“You are Jean-Louis Lebris de Kérouac, you said and they said on the phone?”
And there I am being handed a cognac by Monsieur Lebris as he painstakingly raises himself from his heap of delicious pillows (O Proust!) and says to me liltingly:
“You are Jean-Louis Lebris de Kérouac, you said and they said on the phone?”
“Sans doute, Monsieur.” I show him my passport which says: “John Louis Kerouac” because you cant go around America and join the Merchant Marine and be called “Jean.”
