatwemight callthemusical

patternofyourtexts,
whichtherepetitionsofthenameserveto punctuate; it'salmostlike
thetennisballsthatcomebackagain.The namecomesbackwithall
itsforce,in itsconcreteness,
and thecharactersare neverconfused.
One alwaysknowswhois speaking; yetyoudon'tsay"Max speaks"
but"hespeaks."
A. It hastobe clear.
clear.
Q. It'sperfectly
thatdoesit.It isn'tthedark-
A. It scaresmea gooddeal.It'sclarity
it's
ness;rather, thelight.It'sthe which
light is frightening.
Q. In whatway?
voices... thatthevoicesbe distinct.
A. I meanthattheverydistinct
memuchmorethaniftheywereconfused,
Thistroubles do yousee?
Q. Yes. Thereareinstances
inmanynovelswhicharenowappearing
inwhichthe"I's" areconfused
on purpose.
A. Yes,butthatleadsto confusion.
Q. In otherworksoneis neversure,butinyoursthatis notso. It is

alwaysveryclear.We knowwhois speaking, andthatgivesa tremen-
dousforcetothedialogueandtothepresence ofthecharacters.
They
arepresentandneverdescribed-orat leastrarelyso.
A. Theeyes,thecoloroftheeyes.
Q. Yes, theeyes.
DURAS | 419
A. Thevoice.
Q. Andnotrightaway.Generally, sometimes
itis veryuncertain; a
characteristic but the are
appears, just same,they present, likea mask
Haveyoueverfeltthat?
whichappears.It'san oddthing.
Q.* Oh,yes.You feelthatright away.

Q. You feelthatyouare in a humanpresence, in thepresenceof
people,ofpersons....
Q.* Butyouhearthevoices.It'strue.You love;youhavea knowl-
edgethatis tonal,thatinvolves Fromall thathas justbeen
tonality.
said,in everything
you do, there
are myths. thedeparture,
Theforest,
peopleleave,thisis said....
A. Everyone leaves.That'strue.UnBarrage...
Q. As yousay,thereis alreadya kindof music.And thenpeople

init all.
leave,butonefeelsthereis a hiddenmeaning
Q. Perhapsone sensesyoureachdepthscommonto us all.
Q.* One getstheimpression thatin yourworldthebestwayto be
is tosay"I amleaving."
there Whensomeone says,"I amleaving,"you
aresurethatheis present.I'm simplifying...
A. Butinfactevery isa quiterelative
presence thing, don'tyouthink?
Jean's3
presence, forexample,is alwaysveryrelative.
You neverknow.In fact,whatconstitutes

Q.* Yes,he is elsewhere.
That'swhatmakes
is thatyouknowthathe is elsewhere.
hispresence
hispresence....
A. He is clearlyelsewhere.But aproposof Detruire,peoplehave
askedme whatit's about.Thereis a conversation betweenMichel
aboutthebook.I didn'ttakepartin it.
FoucaultandPhilippeSollers4
I believeitwasFoucaultwhoaskedmemyopinionand
Then,finally,
thatI hadonlyonething
I answered tosay,"an areafromwhichsleep
3Jean Lagrollet,a novelistand friend.

4 Michel Foucault, author of Histoire de la folie (Madness and Civiliza-
tion) and Les Mots et les choses (The Order of Things); Philippe Sollers,
dominantfigureof the revolutionaryreview Tel Quel (founded in 1960) and
an exponent and practitionerof "textual writing,"based on linguistictheory.
had disappeared,"do yousee? Detruireis an area fromwhichsleephas
disappeared.As a consequence,dreamshave disappeared,dreamsthat
compensate...
thecharactersare livinglucidity.
Q. Therefore,
A. Yes.
Q. And so whatmustbe destroyed are all thedissimulations

and all
thecompensations?
A. Yes. Butit'sthatluciditythatscaresme.I was afraidwhenI wrote
Detruire
dit-elle.
Q. I shouldlike to ask you one finalquestion,perhapsa banal one.

In youropinionwhatare theresponsibilities of thewriter?As a con-
temporary do
writer, yourecognizeanyresponsibility or do youcham-
pion a totalfreedom?
A. I have held twoverydifferent opinionson thatscore.For a long
time, I held fortheabsolutenoncommitment of thewriter;now I hold
thatit is madnessand a lie to say thatthewriteris not committed.A
writercommitshimselffromthe verymomenthe picks up the pen.
Revolutionary demandsand literarydemandsare one and the same.
Q. One doesn'tdestroytheother?
A. They blend. If thereis a divorcebetweenthe two, thereis no
longeranycomposition. Thereis an absurdmechanicalactivity
which
isn'tbased on anything.
Q. You don'tshareSartre'sbeliefin an opposition?

