Morges, the call of literature

The reason I’m only now getting around to telling you about “Le Livre sur les quais” is that I attended the famous literary cruises. And I’ve only just set foot on the mainland—I’d been stuck in the ship’s hold. A look back at a festival that quickly fell back into its usual rhythm—from book-signing lines to the ringing of a phone that a retiree forgot to silence in the middle of a lecture.

Despite the torrential rain that had been falling since morning, I didn’t arrive in Morges by boat, but by train. Barely a quarter of an hour later, I entered the first conference venue like a lord of the manor: the cellars of the Château de Morges. I pushed open the heavy door, and amid a great clatter, I took a seat in one of the last available chairs.

Seated around a table, emerging from the dim light, are Oscar Lalo, Corinne Desarzens, and Sigridur Hagalin Björnsdottir, accompanied by her translator, Eric Boury. For just under an hour, they discuss the power of reading and take turns presenting their latest novels. When it’s Corinne Desarzens’s turn, the host asks her if she should be referred to as «an autrice.» Her reply is immediate: «I don’t like that.» “Auteure”? She doesn’t like that either. When he lists her awards, she doesn’t like it. When we later find Corinne Desarzens in the book-signing tent, we realize that the audience feels the same way she does: they don’t like Corinne Desarzens either, standing alone amid stacks of unsold books.

A writer-revolutionary with free rein

A quick stop by the Morges tourist office, and now I can board the boat, proudly wearing my press pass around my neck, like a goat wearing its bell. We’re headed to the «Genève» lounge for Honorary President Alain Mabanckou’s carte blanche: the first literary cruise will feature a lively discussion between him and his guest, Miguel Bonnefoy. With no specific theme, guided by the joy of words and literary camaraderie, this exchange will fill hearts with joy.

Listening to Alain Mabanckou and Miguel Bonnefoy speak with such passion, curiosity, and humility, you simply feel happy to be there. But I’m not the most objective person; I admire the Franco-Congolese writer so much that I think I could listen to him talk about any subject and still be swept away by his tone and fervor.

In any case, the discussion on Lake Geneva wasn’t about just any topic, but about connections forged through words and cultures. The two writers spoke (briefly) about their novels and (at length) about what drives their writing and creativity. That is precisely what makes this event so special: the authors come for the pleasure of it, not to promote themselves. An hour and a quarter later, Lausanne returns to the dock, and the audience heads back to dry land with two pieces of advice from Professor Mabanckou. One is literary: to read The Black Child by Camara Laye. The Other Pragmatist: The best place to pick up people is at funerals.

An author and an amnesiac translator discuss memory

With the stream of passengers—readers—who had just disembarked, I found myself back in line for the second cruise. Books on the quays, it’s the complete opposite of a Martin-Lugand novel: there’s no room for boredom, and events unfold one after another without ever losing momentum.

A change of scenery for this conference, but no boat—I find myself Lausanne, but this time taking center stage in the first-floor lounge. After I took my seat in the front rows, the plushness of the chair suddenly turned me into a sociologist: the prestige of the speakers is measured by the comfort of the audience’s chairs. By the standards of this carefully considered analysis, Alain Mabanckou and Miguel Bonnefoy are no match for the newcomers Jon Kalman Stefansson and Monica Sabolo.

As the lake’s shores recede, the words themselves grow fainter: this literary gathering centers on memory and its twists and turns. Everyone’s tone is calm, placid—at times almost moved or reserved. Jon Kalman Stefansson paints a mental picture of the landscapes of his native island—its volcanoes, its mountains—and confides, his gaze lost in the lake’s reflection on the windows, that even here, in the middle of the water, he misses the sea.

Just like the poetry in his writing, his words are fragments plucked from his memories. The host pulls him out of his reverie by asking him a question. The writer answers in Icelandic, and Eric Boury, his translator, waits a moment before beginning his sentence in French; he pauses, turns to Jon Kalman Stefansson, talks with him for a moment, and they both burst out laughing in unison. Eric Boury explains to the audience that this lecture on memory is taking place in the presence of an amnesiac translator and an author with Alzheimer’s, since neither of them remembers the original answer!

A Taste for Words and Bad Taste

The microphone is then passed to Monica Sabolo, who declares—with her usual mischief—that she can only write about memory; that she thought she could spare herself some introspection by choosing a true story, but that it was all just an illusion and that she was falling headfirst into this fictional trap. The two authors then each read a passage from their latest novel (Eric Boury will do so for Jon Kalman Stefansson), and the audience hangs on every note of the beautiful silences that follow the final period. The woman sitting next to me is lost in thoughts of marrying Jon Kalman Stefansson. In the end, the only fashion faux pas during this reading session was the host’s polka-dot socks paired with her striped shirt.

What makes “Le livre sur les quais” special is that it isn’t an advertising showcase; authors don’t come to the talks with a carefully crafted pitch designed to sell their books. Similarly, literary cruises aren’t just discussions in a unique setting—they bring literature to life. It’s not about merely having authors speak briefly on a theme, but about setting aside reality for a moment and projecting their worlds instead. Stepping away from the world to better immerse oneself in the realm of fiction. Letting oneself be carried away by the words.

Write to the author: [email protected]

Photo credit: © Quentin Perissinotto for Le Regard Libre

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