My Father and I: The Marais and the Queerness of Community

IOU

IOU [ ix ] Every book is a community. This one is no exception. I have written it neither for myself nor by myself. It bears the imprint of many friendships and many sources of support, moral and otherwise. Throughout this long process , I have relied on the kindness of strangers and on the tough and tender demands of those close to me. My father’s dream was to own a bookstore. He never did, but with this book, which is his, he will now be in bookstores. I only wish he had been around to see what he inspired. My writing has allowed me to grow closer to him and to make up for so many years of misunderstanding. I miss him every day. I am particularly indebted to my friends Ross Chambers and Cyril Royer, who have been precious interlocutors from day one. Thinking with them was a challenge and a joy, and they made this book better. Along with Ross and Cyril, Alejandro Herrero-Olaizola and Juli Highfill have given me far more than I could possibly acknowledge here. Jarrod Hayes, Cristina Moreiras-Menor, Martine Delvaux, and Liu Haiyong also deserve special recognition for their friendship, advice, and encouragements. I also thank Lawrence D. Kritzman and Michael Sibalis, who read the manuscript for Cornell University Press and contributed much to its improvement. Peter J. Potter was an ideal editor, wonderfully supportive, engaged, and generous. Thank you all so much. Dilettantism is a lovely ideal but it is also a luxury. A luxury I don’t have. Without the support of institutional structures, I could never do what I love to do—read, write and, think about stuff—and do it for a living. For that I am truly grateful. First of all, I want to acknowledge the various units at the University of Michigan that have made this book possible thanks to their generous support: the Department of Romance Languages and Literatures; the College of Literature, Science and the Arts; the Office of the Vice Provost for Research; and the Rackham School of Graduate Studies. I was also very fortunate to have received a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Humanities, which allowed me to conduct crucial research in Paris for a year. Another fellowship, at the University of Michigan’s Institute for the Humanities, helped me greatly in advancing my thinking and writing . Many thanks to all involved in one way or another: Martine Antle, Marie Lathers, David Halperin, Peggy McCracken, Marie-Hélène Huet, David Carroll, Didier Eribon, and Daniel Herwitz. And there are all the friends in France and elsewhere, the old ones, the new ones, and those whose names I never even knew. I’ll sing them all and we’ll stay all night! This is ultimately a book on friendship, and their love and hospitality have proved my point about community. When bad things happened—and they happened often during the writing of this book—they were there to help. In addition to those already mentioned, and in no particular order: Annabelle, Alain, Denis, Laurent, Thierry, Anna, Gowen, Nico, Guillaume, Krysztof, Gilles, Bruno, Babar, Michael, Johnny Boy, Tetsuya , Mindy, Patty, Ed, Fred, Jean-Louis, Ronan, Amar, Sylvie, Xavier, Lilian , René-Pierre, Bruno, Kali, Mika, Sophie, Kane, Iannis, Laetitia, Lijun, Marie, Caroline, Didier, and Hervé who didn’t make it. And my family, of course. An earlier version of the prologue, “My Father and I,” was published in GLQ in 2005 (vol. 11, 265–282). Many thanks to the publisher, Duke University Press, for permission to reprint it here. Small sections of chapters 3 and 5 have appeared in Entre Hommes: French and Francophone Masculinities in Culture and Theory in 2008, edited by Todd Reeser and Lewis Seifert (251–266) and in Gay Shame, also in 2008, edited by David Halperin and Valerie Traub. Many thanks to the editors and the University of Delaware Press and the University of Chicago Press respectively for permission to reprint parts of these essays here. David Caron Ann Arbor, Michigan [ x ] IOU My Father and I This page intentionally left blank. “It isn’t fun to be free alone.” Alfred Jarry This page intentionally left blank. ...