Νάδα

by Jean-Patrick Manchette, Γιάννης Καυκιάς (Translator)

"Έκανα λάθος", είπε ξαφνικά. "Η αριστερίστικη τρομοκρατία και η κρατική τρομοκρατία, αν και τα κίνητρά τους δεν επιδέχονται σύγκριση, είναι οι δύο μασέλες της..."
Δίστασε.
"...της ίδιας παγίδας για μαλάκες", τελείωσε τη φράση του και συνέχισε αμέσως: "Το καθεστώς αμύνεται, φυσικά, έναντι της τρομοκρατίας. Αλλά το σύστημα δεν αμύνεται, την ενθαρρύνει, τη διαφημίζει. Ο ντεσπεράδο είναι ένα εμπόρευμα, μια αξία ανταλλαγής, ένα πρότυπο συμπεριφοράς, όπως ο μπάτσος ή η αγία. Το κράτος ονειρεύεται ένα τέλος φρικιαστικό και θριαμβευτικό μέσα στο θάνατο, μέσα στον απολύτως γενικευμένο εμφύλιο πόλεμο ανάμεσα στις ορδές των μπάτσων και των μισθοφόρων του, από τη μια, και στις ομάδες του μηδενισμού, από την άλλη. Είναι η παγίδα που στήνεται στους επαναστατημένους, και πιάστηκα σ' αυτή. Και δεν θα είμαι ο μόνος. Κι αυτό μου τη σπάει πολύ".

Το "Νάδα", διεθνώς αναγνωρισμένο ως το καλύτερο νουάρ μυθιστόρημα που υπέγραψε ο Μανσέτ, γνωστό και από την περίφημη ταινία του Κλωντ Σαμπρόλ, εκτυλίσσεται την εποχή που οι κύκλοι των αριστεριστών στη Γαλλία αναρωτιούνται για την ανάγκη τρομοκρατικών ενεργειών, αντίστοιχων με εκείνες που συμβαίνουν σε άλλες χώρες της Ευρώπης.

Genres: Fiction, Crime, Noir, France, Mystery, French Literature, Novels

244 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1972

About the author

Jean-Patrick Manchette was a French crime novelist credited with reinventing and reinvigorating the genre. He wrote ten short novels in the seventies and early eighties, and is widely recognized as the foremost French crime fiction author of the 1970s - 1980s . His stories are violent, existentialist explorations of the human condition and French society.

Manchette was politically to the left and his writing reflects this through his analysis of social positions and culture. His books are reminiscent of the nouvelle vague crime films of Jean-Pierre Melville, employing a similarly cool, existential style on a typically American genre (film noir for Melville and pulp novels for Manchette).

Three of his novels have been translated into English. Two were published by San Francisco publisher City Lights Books (3 To Kill [from the French "Le petit bleu de la côte ouest"] and The Prone Gunman [from the French "La Position du tireur couché"]). A third, Fatale, was released by New York Review Books Classics in 2011.

Manchette believed he had gone full circle with his last novel, which he conceived as a "closure" of his Noir fiction. In a 1988 letter to a journalist, Manchette said:

" After that, as I did not have to belong to any kind of literary school, I entered a very different work area. In seven years, I have not done anything good. I'm still working at it."

In 1989, finally having found new territory he wanted to explore, Manchette started writing a new novel, La Princesse du Sang" ("Blood Princess"), an international thriller, which was supposed to be the first book in a new cycle, a series of novels covering five decades from the post-war period to present times. He died from cancer before completing it.

Starting in 1996, a year after Manchette's death, several unpublished works were released, showing how very active he was during in the years preceding his death.


In 2009, Fantagraphics Books released an English-language version of French cartoonist Jacques Tardi's adaptation of Le petit bleu, under the new English title 'West Coast Blues.' Fantagraphics released a second Tardi adaptation, of "La Position du tireur couché" (under the title "Like a Sniper Lining Up His Shot" ) in the summer of 2011, and has scheduled a third one, of "Ô Dingos! Ô Châteaux!" (under the title "Run Like Crazy Run Like Hell") in summer 2014. Manchette himself was a fan of comics, and his praised translation of Alan Moore's Watchmen into French remains in print.

Reviews

[Glenn Russell]

Nada publishes this month, the first time ever Jean-Patrick Manchette's 1972 tour de force supercool noir novel is available in English. Thank you, New York Review Books!

"Nada is a remarkable book. At the time of its publication, there was nothing like it outside of Manchette's work; novels and politics kept separate bedrooms...Manchette essentially launched an industry of left-wing thrillers."

The above quote is from Luc Sante's Introduction in this NYRB edition. And let me tell you, Nada makes for one thrilling read - full throttle, nonstop action and sharply drawn characters, most notably the ragtag bunch of Leftest terrorists forming the Nada gang.

Although, like many artists, writers and intellectuals back in 1960s France, Jean-Patrick Manchette joined Communist youth organizations, he was not at all a supporter of terrorists. Luc Sante includes an entry from Manchette's diary: "Politically, they are a public hazard, a true catastrophe for the revolutionary movement. The collapse of leftism into terrorism is the collapse of the revolution into spectacle."

One of the most spectacular, newsworthy schemes back in those Paris years was kidnapping a high-ranking official - precisely the plan of the Nada gang. But that's all I'll say about plot since I wouldn't want to spoil a reader's experience of turning the pages to find out what happens next. Rather, here's a snip about key members of the Nada gang and several other highlights that makes this Manchette cinema-like tale sizzle and pop:

Épaulard - Fifty-year-old with a long history - member of the French Resistance, Algerian National Liberation Front, FTP combatant, hired killer. Nowadays, Épaulard is a man alone, a study in existential alienation and absurdity right off the pages of Jean-Paul Sartre or Albert Camus or André Malraux.

