At the age of 16, I was introduced to the magic of philosophy, and this passion remains mine even now that I teach literature. But I never stopped reading poetry, in particular Arthur Rimbaud who would be the subject of my masters in 1975, just after I travelled up to Sumatra where I nearly died from malaria. In the spirit of May 68 (to which I remained always faithful), I stubbornly refused to teach for the Education Nationale. I first thought of a career in cinema, then I met with a young and very dramatic woman, an opera singer, but then things went all wrong and anyway I always knew I had no skills to be a star movie. So, back to school! In 6 months I wrote a 360 pages dissertation on the American composer John Cage (which was published 3 years later as Les Intermittences de la raison: penser Cage, entendre Heidegger, Klincsieck, 1982). I had in mind some post-doctorate position in the States, but then I got married and I had to find a job. Obviously my life was over. Luckily (and this is perhaps the only thing I believe in, luck), I was offered the ideal deal: reader and then later editor for the Editions Gallimard in Paris. At least I didn't have to waste my time in an office, and after all the best way to learn how to write is by reading writings that should never have existed in the first place! But after ten years I felt that this was indeed too small a world, too self-centered and arrogant. I looked for fresh air. In 1989 I was offered a visiting position at the University of Washington, Seattle – which was indeed a refreshing experience. After having “visited” other places, some of them colder (Montréal), some milder (Irvine), or even hot (Baton Rouge), I was glad to settle at Vanderbilt in 1996.
