Postcards and Proofs 1979–1981 319
As he recounted in a letter to Nancy and Lacoue-Labarthe during
August, ‘by a strange twist of fate’, Derrida met Michel Delorme at
the Fondation Maeght in Saint-Paul-de-Vence and mentioned these
diffi culties to him.
He was immediately eager and enthusiastic (in his own style,
which you know – he had heard about the conference). He
suggests publishing it all in one big volume as early as next
January or February if the manuscript is submitted in October.
He wants to do things in grand style – nice cover, big circula-
tion, etc.!!! All this happened in ten minutes’ conversation on
the stairs: I told him that I’d talk to you about it without delay,
as the fi nal decision is yours.
What do you think? Personally, while regretting the loss
of the Flammarion ‘paperback’, I feel that Galilée is the best
solution because it will be quick and Delorme is obviously very
keen.^32Nancy and Lacoue-Labarthe naturally expressed their agreement
with Derrida’s analysis, and looked forward to this almost exhaus-
tive publication (there were gaps in the recording of some of the
discussions). But the technical organization of the manuscript was
very time-consuming: the work would need to be shared. ‘You can at
least count on Sylviane and me,’ Derrida announced.^33 The project
was completed with remarkable speed, without the delays experi-
enced at Aubier and Flammarion. In spring 1981, a huge volume of
704 dense pages, with an original cover by Valerio Adami, was pub-
lished by Galilée. In spite of the many contributions, noted Nancy
and Lacoue-Labarthe in their introduction, the proceedings of this
conference could give only a very partial idea ‘of what really took
place, over ten summer days, at Cerisy: confrontation (sometimes a
real clash), questioning (sometimes real interrogation), collaboration
and friendship (sometimes a real party atmosphere)’.^34
Autumn was marked by a tragedy. On Sunday, 16 November 1980,
at 7 a.m., Louis Althusser, who had left the clinic for a few days’
leave, hammered on the door of Pierre Étienne, the doctor at the
École Normale Supérieure: ‘Pierre, come and see, I think I’ve killed
Hélène!’, he yelled, wild-eyed. The doctor slipped on a dressing
gown and went with the man who had been his friend for over thirty
years. Hélène Althusser, née Rytmann and known in the Resistance
by the name Légotien, was lying at the foot of her bed, strangled. As
Dominique Dhombres relates,
Louis Althusser was extremely agitated. ‘Do something or
I’ll set the bloody place on fi re,’ he told the doctor. He kept