Buenaventura - Revolution and Marxism are in his Spanish blood (his father died in 1937 defending the Barcelona Commune), so much so he's a professional revolutionary. Manchette frequently refers to him simply as the Catalan, a thirty-something hombre who thrives on violence.


Fabio Testi playing Buenaventura in the film based on the novel looks like a cross between Clint Eastwood and Julio Cortázar

Cash - Attractive, athletic, youthful gal who wants in on the action. She lets the Nada gang use the farmhouse where she's living at the moment. Why would she take such a risk? As she says: "Boring, easy tasks are not my thing. I don't know what my style is. I'm nothing but a little whore." Cash has a head full of popular culture, telling Épaulard he looks like Roger Vailland and "I'm a character like the young bourgeois girl in Playing with Fire." Cash might not be exactly a Marxist but she sure hates those dirty capitalists. In many ways, most notably in her expert handling and firing a submachine gun, Cash is a precursor of hyper-violent killer, Aimée Joubert, Manchette's main character in his novel Fatale.



Treuffais - Twenty-five year old philosophy teacher and intellectual who writes up the Nada manifesto, the type of revolutionary disinclined to support violent action unless all the consequences are reviewed and understood in detail. If this sounds like he might be too heady, you're probably spot-on. The kind of guy who, when he slams his car door shut in a fit of anger, usually gets his fingers caught in the window.

Politics - Once the politicians get wind of the kidnapping and then a bit of unexpected inside information, not only is there a storm raised about an entire string of Leftists and radicals, but those very politicians and public agencies quickly are at each other's throats. And, it almost goes without saying, the State will take this terrorist incident to cast guilt on all those repulsive undesirables. "And while we're at it nab as many operatives of the Grabeliau faction as possible, including SAC dissidents. We could even accuse them of being in cahoots with the kidnappers, so discrediting everybody in one fell swoop."

Media - As expected, the kidnapping also revved up newspapers and television - Le Monde: "The style is disgusting and the childishness of certain statements of an archaic and unalloyed anarchism might raise a smile in other circumstances. In the present situation, however, they inspire disquiet, a deep anxiety in face of the nihilism embraced, seemingly with delight, bu this Nada group, which chose such an apt name for itself but which, in its text as in its actions, expresses itself in an utterly unjustifiable way."

Slick and Shiny - in vintage Jean-Patrick Manchette style, objects, particularly cars and guns, are given a special call-out: Renault 15, 2CV, Citroën DS21, Stern submachine gun, Colt Cobra, .22 LR bullets. It's as if in our modern world, the snotty, misshapen sack of shit, piss, blood, bones and guts that makes up a human can't compete with the unchanging beauty and elegance of our surrounding brand-name products.

High Culture, Pop Culture - Jean-Patrick Manchette's signature nod to literature and the arts: "he looked like a brigand in a neorealist version of Carmen; Le Canard Enchainè will have a field day; a sign that says: "Be Like Everyone - Read Frane-Soir"; he tried to read Jonathan Latimer's The Dead Don't Care; reading The Greening of America. Hey, these men and women of Paris might want to destroy one another, but each and every one is hip to what's happening all around them.

Nada Gang - Events surrounding this motley anarcho-terrorist squad quickly take on a kind of grandeur until we have a sense we are witnessing the stuff of Greek tragedy. However, you will have to pick up a copy of Nada and judge the veracity of this statement for yourself.

Coda - It gives me great joy to be the first on Goodreads to share a review of Nada written in English. Jean-Patrick Manchette is one of my favorites. I've posted reviews on the five other novels of his that have been translated into English.


Jean-Patrick Manchette, 1942-1995

"Épaulard sat up in bed. He grimaced. His nighttime efforts had earned him aching muscles. He delved into the pockets of his pants, which were lying on the floor, and found cigarettes and matches. He smoked in the gray half-light. He could not visualize the future. He did not believe that the ransom would be paid or that he would be rich the following week. He did not even see himself living that long." - Jean-Patrick Manchette, Nada

[Eliasdgian · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Αδιαφορώ αν είμαι πολιτικά σωστός ή ηλίθιος. Είμαστε δημιουργήματα της σύγχρονης ιστορίας, και τούτο αποδεικνύει ότι ο πολιτισμός τρέχει προς τον χαμό του, με τον έναν ή τον άλλο τρόπο, και, πιστέψτε με, προτιμώ να πεθάνω μέσα στο αίμα παρά μέσα στα σκατά”.

Ένοπλη αναρχική ομάδα απάγει τον πρεσβευτή των Η.Π.Α. στο Παρίσι από το μπουρδέλο που συνήθιζε να επισκέπτεται κάθε Παρασκευή βράδυ. Απαγωγείς και θύμα καταφεύγουν σε μια απομονωμένη αγροικία, όμως η αστυνομία δεν θα αργήσει να εντοπίσει τα ίχνη τους.

Εξτρεμιστές που είναι αποφασισμένοι να πουλήσουν ακριβά το τομάρι τους και μπάτσοι που για να διαφυλάξουν την ‘κοινωνική ειρήνη’ δεν διστάζουν να παραβιάσουν τον νόμο, οδηγούνται σε μια φρενιτιώδη συμπλοκή που δεν μπορεί παρά να καταλήξει στο αίμα. Κι επειδή, ως γνωστόν, η ζωή αντιγράφει την τέχνη, έξι χρόνια μετά τη δημοσίευση του Νάδα, μέλη των Ερυθρών Ταξιαρχιών απήγαγαν και δολοφόνησαν τον Άλντο Μόρο στη Ρώμη.

Κορυφαίο στο είδος του, magnum opus στο συγγραφικό σύμπαν του Jean-Patrick Manchette, το Νάδα συστήνεται ανεπιφύλακτα σε όλους.

[Josh · Rating 3 out of 5]

(3.5) Read this more or less in a sitting or two.

