Monday, February 12, 2024



Suggested translation of passage by Philippe Djian


Some evenings she could have cried tears of rage. She felt her life was a real disaster and this made her panic somewhat. And yet the filming was going well: the rushes were good and more and more people were congratulating her for her work, and saying they bet she could[1] get an award  for her acting out of it and be back in the spotlight again.


This promising future, though, did not thrill her as much as she had thought it would. Now that it was within her reach, the prospect left her nonplussed; she no longer found it so attractive. She had almost lost that furious appetite for success which ate away at ninety nine per cent of artists on the planet- and a hundred per cent in the world of cinema.



Eric Duncalah was perfectly correct in thinking that a sign from Evy would be able to make her happy, in so far as that was possible. They missed each other in the mornings, since at Dawn she was like a stone at the bottom of a well, crushed by leaden sleep or thoroughly drunk with fatigue. When she heard the coffee machine in action, it was too late. In the evenings she would do her best to clear her schedule and find time to be with her son, but she had not yet managed to have a serious conversation with him about all this, not to mention the fact that they had André under their feet. What a pain in the neck  he was, that man.


Judith Beverini made use of their yoga sessions to urge her to get rid of the old bastard- as if anyone in the house needed a sports room, as if muscle was what the house was short of!







“I wouldn’t put up with it if I were you ,” said Judith. “And it’s so weird, I reckon. It’d be different if Rose was there. Really he’s just lurking around the house. At least that’s what it looks like. How old is he. Brr... he must be 70. Isn’t he?







Judith’s husband had gone off again to put on The Nutcracker in Nankin, in China, with the communists , so the two women could talk on for hours about how men were intrinsically deceitful and gifted for rudeness and pretence. But all that could not stop Laure from thinking that first her husband and then her children had abandoned her one after the other, and this picture terrified her.

[1] There are other possibilities here, but the sequence of tenses seems to rule out structures with « may ».

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