102 Jackie 1930–1962
constant interest, coming even before my philosophical inter-
est, I would say, if this is possible, is toward literature, toward
that writing that is called literary.
What is literature? And fi rst of all, what is it to write? How is
it that writing can disturb the very question ‘what is?’ and even
‘what does it mean?’ To say this in other words – and here is
the saying otherwise that was of importance to me – when and
how does an inscription become literature and what takes place
when it does? To what and to whom is this due? What takes
place between philosophy and literature, science and literature,
politics and literature, theology and literature, psychoanalysis
and literature? It was here, in all the abstractness of its title,
that lay the most pressing question.^19Jean Hyppolite was probably perplexed by this unusual subject
with its still vague outlines, but accepted the projected thesis, while
assuring Derrida that he could change the title once he had made
progress with the writing. Hyppolite declared that he was happy
to learn that the translation of The Origin of Geometry was almost
fi nished. Confi rming that he was prepared to publish the text in the
series he directed, ‘Épiméthée’, he invited Derrida to write to the
Presses Universitaires de France so that they could take the neces-
sary steps with the Dutch publisher of the Husserliana. Hyppolite
announced that he would not be able to read the translation
properly before the vacation, but his fi rst impressions were very
favourable. He advised Derrida to embark without delay on the
commentary, with the hope that his military activities would not
absorb too much of his energy. Soon he could return to France and
start his real career. ‘Keep me informed about your relations with
secondary education,’ concluded the director of Normale Sup. ‘You
can rest assured that I’ll be thinking of you and your future plans.’^20
Even though he still had a few more months in Koléa, Jackie was
indeed wondering what would become of him after the long inter-
mission of his service. There was some question of terminale classes
in the lycée at La Flèche, a rather remote town in the middle of the
Sarthe, but soon his former fellow student Gérard Genette informed
him that there might be a post with him in Le Mans, with a terminale
and an hypokhâgne, a prospect which seemed much more attractive.
The headmaster was trying to get rid of M. Fieschi, a philosophy
teacher who was much too eccentric and laid-back for his taste.
Genette had spoken to him about Derrida in more than fl attering
terms. Now they would need to make contact with the ministry
so that these plans could take shape. If it all worked out, Derrida
would still need to decide whether it would be better to live in Paris
or settle in Le Mans. The question could be summarized as follows:
‘Travel (with two return journeys per week) is physically and espe-