Probably not one of his best (Fatale, The Mad and the Bad, or Three to Kill is where I'd start), but definitely not bad. Violent as hell, but that's to be expected.

Glad to revisit him after so long.

Generic review because I honestly don't feel like describing it too much. Enjoyable for what it was.

[Solistas · Rating 5 out of 5]

Απ'τα βιβλία που σε αναγκάζουν να βουλιάξεις στην πλάτη του καθίσματος σου λες κ να αναπτύσσεις ταχύτητα σε σπορ αυτοκίνητο. Ο Μανσέτ με ιστορία στην αριστερά της Γαλλίας (είχε περάσει κ απ'τους καταστασιακούς του Ντεμπόρ) κυκλοφορεί αυτό το βιβλίο το 1973 κ θέτει με εξαιρετικό τρόπο τα πολιτικά ερωτήματα που κυριαρχούσαν τότε κ σε μικρότερο βαθμό συνεχίζουν μέχρι σήμερα. Η χρησιμότητα της ένοπλης πάλης που πάντα εμφανίζεται μετά το τέλος των εκάστοτε εξεγέρσεων κ η αντιμετώπισή της όχι μόνο απ'το τα "πάνω" αλλά κι απ΄τις υπόλοιπες ομάδες της αριστεράς είναι οι κύριοι προβληματισμοί πίσω απ'αυτό το υπέροχο βιβλίο που έσπασε το αμερικανικό μονοπώλιο στην αστυνομική λογοτεχνία κ οδήγησε στο neo-polar που τις επόμενες δεκαετίες μας χάρισε υπέροχα βιβλία από πολλούς συγγραφείς (Ιζζο, Ατιά, Ζονκέ, Ρενάλ κτλ.)

Η αναρχική ομάδα Νάδα αποφασίζει την απαγωγή του αμερικανού πρεσβευτή στην Γαλλία. Ο Μανσέτ φροντίζει απ'την πρώτη σελίδα να ξεκαθαρίσει το αιματηρό φινάλε της συγκεκριμένης ενέργειας κ με αυτό το τρόπο αφήνει τον αναγνώστη να προβληματιστεί πάνω στα θέματα που θέτει, προσφέροντας ταυτόχρονα αληθινή ευχαρίστηση σε όσους βρουν 2 ώρες για να απολαύσουν ένα απ'τα καλύτερα νουάρ μυθιστορήματα που έχω διαβάσει ποτέ.

Το Νάδα είναι μόλις ο δεύτερος Μανσέτ που διαβάζω (μετά το σκοπευτή) κ αυτό είναι ένα λάθος που θα διορθωθεί πολύ σύντομα.

[tortoise dreams · Rating 4 out of 5]

A motley crew of political revolutionaries in Paris decide to kidnap the American ambassador.

Mystery Review: Nada is told at times almost like a police report. A stripped down, hard-boiled means of description that may at times evolve into something like familiar novelistic exposition, and only periodically touch the level of human emotions. More caper story or thriller than mystery. Although the conspirators are Marxists, anarchists, nihilists, communists, or just lost or confused alcoholics, this isn't primarily a political novel. Instead it addresses the aftermath of the rage of the Sixties when society hit a dead end, burned out, without direction. When it wasn't clear that politics meant anything any more. In the midst of the cold description, the hopeless eyes, the dead dreams, the moments of humanity that Jean-Patrick Manchette (1942-95) gives us become all that more precious. Rather than politics, he shares moments of philosophy, psychology, sociology. In Nada Manchette was trying to write a modern, maybe peculiarly French version of noir. His characters are uniquely his own. A moll brags: "My cool and chic exterior hides the wild flames of a burning hatred for ... techno-bureaucratic-capitalism," but she believes in "universal harmony." Each of the conspirators have their own origin story, and together they're emblematic of the debris of society: "Modern history created us, which only shows that civilization is on the eve of destruction." Manchette, or at least his characters, seems to think society was in the midst of an upheaval rivaling that which existed after the First World War. Bureaucracy, the media, and desperation drive the story. Evil wears many faces. Nada isn't short on violence or gore, but is a thoughtful thrill ride that can be pure entertainment, or give the reader pause to reflect on the humanity around us. [4★]

[Damian Murphy · Rating 5 out of 5]

Aside from Simenon, I generally have no interest in crime fiction, but Manchette really knows how to do it. The book is crammed with unexpected peculiarities which consistently keep it from settling into cliché. Idiosyncrasy is the soul of literature, in my view, and Manchette wields it like a rapier, forever coming in at odd and unexpected angles to keep the reader on their toes.

[Βρόσγος Άντυ]

Το Nada είναι ένα βιβλίο που μυρίζει ακόμα καπνό από τα οδοφράγματα του Μάη του ’68 — όχι εκείνον τον ζωηρό καπνό της εξέγερσης, αλλά τον μουντό, πικρό καπνό που μένει όταν όλα έχουν τελειώσει. Ο Jean-Patrick Manchette γράφει το 1972, σε μια Γαλλία όπου η ουτοπία έχει ήδη υποχωρήσει. Οι δρόμοι έχουν καθαρίσει, οι φωνές έχουν χαμηλώσει, και ό,τι απέμεινε από την επανάσταση είναι ένας ψυχρός μηχανισμός βίας, τόσο στον δρόμο όσο και μέσα στο μυαλό των ανθρώπων.

Μια μικρή ομάδα αριστεριστων και ενος αναρχικου αποφασίζει να απαγάγει τον Αμερικανό πρέσβη στο Παρίσι — πράξη που, αν γινόταν λίγα χρόνια νωρίτερα, θα είχε ίσως κάτι το ηρωικό. Στο Nada, όμως, μοιάζει περισσότερο με πράξη απόγνωσης. Οι ήρωες δεν πιστεύουν πια ότι αλλάζουν τον κόσμο· προσπαθούν απλώς να του αποσπάσουν μια τελευταία κραυγή. Όμως η κραυγή αυτή, όπως δείχνει ο Manchette, χάνεται μέσα στο θόρυβο των μηχανισμών της εξουσίας.
Η βία ειναι η μαμη της Ιστορίας είχε πει ο Μαρξ αλλα στο Nada του μεγάλου Μαρσεγιεζου στυλίστα μοιάζει με το ορφανό παιδί της.

