Yesterday I received your letter of 7 August and I am enchanted by all the good news.
I suppose that you have now received my previous letter (brief) that I sent you -- a dozen days ago[1] -- about receiving the book. The statement from the publisher and the letter that you quoted to me appear to have the right tone.
I hope that the weekly will publish extracts as soon as possible. For the French edition, I do not envision a "preface" (in which it would be necessary to say too many things, and thus would advance more than is fitting towards a certain side of the explication), but an anonymous notice -- from the publisher -- on the book's back cover. This would present the thing as a mystery, which is causing a scandal in its country of origin, and let it be understood that this mystery must be still more profound because the book's intention is not obvious and its meaning is less univocal than such extremism might suggest. For this notice I will need two press clippings, extracts from big newspapers -- and, if possible, they should be completely indignant and stupefied.
I believe that the Doge[2] still has the coquetry to let a few understand, in his denials, that he could be the author after all. This will not be useless in the current phase, so as to slightly delay the moment of completely demystified reading, which risks coming too soon than too slowly.
Your house[3] seems to me to gather together all of the charms, with no exception, that one could expect. When the vines are fertile, we can drink a bischero sciolto[4] a wine whose authenticity we will be able to fully guarantee and that will not degrade due to transport.
Make a precise plan of the house so that we can speak of the work to be done on it.
The most recent news from Lisbon is so obscure and so off the subject (and especially with respect to all of my questions[5]) that I am worn out from responding. The crisis appears to be at a decisive turning point and the talent of our poor friends completely insufficient to play a notable role in it. I am completely sure that we will soon know (but perhaps after the defeat) a number of Portuguese who at this moment are acting according to our perspectives. But the Afonso-Rayo band[6] has clearly devoted all of its scarce energies over the last six months to drawing a screen between these other people and me. In the name of "historical owners" of established relations with me, they fear to see me meet these people, who could critique their extended insufficiency and contemporaneamente[7] they have the intention to show me off to certain chosen people. From whence comes a multitude of pressing invitations to bring me to Lisbon in April [1975], whereas it was in October 1974 that they should have summoned me. Thus, I have responded that I am not Ratgeb,[8] who would satisfy himself with a moment of inactive tourism in the atmosphere of the intellectual cafes in a country in the midst of a revolution, and also to assume and thus cover a part of this shameful inactivity. As you have recently said, and with great justness, "there are not three great men in France," and I have made it known that one of them will only displace himself, at this stage, if he is summoned by an autonomous assembly of workers! You can sense how displeasing this response was.
Remind Niccolo[9] that Glaucos[10] expects him on the 29th of this month.
Best wishes,[1] Translator's note: see letter dated 6 August 1975.
[2] Translator's note: Aliberto Mignoli, Sanguinetti's attorney.
[3] In the mountains of Chianti.
[4] With a lack of reflection and casualness.
[5] Translator's note: see letter dated 24 February 1975.
[6] Afonso Monteiro-Eduardo Rothe.
[7] At the same time.
[8] Translator's note: pseudonym adopted by Raoul Vaneigem.
[9] Translator's note: Gianfranco Sanguinetti.
[10] Translator's note: Guy Debord.
(Published in Guy Debord Correspondance, Vol 5: Janvier 1973-Decembre 1978 by Librairie Artheme Fayard, 2005. Translated from the French by NOT BORED! April 2007. Footnotes by Alice Debord, except where noted.)