AustLit

'In the micro stories of Lost Words, Xavier Hennekinne’s narrator takes us on a reflective journey from his entranced yet perplexed youth in France to sleepless nights as a contemporary parent. This compelling voyage through time and mood is accompanied by images by Phil Day. Just as the prose entwines us in its subtle recurring rhythms, the prints and drawings are never literal, taking ordinary objects but revealing their sinuous shapes out of dark and suggestive structures.'

Source: Publisher's blurb.

'I voted Benoit Hamon. What can I say? I have always voted for the Parti Socialiste candidates at presidential and legislative elections, and at local elections when candidates were known to belong to the party. I’ll vote Macron in the second round.' (Introduction)

'The following year they went to Japan. In the night they landed at Kansai Airport, then took a train to Shin-Osaka. In the morning, after an early breakfast, they took the fast train to Okayama and then changed for an omnibus to Matsuyama. In Matsuyama, in front of the station, they took a taxi to the hotel where they had booked a western-style room. They thought of walking but it was raining lightly and he felt that it was not worth their while hauling their big suitcase in the rain, even though the hotel didn't seem far on the map. The hotel was not far from the station but further than they expected, and the cab fare came to almost a thousand yen. During the ride he looked at the map of the city and recognised which avenue they were turning into and the park where the Ehime Museum of Art was hidden. He pointed out to his wife the upper roof of the castle, Matsuyama-Jo, barely visible in the trees and mist on top of the hill, behind the park. They turned off into another avenue - where the hotel was, he told his wife - and left the park and castle behind them...' (Publication abstract)

'The bust of Voltaire greets me when I open the shutters and look down on the little square. To his right, the bakery where I buy my breakfast; to his left, the bistro where I sometimes drink or have my dinner; and, adjacent to the bistro, the bookshop where I have been buying books every day since I arrived in Ferney. What a wonderful bookshop! Yesterday I bought the complete works of Nicolas Bouvier and Lorsque l'enfarit parait by Francoise Dolto.'  (Publication abstract)

'I would not call Pasay a slum. Calling or not calling Pasay City a slum would assume the ability to make a clear distinction between an overcrowded neighbourood and a crowded one, between unacceptable housing and acceptable housing. I cannot make that distinction but I would not call Pasay a slum: it is not on top of Garbage Mountain. I would describe Pasay as a poor and bustling municipality of Manila, one with problems.' (Publication abstract)