On était si pressé d'enterrer Lee Harvey Oswald qu'on avait oublié de dire aux porteurs de venir au cimetière. Si bien que ce sont les journalistes qui se sont vu confier la tâche de porter le corps. Il y a bien des histoires, Votre Honneur, il y a bien des choses que vous ignorez.
[Lee Harvey Oswald, le 24 novembre 1963. Barbara aussi, un 24 novembre, et Lautréamont clic-clic.]
Je n'ai plus le livre sous la main (ou je ne le retrouve pas) mais je me souviens d'une page extraordinaire sur ce qu'est un complot, sur sa nature même...
RépondreSupprimerOui, à la fin il me semble. Ce soir je vais retrouver ça.
RépondreSupprimerIf we are on the outside, we assume a conspiracy is the perfect working of a scheme. Silent nameless men with unadorned hearts. A conspiracy is everything that ordinary life is not. It's the inside game, cold, sure, undistracted, forever closed off to us. We are the flawed ones, the innocents, trying to make some rough sense of the daily jostle. Conspirators have a logic and a daring beyond our reach. All conspiracies are the same taut story of men who find coherence in some criminal act.
RépondreSupprimerBut maybe not. Nicholas Branch thinks he knows better. He has learned enough about the days and months preceding November 22, and enough about the twenty-second itself, to reach a determination that the conspiracy against the President was a rambling affair that succeeded in the short term due mainly to chance. Deft men and fools, ambivalence and fixed will and what the weather was like.