[paper0r0ss0 · Rating 4 out of 5]

Buon noir asciutto e tirato ma al tempo stesso sufficientemente strano e originale da risultare intrigante e a tratti piacevolmente grottesco. La scrittura impeccabile e una misura non sempre presente in altri lavori di Manchette, ne fanno un libro senz'altro da leggere, anche perche' a piu' di quarant'anni di distanza, quella Francia risulta particolarmente interessante.

[Adam McPhee · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fast paced, brutal thriller that packs a punch.

Communist and anarchist veterans and conmen of the Spanish Civil War, French resistance and Algiers team up to kidnap an American ambassador from a brothel. To call it Leftist Tarantino would be a disservice to Manchette, but it gives you the idea. The dialogue is better than Tarantino (which is a surprise given it's a French thriller) and the violence more gruesome.

Couldn't help but think of Nada as a good counterpoint to Andreas Malm's recent book, How to Blow Up a Pipeline, of which I can't recommend this review by James Wilt in Canadian Dimension highly enough. ("Malm is a scholar, not a cop, but this book veers awfully close to entrapment.")

Yes, we all want a better world and sometimes it almost seems like directing violence at the state is a shortcut to building it, or at least tearing this rotten world down. But even if you're willing to die a violent death (which Manchette does the opposite of romanticizing, see quotes below), the state has long since been able to absorb such violence by producing cynical counternarratives to dull the blows. Really the highlight of the novel is that Buenaventura Diaz, a Catalan gambler and professional revolutionary, comes to the see that revolutionary terrorism is not the answer:

He grasped the mike, pressed Record, and as the tape began to roll he stayed still for a moment with his mouth open and his face hardened as it had been in the early afternoon in the bathtub.

“I made a mistake,” he said abruptly. “Leftist terrorism and State terrorism, even if their motivations cannot be compared, are the two jaws of . . .”

He hesitated.

“. . . of the same mug’s game,” he concluded, and went on right away: “The regime defends itself, naturally, against terrorism. But the system does not defend itself against it. It encourages it and publicizes it. The desperado is a commodity, an exchange value, a model of behavior like a cop or a female saint. The State’s dream is a horrific, triumphant finale to an absolutely general civil war to the death between cohorts of cops and mercenaries on the one hand and nihilistic armed groups on the other. This vision is the trap laid for rebels, and I fell into it. And I won’t be the last. And that pisses me off in the worst way.”

The Catalan stared into the shadows and mechanically rubbed his mouth with his hand. He had a vision of his father, whom he had never seen. The man was on a barricade, or more precisely in the process of stepping over it, with one leg up in the air; it was the evening of May 4, 1937, in Barcelona, and the revolutionary proletariat had risen against the bourgeoisie and the Stalinists. In a fraction of a second a bullet was going to strike Buenaventura’s father, and in a fraction of a second he would be dead, while in a few days the Barcelona Commune would be crushed and very soon its memory would be buried in calumny.

“The condemnation of terrorism,” Buenaventura said into the mike, “is not a condemnation of insurrection but a call to insurrection.”

He interrupted himself once more, and a snicker twisted his lips.

“Consequently,” he added, “I pronounce the Nada group dissolved.”

He stopped recording.

“And with unanimous support yet again!” he shouted in the darkness. “The old traditions must be respected.”

He took the cassette from the recorder, thrust it into another envelope, which he closed and on which he wrote: First and Last Theoretical Contribution of Buenaventura Diaz to His Own History.

There's a gallows humour here that I love too. The intro compares Buenaventura Diaz to a gunman from a spaghetti western, and once you have that frame in place the revolutionary half of the book reads like a Sergio Leone film. Meanwhile, the cops investigating the kidnapping are closer to an Armando Iannucci production. It turns out the brothel the ambassador is being kidnapped from is under surveillance by an unofficial parallel police force reporting directly to the French president and connected to a French version of the P2 lodge (I know there's actual French history Manchette is alluding to, but I can't be bothered to look it up right now). Their cooperation has to be bargained for, and ultimately the police decide to kill the leftists in a staged shootout simply to control the narrative and investigations that will emerge from the action.

Favourite quotes:

Violence: “It’s seven o’clock. Perhaps we could go for a bite?”
“If you want an expert opinion,” said Épaulard, “we shouldn’t go for a bite. The trick is to have an empty stomach in case of a gut shot.”
“A real optimist, this guy,” said D’Arcy.

More: Being of pulmonary origin, the blood was full of bubbles and it foamed like spilt beer.

