Colum McCann. “Today, the most courageous act is to say “I don’t know”.

During the entire interview with Colum McCann, I had to pay attention or he would be the one asking the questions. We were at his house, he lives on the Upper East Side, in a classic family apartment – I was surprised, don’t all writers live in Brooklyn? He laughed, no, serious people live here. Then he started questioning me. He wanted to know what I was doing in New York, and I realized too late that if I told him that I was coming to meet my American editor and his team, he would not let me go. So he wanted to know the subject of my book, then he asked me questions about my life story, my family, its origins, my grandparents and parents, and finally if I had enough tea in my cup. I tried to give as brief answers as possible, but I could see that it was not enough for him, he came back to me.

As a writer, I’m always happy to talk about myself, about what I think, but he’s a writer I’ve admired for a long time, and a mystery to delve into. Twenty years ago I was amazed dancer, Nureyev’s romantic biography between the USSR and the West. Apeirogon, his latest novel about the friendship between a Palestinian father and an Israeli father, is the one I turn to today for comfort. He repeats this feat back American Mom (1), in which she portrays Diane, the mother of James Foley, an American soldier killed by ISIS, and the terrorist who killed him. I wanted to know where her ability to bridge worlds apart with grace and tenacity came from. Colum McCann was born in Ireland, during the war between Protestants and Catholics, he lives in New York, ends his life. novel about cables that cross the Atlantic Ocean, I searched for a psychoanalytic explanation that failed. The link? Wire? Let’s just say that he is not his cup of tea. He is interested in other people. After the interview was over, he offered to take his dog for a walk in Central Park. We talked about our children, our teachers, those who made us, who made us who we are. It seems to me that the clarification was.

Madame Figaro. – Before he was killed, James Foley was photographed reading one of your novels. Can we say that you had no choice but to write her story when she told you to? ?

Colum McCann. – James Foley was first kidnapped in Libya and released. He read my book on the return military plane. The photo was published in a local newspaper in 2013, after which he was kidnapped and killed a second time. Yes, the mystery leads you to the book. It is dangerous to admit it, you may be perceived as crazy, a mystic, but you are. After his death, I started receiving letters from friends, relatives, strangers who sent me this photo. I got excited, I didn’t know what to do, then I decided to write to Diane, his mother. “If you ever want to write your son’s story or your story, I’d be happy to help you.” He didn’t answer me, and I learned that he had chosen his own book. A year later, I happened to meet one of his friends and told him that I was trying to contact him. An hour later I got a text from Diane. He had given up the idea of ​​writing and would be glad to be talked about. One of her son’s killers, Alexanda Kotei, was arrested, pleaded guilty and was scheduled to stand trial. He promised to talk to the victims or victims’ families. Diana’s husband did not want to go, she was ready to do it. I offered to accompany him, there was a book for me.

The mystery leads you to the book. It is dangerous to admit it, you may be perceived as crazy, a mystic, but you are.

Colum McCann

Journalist Janet Malcom writes that what the journalist does is “morally indefensible”. What do you answer? ? Have you had the same feeling? ?

I love people, even if that seems like an overly simple answer. As for the method, for this book I didn’t try to be the killer alongside Alexanda. But I wanted to know why he killed John Foley. Palestinian author Edward Said reminded that we are several identities at the same time. we can be Irish and Palestinian and Catholic and gay and so on. When we write, we can explore all of our identities. writing is the purest way to reach all these contradictions.

You have found the voice of Diane Foley, the heroine and co-author of your novel. What were you looking for? ?

Diane Foley was able to see humanity in the man who killed her son. And he shook her hand, although as a Muslim, it is forbidden for him, he can only shake the hand of a mother, a wife, a daughter. He saw in her the mother of all.

You celebrated the 10th anniversary of the Narrative 4 Center for Fiction, a youth association founded by novelists, including yourself.

We invite them to tell each other stories, and this birthday there was an 18-year-old from Kentucky whose parents are voting for Trump, and a girl who grew up in the Bronx. She was wearing Airpods under her hijab and he had a gun. with his gun he kills the rabbits that will be his evening meal. They listen to the same music, experience the same poverty. Talking to each other, exchanging stories, they couldn’t believe they had so much in common. In this sense, fiction is a repair for them.

I am afraid of everything that is happening, the transformation of the world, the place of lies.

Colum McCann

What do you think has more power to reduce hatred and violence, fiction or storytelling? ?

The distinction no longer makes sense. We want to believe in facts, we cling to facts, but they are lost, and we cannot lie about unspeakable things like love or pity, we cannot lie about what we feel. We cannot avoid it or redefine them. This is where fiction comes in, these feelings are the last to be counted on. I am afraid of everything that is happening, the transformation of the world, the place of lies. Is this the end of the books? Art? We have to get up and continue. Write the truth about love, violence, pity, pride. The most courageous act today is to say “I don’t know”. We will be able to live in a world without books, without opera, but not without stories. I remain an idealist, my life is there, I collect stories.

(1) american mother By Colum McCann with Diane Foley, translated by Clément Bode, Belfond.