60 Jackie 1930–1962
middle of the square courtyard there is a pond with a fountain, and
goldfi sh called ‘Ernests’ (from ENS): ‘ernestisation’ involves throw-
ing a student into the pond. The ‘aquarium’ is the main entrance hall
on the ground fl oor. ‘Pot’ designates the École’s restaurant, where
meals are served in the morning, at noon, and in the evening. By
extension, ‘pot’ refers to pretty much everything related, in whatever
way, to food. The cleaning women and more generally all the service
technicians are called ‘sioux’.^1
Even though this normalien mentality would irritate Derrida more
and more as the years went by, he initially accepted it gladly, and did
not grumble at taking part in a bit of good-natured ragging which
involved students prising off street signs with the names of former
pupils on them, or causing consternation among the clientele of the
‘Rumpelmayer’ tea room by uttering some incongruous remark.
Jackie did not fail to attend either the École ball, which takes place
every winter and where a tuxedo is de rigueur, or the much more
relaxed garden party at the beginning of June. And he got plenty of
laughs in the annual review, with a highly polished number as a pied
noir gangster, with his hat pulled down over his face.^2
In a half-serious, half-parodic fashion, he also drew up a motion
on the so-called ‘special diet’ table, before getting several other stu-
dents to sign it, including Emmanuel Le Roy-Ladurie. In these two
pages of typescript, he highlighted the main causes of frustration,
including the way meat had systematically been replaced by ham,
while pâté de tête, sausage, and mushy peas were too prominent
on the menu. Above all, the quantities of every kind of food except
soup were inadequate:
The starters have been stopped. Why? Perhaps we may take the
liberty of stimulating the chef’s imagination by suggesting that
he choose from those vulgar fruits, tomatoes and olives, and
that inexpensive root: carrots, either grated or raw. [.. .]
Among the scraps used to feed us, we fi nd, this evening, a
camembert. It was, a considerable time ago, cut into slices that
are approaching the consistency of brick. You be the judge:
allow us to present you with this piece of evidence. [.. .]
It is necessary to dispel the idea that the patients we are (to
our regret) are privileged beings who demand a richer, better
food than ordinary, while we would in fact be happy with a
diff erent kind of food, so long as it is good for us.^3Initially, Jackie continued to go, whenever he could, to the dietary
restaurant at Port-Royal. But after a few months, his health had
improved suffi ciently for him no longer to need to eat at the special
food table, at Normale Sup or anywhere else. Now that he had
a bit of money, he could more easily take advantage of the local