The ambassador seems disappointed his kidnappers won't debate ideology with him, but in truth they realize they no longer have any. “I'M PERFECTLY awake now,” declared Richard Poindexter. “I want to speak to your leader.”
“There is no leader,” said Épaulard.
“All right, but you know what I mean.”
“We don’t have a leader. You can talk to me if you want to talk to someone.”
...
“As a rule he doesn’t yet know himself what that purpose is. I was a prisoner in Germany. You too, perhaps?”
“Don’t try to make me talk about myself.”
The ambassador chuckled. The door opened. D’Arcy came in.
“What’s up?”
“He’s wide-awake. He’s hungry.”
“You want a sandwich?” the alcoholic asked the ambassador. “Because you could also have something hot, but then you’d have to wait till dinnertime, quite a while.”
“As you wish, my friend,” said Poindexter. “I see I’m in good hands. I feel like a clam at high tide.”
“It’s obvious you’re a diplomat, smartass,” remarked D’Arcy. “I’ll bring you a sandwich.” To Épaulard, he added: “And relieve you.”
“Just what exactly are you?” Poindexter asked when the alcoholic had left. “Maoists?”
“You’ll find out later, er, smartass,” said Épaulard with annoyance.
What exactly was he? He couldn’t fucking say, and it bugged him.
“May I get dressed?” asked Poindexter.
“No.”
“Are you expecting to hold me for long?”
“You’ll see.”
“Or to kill me?”
“If I told you that, where would be the surprise?” said Épaulard.
“I have no ashtray,” Poindexter complained.
“Throw your ash on the floor.”
The ambassador went quiet, smoking and looking at Épaulard, who was looking at him. After a moment he spoke again.
“Political kidnapping is not appropriate for a civilized people.”
“I’m not a civilized people.”
“Very funny,” said Poindexter with a disdainful smile.
Épaulard made no reply.
“Aren’t you going to try and convince me of the correctness of your political views?” asked the ambassador, staring at his cigarette.
“No.”
“I thought that was customary in such circumstances.”
“Kiddo, you were a high-level servant of the State. Now you are nothing, just a thing.”
“Why not just say it: a piece of shit.”
“No, a thing. A pitiful thing.”
“You’re anarchists,” said Poindexter. “I can tell because you said ‘servant of the State’ with such hatred.”
D’Arcy came in with two sandwiches on a plate.
“All right,” said Épaulard. “I think this conversation ends right here.”

Anarchism or Stendhal? COMMISSIONER Goémond ... contemplated the room of Buenaventura Diaz. He circled it cautiously, leaning over to make out the titles of two or three books piled up by the bed. His deputies circled in the opposite direction, sniffing about.
“Look here,” said one of them, “an anarchist pamphlet, Black and Red—plain enough, I’d say.”
“You’re a fool, man,” said Goémond. “That’s a novel by Stendhal.”
“Excuse me if I beg to differ,” said the deputy, “but this, this talks about ‘anarchist collectives in revolutionary Spain.’ You must be mixed up.”
“Let’s see. Oh, it’s true. That’s strange, I would have sworn . . . but you’re right: I must have been thinking of The Charterhouse of Parma. Okay, go through everything. I’m going back downstairs.”

The police negotiating the outcome of the hostage situation with themselves: “I’d be surprised if there were a showdown,” said Goémond. “French leftists have no guts. They will surrender.”
“They’ve already killed two people, including a motorcycle policeman.”
“Nevertheless, they will surrender.”
“To the contrary, I feel sure they’ll start shooting,” said the chief of staff.
Goémond gave him a sidelong glance and took out a little cigar, which he lit in a leisurely way to give himself time to reflect.
“Anyway,” the chief of staff added, “do you think it’s worth taking them alive?”
“If it were just up to me, I’d put them up against the wall, as you well know.”
“I know no such thing, Goémond.”
“All right, so I’m telling you now. But I’m thinking of their hostage, you see . . . An ambassador . . .”
“Indeed,” said the chief of staff. “If they eliminated him during an assault, how ghastly! It so happens that a slice of public opinion entertains a thoughtless sympathy for the far left, but such sympathy would be impossible to sustain if the leftists revealed their true nature by murdering a defenseless captive in cold blood.”“Yes,” mused Goémond, “and as for these people we’re looking for, they have already proved their viciousness by killing two policemen.”
“One policeman, Goémond. One policeman and one American house-staff member.”
“You’re right. What contempt for human life!” sighed the commissioner.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if they murdered their hostage,” said the chief of staff.
Goémond looked at him.
“And the minister, wouldn’t he be surprised?”
“No.”
“And the Americans, wouldn’t they be surprised?”
“Goémond, a disciplined police officer should not concern himself with politics, especially international politics. Must I remind you of that?”
“No, sir. Very well, sir,” said the commissioner.
...
A few chapters later: “All right,” sighed Goémond. “So I’m the scapegoat.”
“I’d be grateful if you refrained from using that absurd and tendentious word after you leave this office,” said the chief of staff, and he pursed his lips.
“Grateful to what degree?”

This is a really great sequence in the shootout (emphasis mine): “Fire!” cried Goémond at the top of his voice.
Electrified by his command, by the burst of submachine-gun fire, and by the fragments of wood raining down on their helmets, the gendarmes obeyed as one man. Windowpanes shattered around Épaulard. Amazed that he was not hit, the fifty-year-old wheeled and made a dash for the kitchen door and got the impression that someone had given him a big clap on the back. He closed his eyes and fell flat on his stomach on the tiled floor. Above him bullets buried themselves in the walls, ricocheted around the kitchen, shredded the sailing ship on a post office calendar, and riddled the fridge with holes.

“Where’s my piece?” asked Épaulard, slurring the words, but nobody answered.

At the same time, the fire from the gendarmes was ravaging the hutches backing onto the farmhouse’s rear, and rabbits could be seen flying up into the air, twirling and almost exploding, and heard squealing, which added to the pandemonium.

At the same time too, the gendarmerie officer, white with fury, had taken three steps sideways and was yelling for cease-fire when half the contents of Cash’s second magazine struck him in a scatter, most of the projectiles being pancaked by his bulletproof vest but others striking him in the head. He fell on his side and began screaming in pain. His cries were pitiful, unbearable. The gendarmes redoubled their fire so as not to hear them and to avenge their leader, and they were spurred on by Goémond’s megaphone.

