From one man’s journals to a communal aesthetic? – Book Review

Mathieu Simonet, Les carnets blancs (Paris: Seuil, 2010)

On the face of it, the most self-indulgent project since Tracy Emin’s bed. Yet it has produced a piece of work that convinces both aesthetically and psychologically.

The concept is simple: to document the destruction or transformation of the author’s personal journals, written over a period of years and filling over 100 notebooks. Mathieu begins by rereading his old notebooks and disposing of them himself, in a variety of novel and inventive ways. So far, so self-indulgent.

But gradually other people are drawn into the project. There is a blog, on which Mathieu records the stories of his journals. One is sent around the world, where it inspires other people to share their own thoughts along the way. A young man in Lebanon takes a notebook of Mathieu’s poetry with him when he goes to the airport to meet a stranger for the first time. The notebook accompanies him and he feels a sense of presence, that he is not alone (pp. 77-78).

Simultaneously, Mathieu shares excerpts from his old journals, which turn out to be as much about other people as they are about himself. He talks about his mother and her illness, the unique personality of his grandmother, his lovers and life with his partner. These stories are updated and reflected upon throughout the book too.

Eventually, Mathieu asks other artists and members of the public to transform his journals into pieces of work. The result is an explosion of paintings, sculpture, fashion, food, and even a perfume made from pieces of a journal and inspired by its contents.

In this way, Les carnets blancs is less the memoir of one person than the story of a family and a network of relationships over a period of time. That some of the relationships are short-lived, difficult, or disappointing only makes their written traces all the more poignant. This is how the text works psychologically.

Undergirding the stories and reflections that Mathieu builds up, layer upon layer, is one simple aesthetic principle. This is something he learned from his father, who told him when he first began to keep a journal that ‘il ne fallait rien inventer, juste écrire les faits, et attendre que ça prenne de l’ampleur’ (p. 21f.). Truth is poetry.

Of course, the kind of ‘truth’ recorded in a journal is likely to be one-sided. I asked Mathieu about the ethics of writing about other people (and especially their intimate secrets) from such a subjective perspective. His response: it makes you a bastard (‘salaud’); so the goal is to minimise your bastardliness. This is why he removes some characters from the story entirely, or hides their identity. For such a self-indulgent project, Les carnets blancs is very considerate of other people and very creative in terms of community, friendship, and artistic endeavour.

Perhaps this is because it has the courage to acknowledge its own selfishness and bastardliness, opening up a space for honest encounter?

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