LAST DITCH OF DEMOCRACY - Majority Rights

That one sentence is enough to establish an author.
Oh yes, the rising American writers, the writers of 1940 to ’50 will
STILL have to read a FRENCH author. I mean ANOTHER French
author; one not yet in the school books, one no Amy Lowell will bring
home in a sachet case.
France stank, and the stink is recorded. It is recorded with a COPIA:
whereof probably no frog since Rabelais has been capable. But the
copia, the supply of words is an accessory. It is the clear view that makes
CÉLINE important.
Yaaas, I am talkin’ of CÉLINE. Last book suppressed I hear in Ole
Brother
Pétain’s France. Don’t like the SUBJECT. Some folks don’t like the
SUB JECT. Now WHY don’t they like the subject? Céline was all out to
save France. I reckon he is still out to pick up the pieces.
Forty million population in France in 1938; 25 million Frenchmen, soon
to be a minority. CELINE was tellin’ ’em, and they did NOT listen to
Céline. Nacherly Mr. Chamberlain’s friends, and Mr. Eden’s playmates
did NOT encourage the publication of Céline. Naturally his work was
not welcome in certain quarters. Nevertheless the École des Cadavres
had gone into 51 editions by the time the copy before me was printed.
His best KNOWN works are Voyage au bout de la Nuit, Mort à Credit,
Bagatelles pour un Massacre.
Bonjour, Ferdinand. I don’t hold it my duty any more to run a chronicle
of French publications, but I still know a real book when I see one, what
ever the contents.
Ferdinand has GOT down to reality, Ferdinand is a writer. Next one will
be the last one. Gnrr, gnrrn, gnrrn, gnrr. Suicide of the Nation.