State reaction to the kidnapping starts dry and somber, ends in farce: THE NEWS came over the radio in the late morning and gave rise to a brief special bulletin that was expanded and commented on at lunchtime, notably on television, where images appeared of “the tragic farmhouse,” the broken glass on the tiled floor, the ambassador’s coagulated blood, and the wrecked Jaguar. Pronouncements and cabled messages multiplied. Condolences of the French government to the ambassador’s widow, to the U.S. government. Communiqué from the minister of the interior announcing that order had been restored, taking credit for this, but at the same time warning everyone to be on guard against any recurrence of such excesses and hastening not to overlook the need to pay respectful homage to the memory of Richard Poindexter. Telegram from the Holy Father to the President of the Republic. Message from the Archbishop of Paris. Telegram from the prime minister to the family of the gendarmerie officer currently fighting for his life in a hospital bed. Congratulatory telegram from the minister of armies to the mobile gendarmerie group deployed at Couzy. Proclamation of a group of Bordigist militants denouncing law enforcement for opening fire without due warning on the farmhouse and thus being solely responsible for the death of the ambassador (a proclamation that almost prompted the minister of armies to bring defamation charges). Confidential message from the commander of the accused mobile gendarmerie force to the director of gendarmerie and military justice lodging a specific formal complaint against Commissioner Goémond (subsequent to which the minister of armies would abandon any defamation charges and request an urgent meeting with the minister of the interior). Communiqué from the Organisation Révolutionnaire Libertaire (ORL), a clandestine organization composed of twelve members, four of them undercover police agents, calling upon all revolutionaries to kill “at least fifty cops” to avenge the comrades killed at Couzy. Statement of Independent Union of Otorhinolaryngologists informing the public that ORLs had nothing to do with the above-mentioned organization. Etc., etc., etc.

This one page chapter cracked me up: ALL DAY Sunday myriads of identity checks were made across the department of Seine-et-Marne, as also in Paris, where fresh raids were mounted in known leftist circles. On Boulevard de la Chapelle a small, more or less spontaneous demonstration, accompanied by chants of “Goémond Is a Rat!” and the time-honored “The People Will Have Your Hide!” was dispersed, but skirmishes continued throughout the evening. Meanwhile, some Jewish shops were looted by Kabyles, and a Malian pimp was wounded by a revolver shot. At Place de l’Étoile, other demonstrators, from the New Order movement, were pushed back to Avenue Hoche, which they marched down shouting “Democracy stinks!” An orator from the ultrarightist Action Française Nationale Révolutionnaire, who referred bizarrely to the terrorists as “our strayed comrades,” was bludgeoned by the New Order militants.

[Christos · Rating 4 out of 5]

Άλλο ένα πολύ καλό νουάρ του Μανσέτ γεμάτο κινηματογραφική δράση που σε οδηγεί να γυρίζεις τις σελίδες αβίαστα. Ενδιαφέρον και οτι το βιβλίο περιγράφει μια πρακτική που εφάρμοσαν ευρέως κάποια χρόνια αργότερα τρομοκρατικές ομάδες στην Δυτική Ευρώπη. θέτοντας προβληματισμούς για το ρόλο της τρομοκρατίας αλλά και των πρακτικών καταστολής της και χειραγώγησης της από το κράτος.

[Liviu Szoke · Rating 3 out of 5]

Dacă San-Antonio ar fi scris în stilul său caracteristic o carte despre diversele facțiuni comuniste-fasciste-naționaliste-extremiste apărute în Franța după Al Doilea Război Mondial cu siguranță ar fi ieșit ceva în genul năucitorului roman al lui Jean-Patrick Manchette publicat în 1972 în Franța și tradus, iată, cincizeci de ani mai târziu și la noi la Editura Dezarticulat.

Un roman care iese din granițele genului polițist și pătrunde adânc în cel al ficțiunii istorice cu rădăcini bine înfipte în realitatea cotidiană de atunci, în care o gașcă de ciudați alcătuită din cele mai crunte specimene pe care le-a zămislit societatea extrem de frământată de după război visează să-l răpească pe ambasadorul american la Paris pentru a cere o răscumpărare consistentă. Numai că pe urmele lor pornește, deși cam târziu în carte, după părerea mea, un zurliu și mai și decât ei, iar totul se termină printr-o... Păi, ar cam trebui să citiți cartea de un umor savuros și de un absurd de-a dreptul grotesc ca să vă lămuriți ce și cum.

[Paul Dembina · Rating 4 out of 5]

A hardboiled caper novel published in 1972 and influenced by the left wing movements of the time. Actually rather entertaining, ultra violent and pretty nihilistic.

[Leyland · Rating 5 out of 5]

In the wake of 1968 in France, some Anarchists group together into the titular "Nada gang" to kidnap the U.S. Ambassador to France while he's at a brothel, escaping to the countryside. We get a short little thriller as we see the police track them down and the ensuing fallout.

I really loved this. I love the gang, I loved their disaffected attitude as they consider the utility of their kidnapping, I loved the portrayal of the tyrannical violence of the police. There's also some shades of "Burn After Reading" at the end, as Manchette takes us from the interplay between the brutal chief detective and the Nada gang, to show their actions as miniscule on the stage of international politics. He also brilliantly outlines the nature of state power and how it feasts on terrorist action--in one of the final scenes, the Catalan Buenaventura Diaz, one of the Nada is dictating his final thoughts, noting that he has fallen into the trap set by the state.

Now that I'm thinking about it: five stars. Masterclass.

[Cindy Landes · Rating 2 out of 5]

J’ai lu la moitié et j’étais toujours incapable de différencier les personnages. Je ne comprenais pas plusieurs termes … je ne sais pas si c’étaient des termes relatifs à la politique française que je ne connais pas ou plutôt des termes relatifs à l’époque où le livre a été écrit….
Bref, ça ne servait à rien de poursuivre ce livre 🤷‍♀️

[August · Rating 3 out of 5]

Solid, pulpy. Frenchie here has some thoughts on the nature of revolutionary violence but is most excited by guns and cigarettes so he talks about those a lot.

