To the Friend Who Did Not Save My Life

Reading this unfolds as if you're watching a documentary of one's mind. Already aware of the outcome, but each scene further you wait with bated breath for a different end.

I knew nothing of Guibert and his life prior to purchasing this. So the introduction and foreword (and the afterward) were paramount for me to get a solid footing on Guibert prior to starting this.

It's an autofiction account (though I believe more truth than not outside of name changes - someone can correct me on this) of Guibert writing during the time of finding out he has AIDS, and his friend Bill who works with someone currently developing an AIDS “vaccine” Melvil Mockney (a pseudonym for Jonas Salk), and how this friend ultimately let him down. While this title is apt in it's own right, his publisher agent had once remarked that the title on his manuscript was “Fuck you, Bill!” Both work as you get into this memoir.

Guibert is quite influential in France. Having published 20-ish plus novels prior to this one at the time it starts. Not to mention, a film writer and photographer, having well known actors and writers in his friend circle (yes, including Michel Foucault, I'll get to that in a moment). He was quite prolific even before his 30s, and remained so up until his death when he died at 36 (1991). I went on an absolute deep dive about him and was lucky enough to find a good portion of his film Modesty and Shame (the english title) where he documents himself in some of his last living moments. It was.... a lot. It brought up a weird memory from school where in textbooks we were shown emaciated bodies of people afflicted with the disease, and to see his round full face in photographs prior to that video of his gaunt body, and knowing he was at death's door was so horrifically sad and startling.

Reading this in 2024 also brought up a weird sensation considering just a few years ago, our whole world was finding out about COVID. Conversations and feelings Guibert writes in here about doctors not wanting to meet his eyes, or presuming it solely his fault and therefore needing to take responsibility for AIDS, the lack of information, all the MISinformation, having to navigate the health system, DRs disagreeing at any turn, the wanting to keep it a secret and to hide, the rumors of what's helpful to take, eat, or change in your habits just for it to be retracted, and the most scandalizing realization that if you're wealthy or in the right “social circles” of this world, the repercussions to a life ending disease or virus grants you a disturbing amount of privilege over the rest of the world.

While obviously vastly different, AIDS and COVID, it was just as easy to reflect on the parallels in experience of living in a time of uncertainty with an unknown contagion which added in a sense of uneasiness.

When doing my deep dive I was surprised by how much was focused on Michel Foucault in reviews and critics, who was Guiberts neighbor and them being very close friends. Foucault is documented for a decent portion in his memoir, Guibert muses and questions with anger and concern and tenderness on his friends illness and knowing that it was AIDS he was dying of and him likely to assume the same fate. But I didn't view this as Foucault only, like a biography of Foucault and his illness. I viewed it more as an encompassing part of the story over all, and what it must've been like for Guibert to reflect at that moment of his friend with him now having the same disease. I suppose Foucault was more of a selling point of the novel and reviews pushed that idea (esp considering Foucault's AIDS diagnoses was hidden to an extreme degree), but I digress. It felt if only a bit awkward that so much talked of him rather than Guibert and his work and life within this memoir.

For the book itself I don't think I've ever read such stark prose like Guibert. It was entirely engrossing, I never wanted to put it down. It's painful, and angering and Guibert is rightly self absorbed yet passionately talks on his friends and portrays them in a degree that I felt like I could reach out and touch them. There are passages that left me breathless. And some parts were so blatant and clear in sexuality and desire, it almost made me feel bashful like as if I walked in on Guibert myself. Every page with Bill was maddening, how he drags Guibert into thinking that he was going to be his hero, get access to this vaccine before his T4 cells dropped too low - Bill being the dictionary definition for empty words with no follow through.

I hope to see more people reading this in the future as many of his works are translated in English now.