Emmanuel Carrère
Vite che non sono la mia

1. Prologue

Sicily. July 1996. The father collapsed to the ground and did not respond to the child's pleas. A. understood the laws that govern the cosmos.

Living, in general, means being in danger.

2. Lives

Emmanuel Carrère writes about what he fears: the death of a child for parents, that of a young woman for her children and husband. Life has made me a witness to these two calamities, one after the other, and has assigned me the task, or at least I understood it that way, to tell them.

3. Waves and Rats

Sri Lanka. December 2004. Carrère is in Southeast Asia with his family. The night before the wave, I remember Helene and I talked about separating. Suddenly the sea swallows the bustling life: what was will not be, never again.

Philippe was reading the local newspaper sitting on the wicker armchair in the bungalow's veranda, occasionally looking up to check on the two girls playing by the sea. They were skipping around laughing among the small waves. Juliette spoke French, Osandi Sri Lankan, but they understood each other perfectly anyway. Some crows were squabbling over breakfast crumbs. Everything was calm, it promised to be a beautiful day, Philippe thought maybe in the afternoon he would go fishing with Jérôme. At a certain point he realized that the crows had disappeared, no bird sounds were heard anymore. It was then that the wave arrived. The sea, which a moment before was a flat surface, a moment later was a wall as high as a skyscraper about to crash onto him. For a fraction of a second, he thought he would die and wouldn't have time to suffer.

P. survives, like Carrère and his family. The girls are swallowed by the sea. Juliette's family tries to bring the little girl back to France: the tuk-tuk driver is talkative, many people dead, but his wife and children, thank God, are unharmed. When we approach the hospital the smell overwhelms us. Even though we've never smelled it before, we recognize it. Dead bodies, many dead bodies, says the driver, bringing a handkerchief to his nose and suggesting we do the same.

France. 2004/2005. Meanwhile, in the French suburbs, rats are emerging, devouring existences. The farewell resonates: Amélie and Clara had made drawings for her, brought the videotape of the show but, although knowing how much it mattered to them, Patrice didn't feel like connecting the camcorder to the room's television as planned. It was so painful that they shortened the visit. Clara gave her mother a kiss, Patrice placed Diana's cheek against Juliette's, but Amélie was so terrified she didn't want to leave her aunt's arms.

Here, Carrère observes and narrates the devastation. The language is dry, the narrator does not explain the immeasurable but captures the essence of the horror: the absence of any meaning. If we knew what we risk, we would never dare to be happy. Human beings remain, with an irreparably cracked core, who desperately want.

4. Epilogue

Sicily. July 2021. A. observes the slide: the father holds the child and whispers ‘everything will be fine, I'm here’. The beast devoured the father and the promise.

Living, in general, means being in danger.

A. moves in the heat and clutches the photo.