[Kusaimamekirai · Rating 4 out of 5]

As much as bloody mayhem and morally grey characters suffering from existential ennui can provide comfort, there’s a kind of comfort in reading Jean-Paul Manchette stories. The plots are more or less the same (some form of gangster/terrorist protagonist, usually philosophically inclined, with a gruesome finish where almost everyone dies horribly), yet somehow there is always something that feels fresh and dynamic.
There is also something in his prose style that is simultaneously humorous and relentlessly dark:

“ ‘I’m a murderer’, said D’Arcy.
‘Settle down’, said Epaulard. ‘You ran down an American agent and knocked out a cop. That’s all.’ ”

“(She) was mistaken: things would not go better tomorrow. Tomorrow they would be dead.”

“Nada” concerns a anarchist, terrorist cell of misfits in France with a fanciful plan to kidnap the American ambassador as he exits a whorehouse, then demand that their manifesto is broadcast by the media across the country or else they will kill him.
It’s a plan that has little chance of success and likely to end in death for everyone involved. Ideology trumps clinging to a meaningless life however (Long Live Death! is their motto) and they put their plan into action.
It does not go smoothly.
While this is a fun read, it’s probably not the place for readers new to Manchette to begin (“The Mad and the Bad” is a good place to start to get a sense of what he is all about).
If you like your hard boiled thrillers with a bit of existential dread, black humor, and anti-capitalist monologues, Manchette is your man.

[Tittirossa · Rating 3 out of 5]

Letto sull'onda dei consigli di Acosiani (nda: anobiani).
Un noir certamente degno di questo nome, scarno ed essenziale, senza rallentamenti (quante analisi psicologiche inutili capita di leggere), senza digressioni, senza giustificazioni per i protagonisti.
Il percorso narrativo fila come un treno, i caratteri sono tratteggiati in modo talmente vivo che me li vedevo davanti, e le descrizioni sono fantastiche. I personaggi - anche quelli collaterali - da manuale (La moglie psicopatica di Meyer è una trovata geniale, il Capo di Gabinetto anticipa il G8 ....).
Dunque ho solo complimenti per questo libro, eppure c'è qualcosa che non mi convince.
Non è certamente il primo noir (thriller, hardboiled, giallo, sono cresciuta a Chandler e Hammett) che leggo, ma non mi convince fino in fondo.

[Tosh · Rating 5 out of 5]

Started reading the book yesterday afternoon, and it was difficult for me to stop for meals, sleep, because it's essentially the perfect thriller. There is nothing new here, but that shouldn't stop the enjoyment of reading "Nada." Jean-Patrick Manchette, as far as I know ever written a weak novel. And I think "Nada" may be the best of the lot. For one, it does remind me of Richard Stark narrative. Manchette translated Donald Westlake's (Stark) novels into French, and clearly an influence on his own writing. A Stark novel is very much about organization or even society coming together in a sense. Or at the very least the main character, Hunter, is a fellow who brings order to chaos. Manchette brings chaos to order, and there is a political format or landscape that takes place in his novels. It's a reflection of society in turmoil. A wonderful novel.

[Fotis Ips · Rating 2 out of 5]

Ωραίο αστυνομικό μυθιστόρημα (περιπέτειας περισσότερο θα έλεγα), πού διαδραματίζεται στην επαναστατική Γαλλία λίγο μετά τα γεγονότα του '68.

Σας πλοκή κι υπόθεση δεν υπάρχουν εκπλήξεις και μυστήριο, καθώς η ιστορία αφορά την απαγωγή ενός πρεσβευτή απο την αριστερή οργάνωση ΝΑΔΑ για ιδεολογικούς κι επαναστατικούς σκοπούς κατά της εξουσίας. Πιστεύω όμως ότι ο Μάνσετ ήθελε να τονίσει τόσο τις ακρότητες όσο και τις επιφανειακές προθέσεις των δύο πλευρών - επιπτώσεις των ιστορικών γεγονότων.

Ωραία ματιά, κυλάει γρήγορα κι ευχάριστα, αλλα μέχρι εκεί θεωρώ. Περισσότερο ενδιαφέρον παρουσιάζουν οι λεπτομέρειες και οι πληροφορίες για τα πολιτικά της Γαλλίας της εποχής εκείνης.

[Maria Altiki · Rating 4 out of 5]

4,5. Άλλο ένα εξαιρετικό ματωβαμμένο βιβλίο του Μανσέτ απο τα πολιτικά νουάρ του αυτή την φορά. Πολύ δράση, πολιτική, διαφθορά, σασπένς, γρήγορες σεκανς με πιστολίδι που θα γινόταν απίστευτες κινηματογραφικές σκηνές. Κάθε φορά που διαβάζω ένα δικό του βιβλίο κ τελειώνει, θλίβομαι γιατί δεν μου μένουν πολλά ακόμα να διαβάσω. Αυτή την φορά έμεινε μόνο ένα. Παρόλα αυτά το πιο αγαπημένο μου παραμένει η Μοιραία. (Επίσης πλέον είμαι σίγουρη ότι είναι ο αγαπημένος συγγραφέας του Ταραντίνο).

[Daniel Polansky]

I read this book.A group of fabulously unlikable leftists kidnap an American ambassador in 70's Paris. The characterization is a little spotty, and this might have been a better book at half again the length (I never, ever think this) but the end is Manchette in his usual masterful form, brutal noir serving as scathing satire for every element of French civilization. Very good, if not his best.

[Gurldoggie · Rating 4 out of 5]

A lightning fast thriller set in the desperate days that followed the 1968 Paris uprising. A ragtag gang of nihilists, jaded revolutionaries, and alcoholics set out to kidnap the US Ambassador to France, and everything goes straight to hell. Though the action is dark and relentless, the characters are distinct and deftly drawn, providing a clear picture of the many political and cultural currents converging in 1970’s Paris. Killer.

