Thea Petrou reads from Abel Quentin's THE SEER OF ETAMPES (seeking a publisher)

hello I'm Thea Petru today I'm reading from my sample translation of Abel Quentin's novel The Seer of Eton the book is Seeking a publisher and it has been awarded a grant by the Aberdeen translation fund the novel charts the downfall of an anti-hero Jean roskoff divorced and recently retired academic is succumbing increasingly to his alcohol habit to give his life Direction he embarks on a biography of his Idol the little known black American poet and Jasmine Robert Willow and we follow them both into the political literary scene of 1950s Sanja mande pre however roskov soon finds himself accused of neocolonialism and cultural appropriation becoming the target of escalating online abuse and violence caught between left-wing Council culture and his own stubborn beliefs the protagonist accelerates on his downward spiral to a thrilling twist at the end of the book I'm reading from the point uh where Jean has gone to stay with his best friend Mark on the coast I made 4 million euros this year said Mark we were walking along with some beach on the opal Coast Mark had invited me to spend the first week of September at his house ideally situated on the beach front his wife who didn't like me much had decided to stay in Paris we were walking slowly Against the Wind we almost had to shout to be heard four million euros those words came as a blow and the worst thing is the person who dealt that blow my friend Mark co-founder of the firm W had done it almost sorrowfully without any pleasure he had only mentioned it because it was vital to the subject of our conversation the development strategy of his Law Firm he wasn't showing off and had even attempted various contortions to answer my question have you had a good year mark without resorting to the vulgarity of a cryptic answer but he could clearly see that if he hid this truth behind the modest fail of a vague response I can't complain he would not be understood nobody would be able to assess the scale of his appalling success in doing this Mark was not seeking admiration but rather to present the advantages of the market economy in concrete and eloquent terms hoping perhaps that others might be inspired to follow his example because despite all his faults Mark was rather a good friend good at sharing the sort of guy who would have preferred it if all his friends could be rich too hearing him talk about his success I was thinking to myself that my relationship with Agnes had been a big mistake from the outset she should have been with Mark they would have made excellent partners Agnes was dominant reptilian uninclined to fits of anger pragmatic consistent and not in the slightest bit a Daydreamer there was no way she hadn't seen what I as a young activist could already see in Mark Country Homes a coupe maybe even an English made why had she chosen me I had a lot of potential no doubt from an intellectual point of view but I also had a reputation of chronic instability and already serious drink problems above all I was an Arrogant Bastard who liked the sound of his own voice Mark was a safer investment looking down on the world with the authority of his six feet he was there the evening I met Agnes when her blue green eyes and Volcanic breasts had struck me with all the force of a double uppercut to the chin had he chatted her up my memories were hazy but I had been convinced of it in the last years we were together at the very end it had even become an obsession I fell back on the charge with destructive tenacity every time we argued a hurled treacherous remarks at her at every reproach for Magnus I would storm off hissing that she would have done better to choose him and there was no use her telling me otherwise I knew that she secretly regretted it and then I would lose it behave like a N/A I accused her of sleeping with him after all they were the same breed in other words all this was a convenient way of sidestepping her legitimate questions and avoiding having to explain myself why I was laying in until one in the afternoon whenever I didn't have a lesson why the apartment stunk of style tobacco why I slagged off her friends from Bain and Company on the pretext that they had a shoddy grasp of grammar the wire was incapable of surprising her other than by putting my students papers away with all the ski equipment why I never made an effort Mark's world was one of wide Avenues fossilized with boredom red carpet parades three wheeled scooters letters on thick headed paper wooden paneling and design piece Furniture private couriers mauve socks shoes with buckles initials embroidered onto Charvet shirts expense accounts single figure around distance in Paris tyrannical clients stiletto heels and money he only ever left it for rare excursions into the world of public affairs middle of the range sofas Flags bottles of crystalline average suit Renault valsatis and Bic pens or that of the Law Courts crabby Court clocks fitted carpets false ceilings jean-darm wearing earpieces glass booths swipe cards numbered desks and hushed conversations we had become friends in the signal regiment at montelimar during our military service Mark was thrashing everyone in spitting contests me I was just trying not to accidentally shoot myself with my rifle I gave a whistle four million that's a lot of cash Mark that would probably cover the running of the history department at Paris 8 for the next 10 years now the Mist had lifted the Dover Cliffs were visible in the distance some way off from the shore a ferry was heading towards the English Coast I had finished the first hundred pages I felt that I had something presentable or at least something good enough to show someone I had arrived a few days before Mark he had lent me the keys anxious that I have a change of air anxious probably to get me away from Balto and its Temptations he had joined me on the Saturday at around noon euphoric with a bucket full of live lobsters thank you