328 Derrida 1963–1983
before his arrival in the United States, de Man referred one day in
conversation to a novel by Henri Thomas whose main character was
based on him: this text, called Hölderlin in America when fi rst pub-
lished in a review, was given the title The Liar when it came out with
Gallimard. ‘It’s less fl attering, but much more truthful,’ de Man
added, in premonitory fashion, in a 1977 letter.^57 Ever since then,
Derrida had been looking for the book in a more or less desultory
way. It was during the Easter holidays of 1981 that he fi nally found
it, in a second-hand bookstore in Nice. As soon as he had read it,
he wrote to de Man: ‘I can’t tell you any more, but all the same, I
can’t remain silent about the fact that reading The Liar [.. .] has
made a great impression on me, even overwhelmed me, has in any
case roused deep echoes in me, “unheimlich”, in other words with
and without surprise. But I’m already saying too much.’^58 It is true
that the subject of the novel is far from anodyne. Chalier, the main
character, is accused of bigamy: before marrying a young American
woman, he has sworn on oath that he has never been married or
divorced, but an inquiry later reveals that he has been married in
Europe, with two children. ‘What did anyone know about those
years before America?’ the narrator wonders. The question would
rebound tragically on de Man a few years later. And Derrida reread
Henri Thomas’s novel closely, probably dreaming of the confi den-
tial details to which this reading might have given access if de Man
and he had not shared the same liking for secrets.^59
After the trials and tribulations of the start of the year, the summer
of 1981 was rather ‘restorative’ for Derrida. ‘I’m not working, so to
speak, or I’m letting myself work [.. .] without knowing, less than
ever, where I’m going, where it’s going – but fortunately “it’s going”
better than at the worst times of this winter.’^60 Pierre was in New
York, with Avital’s family, and the news about Jean’s health was a
little more reassuring. But Derrida was all the more anxious about
the new academic year since, for the fi rst time in several years, he
could not spend the start of the autumn in Yale.
The mathematician Georges Poitou had just succeeded Jean
Bousquet as head of Normale Sup and many of the teaching staff
there were worried at the possibility of ‘a new policy, perhaps a
new structure’. In Althusser’s absence, Derrida’s presence during
the fi rst days of term had become indispensable. But this situation
made him feel oppressed and sad: ‘At times I have an overwhelming
nostalgia (I am measuring my words) for my autumns in Yale. What
a life.. .’,^61 he confi ded to de Man. At Yale too, even though they
knew he would be coming in the spring, Derrida was greatly missed.
Geoff rey Hartman admitted: ‘I’m afraid we’ve all become addicted
to your presence, and September seems very empty without you.’^62
Derrida continued to kick his heels at Normale Sup. Even though