[Justin Evans · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not bad, but perhaps more interesting historically than as a novel. I know literally nothing, but it seems this book moved French crime writing towards more social criticism. That's good. But I prefer my eggs without the rubber-solid yolks and black rings of over-boiling.

[Maria Thomarey · Rating 3 out of 5]

2,5 , αλλά τσιμπάει μισό λόγω συγγραφέα

[Bookfreak · Rating 4 out of 5]

Καρμανιόλα το βιβλίο και η γραφή αλλά νομίζω ότι το τι Λούκι! ήταν ελαφρώς ανώτερο.

[Peter · Rating 3 out of 5]

Solid 70s violent anti-state trash fiction (in a good way)

[pantelif · Rating 4 out of 5]

Νάδα.
Απίστευτος ρυθμός και στυλ, το βιβλίο διαβάζεται με την μία. Αντίστιξη με 17Ν, τη "Γλυκιά Συμμορία".

Όλοι οι χαρακτήρες είναι συνεπείς στο ρόλο τους: κολλημένοι ανάρχες, ιδεολόγοι αριστεροί, τσατσάδες πολυτελείας, ανεγκέφαλοι μπάτσοι, πολιτικοί της δεκάρας - γενικά δεν διασώζεται από τις επιλογές του ούτε ένας από τους χαρακτήρες από την πλήρη ηθική (τουλάχιστον!) χρεοκοπία, εκτός ίσως κατά μία έννοια από τον Τρεφαί.

Τα έλεγε ο Ηράκλειτος με το ποτάμι του: όταν το είχα διαβάσει για πρώτη φορά πριν 15+ χρόνια, η συμπάθειά μου για τα μέλη της Νάδα ήταν πολύ-πολύ μεγαλύτερη.
Αλλά τα αδιέξοδα της ένοπλης δράσης/της τρομοκρατίας, όταν είναι παντελώς αποκομμένη από τη λαϊκή υποστήριξη, δεν αφήνει στα 2022 κανένα περιθώριο για αυτούς που το γυρνάνε κατά εκεί.

Σήμερα όλα αυτά φαντάζουν εντελώς ξεπερασμένα - είναι μία άλλη εποχή, όπου οι πολλοί (όπως πάντα) είναι της απάθειας. Αλλά οι ριζοσπάστες είναι εντελώς άλλο φρούτο: Μακεδονομάχοι, αντιεμβολιαστές και δεν-ξέρω-και-εγώ-τί-άλλο αντιδραστικό.
Μήνυμα/Ιδεούλα προς Έλληνες συγγραφείς: Γράψτε ένα "Νάδα 2022GR" με μαχητές του ΦΒ που το γυρνάνε.

[Emma · Rating 5 out of 5]

A tightly paced, spare thriller written in 1972 that details the chaos and unraveling of an anarchist plot to kidnap the American ambassador. The author was a lefty and peppers the book with fond pokes at infighting. Exceedingly violent and cynical to the bone, Nada explores nihilism while ramping up the tension with every sentence.

[Nick]

“That would be torture. We don’t do torture in France. But, well, if he persists we’ll see.”

[James · Rating 5 out of 5]

If a crime novel is good it should make you consider committing crimes.

Maybe not seriously, but at least a little. I’m not sure if this has always been the case (though I imagine it is) but especially now, the consideration or at least contemplation of engaging in illegal activities as a sort of get-rich-quick scheme seems decreasingly absurd.

Consider the plot of Cormac McCarthy’s No Country For Old Men. You find a suitcase full of money and no survivors or witnesses to associate you with the cash. No one is looking for you. It’s a simple question: do you keep the money or turn it in to the police? If you keep it, you’re already committing a crime. If you turn it in, you’re a good citizen at best and an idiot at worst.

But what does it mean to be a “good citizen” in 2020? Like a “model minority” the term seems meaningless. In a world of blatant political and corporate corruption, where a college education seems almost like an insult given the debt vs. success relationship, the type of “good citizen” who would turn in a suitcase full of cash to The State seems more like a tool or puppet than an idealist. It’s like having to pay taxes to the IRS when your fridge is empty and you can’t afford to have a dentist clean your teeth: why the fuck should I opt in? Why participate?

But in a novel like Jean Patrick Manchette’s “Nada” we can go ahead and do away with all of that moral navel-gazing and fantastical circumstance. In Nada crime is political. Manchette negates the self and its temptations, tossing out individual benefit, growth, and wealth as casually as he discards the corpses that litter the novel. There is no hope of finding a suitcase full of cash and starting your life anew, a member of the upper class. “Long live death!” shouts Buenaventura, withdrawing a sawed-off from the pocket of his trench coat.

If crime novels make you consider the benefits of stealing money or robbing a bank or forging a signature, Nada makes you consider the benefits of kidnapping a politician from a whorehouse in France, all the while heavily armed and willing to die just to publish a political manifesto in local newspapers. Published in 1972, Manchette’s response to the upheavals of the late 60s that had come and gone in France asks of the left: “What have we accomplished? What has gotten better? Have we given up? If not, what next?”

What’s next for the radicals in Nada is a half-assed assemblage of ex-cons, intellectuals, revolutionary fighters, and alcoholics who ultimately decide the only response to state violence is violence against the state. It's a group comprised of the despair and disillusionment of its members, willing to engage in a violent last resort not one of them truly seems to believe will work. But who cares?
You will find no Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe in Nada. The glitz is gone, the party is over, the bells have long since tolled and the glass isn’t half full. It’s completely empty.
Desperation suffocates the characters like a live burial, hopelessness like earth and grit entering the mouth and nostrils. A sex scene vaguely ends with either impotence or premature ejaculation. Maybe we can try tomorrow, suggests the seductive woman to the embarrassed man. But Manchette has already told the reader there will be no tomorrow.

Perhaps that’s the message. What of tomorrow? Will there even be one? And if there is, what will we have accomplished in the meantime? Will our world be better or worse?