A. Sartrestillretainstheold senseof guilt.I don'tfeelthatold guilt
of thewriterat all. To feelit at one levelis to feelit at theother.For
me,thetrueintellectual isn'tthemanofculture;it'stheworker.I think
thatintellectualityin all itsrigorousdemandshas gone downintothe
proletariat.
Q. And have you discussedyourwritingwiththeworkers?

A. I knowseveralof them,and, good heavens,I neverchangemy
way of speakingto talk withthem,never.I have seen some of them
reallycaughtup withmyfilm,forinstance.I was veryhappy,indeed.
DURAS | 421
Q. Whichfilm? dit-elle?
Detruire
A. Abahn,Sabana,David,whichwasagainsttheCommunist
Party.
Q. Andtheyunderstoodit?
Theywerefilledwithjoy;theysaidtheywerevery
A. Thoroughly.
almost
happy, ecstatic.
Q. Thatis surprising
becausemanyreadersfoundAbahn,Sabana,
Perhapsthemoviehas an immediate
Daviddifficult. impact.
A. ButI wastoldthatonecriticsaidthatitwouldbe difficult
forme
tobe muchclearer.

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Board of Regents of the University of Wisconsin System

An interview withMargueriteDuras is a memorableevent.This one

*The interview,conducted in French, was translatedby Cyril Doherty.

CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE I XII, 4

Q. So, yourEnglishreaderscan see yourworkas a whole.In your

Q. That are quitedistinct?

Q. I had wonderedwhether or notyourdroppingthetermwas inten-

yourrecitstell a story.Could you tell us what a

402 1 CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE

Q. Something happensin all thesenovels.I was goingto ask you the

Q. One ofyourconcernsseemsto be to choosea subjectmatterwhich

Q. How do you mean?

Q. Les PetitsChevaux goes back quite a way. Betweenthemand

Q. Areyouremovedfromall ofyourpastnovels,in thatsense,or are

Q. That's an extraordinary book and I want to talk about it in a

Q. Those are bothverystrangetoo. Perhapswe could discussthem

Q. Did you beginto writewhenyouwerein Indochinaor whenyou

404 | CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE

Q. Mightithave been loneliness?

Q. Your writing themled to theimaginary.It seemsthatin all your

Q. You don'tfeelthestoryas ...

Q. And thisyou discoveras thestorydevelops?

Q. Do youhave anysensebeforehand ofhowthestorywillgo?

Q. Yes. Two ofyournovelsarepermeated bytheatmosphere ofIndo-

Q. The book fascinatesme butI don'tknowwhetherI fullyunder-

Q. This raisestheissue of destruction

Q.* To returnto whatyou weresayingearlier,you mentionedthat

Q.* One noticesit,butone can't....

406 | CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE

Q. Music is oftenpresentin yournovels.For instance,thereis the

Q. and hersongis wovenintoeverything.

Q. Could youtalkaboutthethemeofdestruction? In Le Vice-Consul

Q. And in Detruiredit-elle,forinstance,what kind of destruction

Q. Writersoftenappear in novelstoday,but thereare veryfew in

Q. Is itan impulse kindofper-

Q. Butwhatstarts youon a book?

Q. Andatpresent whatis thedetail?

408 | CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE

Q.* Or itno longerexists.

Q. Love is thetheme, oroneofthemainthemes inDetruire....

Q. But whatdrawsthesecharacters to ElizabethAlione?Whydo

Q. You said a moment

Q.* No,I haven't.

410 | CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE

Q. Insofaras sheis a characterin a novel....

Q. Hence thetitle,To Destroy,She Says,in Alissa's words.

Q. There is an amazingeliminationof the cerebralin thisstrange

Q. Abahn,Sabana, David is a bookwhichseemsto mequitedifferent.

Q. Wouldyoutalkaboutthefilmand whatdrewyouto themedium?

Q.* Does thatincludea breakwiththe self?I understoodthatyou

Q. Hence our senseof uneasiness?

whichhas beenso characteristic

Q. Abahn,Sabana, David takesplace in a kindoffuture.Whatis the

412 f CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE

Q. BeforeAbahn theonlydirectlypoliticalsituationyou considered

Q. Yes, that'sit. And, moreover,it has extractsfromnewspapers

Q. WithGringo... and also Grinsky.