*Clément* is a semi-autobiographical novel about incest, written by Romain Lemire. This remarkable book is, at once, a genuine literary work, a challenge to the taboo surrounding incest, and, in all likelihood, a form of therapy for its author. It chronicles the life of Clément-from his first day on earth into his forties-centered on a petit-bourgeois family that, at first glance, appears entirely normal. Yet, the horror of incest is soon revealed-gradually at first, then through specific, pointed instances-conveyed in sentences that, while sometimes understated, are devastating in their implications.
Incest-and, perhaps even more significantly, the complete absence of any discussion about it within the family once it comes to light-lies at the heart of the novel. Throughout everything that happens to Clément-from his romantic life to his professional career-one constantly senses this crushing, pervasive, and deeply damaging weight. The author's true talent, and his way of navigating this trauma, is revealed through the novel's literary structure. It is formally divided into two parts: the first, spanning from birth to age twenty, takes the form of a personal diary-capturing both the innocence of childhood and a lack of understanding regarding what is unfolding, while grounding his experiences in the mundane reality of everyday life. The second part is split into three sections: it begins as a conventional first-person autobiographical narrative, covering his life up to age thirty-five, before abruptly shifting into a third-person account-as if to create distance, or, in the author's own words, to "methodically dislocate" the self. Finally, once he has passed his fortieth year, the narrative returns to the first person, marking the beginning of a process of repair. The author frequently breaks the fourth wall, and there is no doubt that Clément and the author, Romain, are one and the same. Beautifully written yet deeply difficult to read, the book is guaranteed to leave no reader unmoved. It demonstrates that incest is not merely defined by acts of rape, but by everything that surrounds it and everything that stems from it. "It takes a village to rape a child," Clément remarks toward the end, subverting the classic adage. The silence is deafening-at every level. Between the lines, one also finds a thorough analysis of the petite bourgeoisie, its social codes, and its characteristic ways of being. Clément hails from this milieu; while incest affects all social classes, here it manifests in a manner specific to his own background. The precision with which this social sphere is observed is a major strength of the novel.
Discussing incest-particularly male-experienced incest-is rare and challenging, yet the author tackles it head-on, without restraint and, at times, with a sense of violence. Readers may occasionally feel uncomfortable gaining access to such intimate territory, or realizing that Clément is not necessarily a "good" person. He is well aware of this, revealing himself to the reader unvarnished-laying everything bare: his thoughts, his emotions, and the context of his life. Some might see this as a limitation; Clément is a man of the petite bourgeoisie, with all that entails. This does not, however, diminish the quality of the novel-one simply needs to know what to expect. It is up to each reader to decide how they wish to judge him.
Reading *Clément* is an experience that cannot leave one indifferent, whether due to its literary quality or its powerful, clear message regarding incest. The novel achieves the remarkable feat of succeeding in both substance and form, and it deserves to be read. Let us hope that it will help those seeking to rebuild themselves, to gain understanding, or simply to learn.
Sano (UCL Marseille)
Romain Lemire, *Clément*, Le Cherche-Midi, 2026, 400 pages, 22 euros.
https://www.unioncommunistelibertaire.org/?Lire-Romain-Lemire-Clement
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Source: A-infos-en@ainfos.ca
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