Behind the walls, he yal'usine. The deafening noise, the inferno. Fatigue. The coffee and juice disgusting. Some friends too. And occasionally the satisfaction of seeing a retreat from, even if it is a mess. There are also managers, chiefs, deputy chiefs, these assholes who pretend to bring you any attention but interested only in the fact that you produce the number of documents specified in the day. At the factory, the rewards are rare. When the bike falls bay for example. Better, if we bribe the adjuster with some sweets for him to do the repairs last, we can gain two hours. Finally, the factory, the ideal would be to leave. But how, when there is nothing in his hands, not a diploma?
A man wearing a wry look on his status as a worker. Not necessarily anger or protest, he says, simply. He reviewed a few moments forts are shaking up the humdrum as the strike or open houses. It also focuses on his life outside the factory: a woman, he probably never loved. A teacher who sexually fills. And then the image of the father, who died recently.
The text of Robert Piccamiglio speaks to me. I had the chance to spend some months at the factory to pay for my studies. I say lucky because nothing has given me more desire to succeed in the competition which today make me a servant of business that satisfies. I remember waking in the middle of the night to meet, at dawn, eyes glued, standing before a machine that not waiting for you by asking you how you go to hang on for eight hours. And these workers, or expansive taciturn, angry or a little neurasthenic, most endearing.
Far from the clichés by journalists, speeches formatted policies and trade unionists, Robert Piccamiglio, who spent more than thirty years at the factory, walks the reader through the loneliness and anguish of the worker. Proletarian literature like no more in the tradition of the great old Navel and Poulaille and head.
walls, plant Robert Alexie, Alpheus Publishing, 2010. 220 pages. 19.90 euros.
The more info: R. Piccamiglio had published a text entitled Chronicles first years of plant Editions Albin Michel in 2002. The back cover goes with any comments: The rain and cold of early morning, the heady smell of the coffee machine, a slow business day, waiting for the weekend and holidays, photos naked girls that are looking to think of something else ... The plant which Robert talks Piccamiglio is not the journalists, sociologists or bosses, or even that of "workers", as union leaders say. It is an immense space and hostile devours a third of the life of a man, a noise zone, anxiety and boredom, he'll have to fight every day, wait, perchance to dream .. . These pages loneliness, rebellion, secret love, too, evoke a world totally unknown to most of us. Because it almost never happens, because the hum of machinery and fatigue, a worker becomes writer.
