When we think of punk, we first think of music. However, punk literature has its own icons (Lydia Lunch, Kathy Acker, David Wojnarowicz), themes (despair, extreme experiences), and style (crucified language, compulsion for repetition, breaking of forms). It struggles to make an impact in France because in our country, there is a taste for pretty phrases and polished structures.
Céline was nonetheless considered punk – without the political color. And the genre has been spreading since the 80s. Destroy has become cool. Virginie Despentes has brought it into the limelight of literary awards: she spits her titles in our faces and rejects the system, yet her punchlines please the media.
In the shadows of the celebrated, there are rebels not yet tamed. JB Hanak is one of them. Once known as a musician – he screamed his inaudible phrases over the infernal loops of dDamage – he made a thunderous entrance into the world of books with “Sales chiens” (Léo Scheer, 2022).
He recounted his furious tours with his brother, whose imminent death provided a dramatic counterpoint. The urgency of writing mirrored that of concerts, then the incredible speed of the fallout. The novel was notable for its hallucinatory evocation of a little-known world of literature, that of hardcore music, as well as the tension worthy of a Safdie brothers film.
He returns with “Bâtards”, which could be a sequel if it didn’t go back in time, focusing on an episode from the group’s life, a tour in Japan. The author not only offers new anecdotes: he steps back to dive deeper into the portrait of this missing brother, explaining where this passion for music comes from, delving into childhood memories within a working-class family marked by the harshness of labor and cultural schizophrenia.
Do not fear short paragraphs, bone-dry sentences, or a wealth of aphorisms. The novel hides a true document on Japan. This society governed by rules and rituals could exasperate our duo of desperados. Not at all: beneath the manic appearance sleep the fierce energies of a youth ready for confrontation. The group plants its concerts in improbable places like catharses.
The mishaps are numerous, leading to memorable scenes – nighttime illuminations, conflicts at the crossroads of loves and enmities. Drug legislation, managing relationships, the economy of noise in the city, all well-crafted vignettes.
The author excels at discussing music. He sprinkles in pointed references – harsh noise, hardcore techno, breakcore. He especially describes the rise of noise madness in confined spaces. Each concert aims to be a collective prayer, a progressive journey towards the obliteration of consciousness.
The musician-narrator finds an opportunity to purge the tensions regarding his youth and his relationship with that brother who haunts him. It is here that the metaphor of the dog, running through both works, originates: Ourko is that imaginary dog who accompanies the sick brother, protects him, and expresses his feelings.
The tour continues, the conflicts pile up, the crescendo leads to a finale of love and violence. The reader then realizes that punk is a form of romanticism: beneath the screams, beneath the avalanche of beats and substances, lie persistent desires for peace and the absolute.
Released on April 11.
By Guest Author Contact: contact@actualitte.com
