Chloé Delaume owes her first name to the woman who, in L’Écume des jours, dies of water lily cancer. Through this little book, she stages the relationship she has with Boris Vian. It will be a question of knowing how to address this most particular of deaths. And to pull on the thread of memories: it is in adolescence that she met Vian, through L’Écume des jours. To return to that night of reading, to what, in this text, made her aware of what the word literature meant.
Chloé Delaume was born in 1973. She has been writing in many forms and media since the late 1990s. She has written nearly thirty books as if they were experiments: novels, poetic fragments, plays, essays, self-fiction. She is fond of hybrid objects and the mixing of genres: a novel illustrated by a video game (Corpus Simsi), the hijacking of a board game (Certainement pas), fan fiction in which you are the hero (La nuit je suis Buffy Summers). But also diary of a home performance (J’habite dans la télévision), dystopia (Les sorcières de la République). If her first novel, Les mouflettes d’Atropos, was tinged with radical feminism, she later focused on the issue of sisterhood by publishing Mes bien chères sœurs and the collective work Sororité.
Winner of the Prix Décembre 2001 for Le cri du sablier, she was a resident at the Villa Médicis in 2010-2011 and won the Prix Médicis 2020 with Le cœur synthétique.
