With The Cookies of the Apocalypse, author Annie Du experiments with a unique form, straddling essay and autofiction, which proves to be a clever vehicle for transporting the reader into her psyche.
Story of a writer “attacked by an editor, then by bedbugs”, this 166-page tirade invites us to inquire about the repercussions of
“Sometimes I’m great for a dunce. » This simple sentence well represents the self-deprecating spirit of the book, a form of intimate investigation into the annihilation of the writer, which she resists by bringing together in a work all kinds of disparate traces.
A quilt of erratic emails, spontaneous cell phone notes – “this is perhaps the first book written on a cell phone” – and what appear to be diary entries, this vivid work benefits from tasty humor by Annie Du, who practices what we will call here combat irony. Full of clever references, such as the assimilation of his attacker to the Prétextat Tach by Amélie Nothomb in Hygiène de l’assassin, Les cookies de l’apocalypse is an unclassifiable book which leaves an impression and which makes no apologies for be believed. And that’s very good.
