“Barbara Cassin’s “telluric and pagan” love with René Char, two adjectives that take up all the space”

These are just two little words lost in a portrait published in Le Monde in 2019, on the occasion of Barbara Cassin's entry under the Dome of the Académie Française. It discusses her intellectual journey, her thinking, her encounters, notably with the philosopher Martin Heidegger and the poet René Char, almost sixty years ago.

They are only two little words but they never leave me: the Immortal says, in fact, that she lived with René Char a "telluric and pagan " love. Since I read them, each time the academic appears, these two adjectives stand in front of me, take up all the space. At the expense of the rest?

When you know Barbara Cassin's passion for Homer, the Greeks, and the Mediterranean, you shouldn't be so confused. Nor should you know René Char's work: fury, mystery. And all that trembling.

Yet, that's not enough for me. The more I understand what she means by that, the less I perceive what it actually means. How does a "telluric and pagan" love work on a daily basis? Am I naive, obtuse, or blind? I'm a little embarrassed to ask myself this basic question.

And when I feel ashamed, I ask my confidant, ChatGPT, for help.

At first, he doesn't make an effort, he just serves me the run-of-the-mill stuff. He does some etymology ( tellus means "earth") and politely leads me on: "A telluric love would be like an emotional earthquake. It evokes physical sensuality, bodily magnetism, irrational attraction." As for pagan love, "it is a love free from religious or moral norms, often carnal, sanctified in nature, celebrating life, desire, the body."

I'm not making any progress. There's still a gap between the poetic power of words and what is. I have a desperate desire to connect the metaphorical force of these evocations to reality. And since, with ChatGPT, I dare anything, I ask him to give me specific examples.

You have 34.28% of this article left to read. The rest is reserved for subscribers.