A MULTIFACETED man, Boris Vian was a jazz musician, novelist, poet, playwright, singer and actor.

DAY after tomorrow France will be remembering one of the most eccentric figures in its intellectual history on his 56th death anniversary. But how does one describe Boris Vian? Was he a novelist and a poet or was he also a jazz musician and a singer? Was he an actor and a playwright or also a James Bond character who loved and owned a collection of rare and expensive sports cars?

Though Vian’s portraitures are many and seemingly interminable, his fans and critics agreed on one point: he was the man who lived at 200 kilometres an hour!

Born in a well-to-do family that resided in Ville d’Avray, a classy town near Paris, Vian studied mathematics and metallurgy but never had time to launch himself into a scientific career. He had lots of other things to do.

His writing style was so unusual, often carrying purely invented words and expressions, that publishers rejected his manuscripts one after the other. Many of the six novels that he wrote under his own name were published posthumously. Some, like Froth on the Daydream were also translated into English.

He had better luck when he decided to have a new name, Vernon Sullivan. The four novels that came out under this pseudonym met with success and were translated into other languages. Notable among them, to quote their English titles, are Autumn in Peking and the highly provocative I Shall Spit on Your Graves.

His works also include four short story collections, another four poetry books and seven plays.

You must be wondering whether Vian stayed up late at nights to do all his writing. But the truth is that during night-time he was often seen in jazz clubs playing the trumpet. Yes, he was crazy about jazz and had close contacts with celebrated musicians like Hoagy Carmichael, Miles Davis and Duke Ellington. He played an important role in organising their concerts in Paris and also found time to write articles in a number of jazz magazines.

He probably hadn’t wished it to be so, but Vian was the cause of one of the bitterest controversies in the French literary history when in 1954, sitting alone one late night in a Latin Quarter bar, he scribbled down a poem called ‘Le Déserteur’ (The Deserter).

France was still involved in the Vietnam war and the Algerian war was about to begin, but nobody at the time dared challenge the law of conscription. The poem, a letter addressed to the French President, is a refusal to go to kill people one does not even know.

‘The Deserter’ became so polemical that all the well-known singers of the day refused to perform it and Vian made a recording in his own voice. Surprised and encouraged by its phenomenal success, he worked on an entire album, Chansons, Possibles & Impossibles (Possible & Impossible Songs) that is today considered a masterpiece of French singing.

Despite his triumphs Vian could never become rich, and all the money he earned through his diversified talents was spent on parties that he frequently threw for friends and, yes, on fast cars.

He had no patience for taking rest and people today still wonder how he found time and energy to do all that he did. His book I Shall Spit on Your Graves was finally adapted for a film. The maiden screening was set for June 23, 1959 in a cinema near the Champs Elysées and he was the special guest.

The movie had hardly begun when Vian got up shouting excitedly: “This is certainly not my story! I never wrote it this way! I withdraw my name and you can all go to hell…”

Angry and exhausted, he collapsed into his seat and died. He was 39 years old.

—The writer is a journalist based in Paris.

ZafMasud@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, June 21st, 2015

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