THE French priest-writer, Jean Sulivan – the nom de plume for Joseph Lemarchand – was born in a small Breton village, Montauban, in 1913. Some 67 years later, in February 1980, he was the victim of a hit-and-run accident near the Bois de Boulogne. He died a few days later in hospital, without having regained consciousness.
Sulivan had quite a traditional upbringing. He lost his father in the trenches during the first World War, then endured the pain of seeing his mother remarry in order to hold on to the family farm. He remained deeply attached to his mother and her deep faith may have been instrumental in his decision to become a priest. Unlike her, however, Sulivan adopted a questioning approach to the Gospel, and later to his priestly ministry. Some of his confrèresdubbed him the " curé rouge" because of his avant-garde views.
After ordination he was sent to work in a Catholic lycée(secondary school) in Rennes (1938-58), where he would later also work as chaplain to the university. He was responsible for setting up a cinéclub and cultural centre which attracted some of the most famous filmmakers and writers to the Breton capital. All this time, a literary vocation was taking root, but his first novel, Le Voyage intérieur, did not appear until 1958. Luckily, he enjoyed the support of an enlightened cardinal, Emile Roques, who allowed him the freedom to pursue the unusual vocation of priest-writer.
Sulivan's reputation was established after his third novel, Mais il y a la mer, was awarded the Grand Prix catholique de literaturein 1964. Suddenly he was seen as the natural successor to the Catholic novelists Georges Bernanos and François Mauriac. But Sulivan did not want to be placed in a literary straitjacket and he realised that the period during which he wrote, the 1960s and 1970s, demanded a different approach to the one adopted by his predecessors. As he wrote in Petite littérature individuelle(1971): "It is in creativity that the future of Christian writers lies if they want to be something other than specialists, scribes or efficient instruments in the market of religion".
Hence he began to develop a disjointed style with little or no punctuation and even less plot. In his most challenging novel, Joie errante(1974), he addressed the following challenge to his readers: "Your anxiety moves me. [. . .] You would like an accomplished book which would grab you by the throat! I don't want to lie to that extent. Why should I allow myself to be carried along by the mechanics of a plot? [. . .] Why should I extend for you this trap, while I'd hide behind the smooth rampart of literature, totally unblemished, watching you look at yourselves, delighted with my posturing?" Lines like these reveal his distrust of literature, or at the very least Sulivan's suspicion with regard to a certain interpretation of literature which tries to present a clear image of a world in crisis.
Sulivan knew that he had a slightly paradoxical attitude because he refused to employ a detached, objective form of narration, well-constructed characters and classical story-lines. Like the guru (he spent time in an Indian ashram during the 1960s), Sulivan tells people that they must find meaning within themselves and not look to him for spiritual guidance.
His characters, many of whom are based on people he knew, find life at the centre of society stifling and they thus migrate towards the margins in search of spiritual rejuvenation. Many are completely transformed when deprived of material and physical comforts. Witness the journalist Daniel Dorme in Les mots à la gorgewho leaves his job, his wife and daughter in order to live as a tramp. He wanders around the streets of the city in "glorious dishonour" because he is no longer obliged to wear the conventional mask that hid his true self from the world. After a time, he feels as though he is the privileged one, he who has nothing, he who has been "chosen" in a way. As he notes: "Everything has fallen on top of me, everything has taken place without my being able to control it. I have become a happy fool".
The author of 10 novels (three of which are available in translation), two collections of short stories, a spiritual journal ( Morning Light) and a moving memoir (Anticipate Every Goodbye), Sulivan possessed a prophetic voice that resonates in a particular way in a time of crisis like the one we are currently experiencing in this country.
A final quote, from Morning Light (1976), is particularly apposite: “Can you imagine him [Jesus], like our shrewd modern bishops, trying to use democracy to impose Christian laws regarding divorce and abortion on non-Christians? As if Christian morality doesn’t have to come to birth freely in each individual conscience!”