Timothy Zurabishvili dives into the darkness of man

In his first novel, Plomb, Timothée Zurabishvili delivers a bold and provocative narrative that plunges readers into the depths of a troubled, corrupted, and violent consciousness. The story follows a young man whose impulsive sexual encounter with a woman results in an unwanted pregnancy and the birth of a child, leading to an existential and moral dilemma for both parties.

Zurabishvili's writing style is characterized by long, flowing, tense sentences, creating a sense of psychological suffocation for the reader and the two main characters, who are trapped in tight spaces both physically and mentally. Time itself becomes distorted in the narrative, with moments stretching across dozens of pages and a single glance or gesture taking on an entire narrative space, emphasizing the pervasiveness of violence in consciousness.

A key aspect of the novel is its critique of toxic masculinity, as the young woman is stripped of her agency through Zurabishvili's use of instrumental and dehumanizing language, reducing her to a "function," a "machine," or a "consumable body." This language serves as a tool of cruelty, enabling the collapse of humanity, as women and children are devalued and erased.

The novel's title, Plomb, refers to both the French words "heavy metal" and "lead," symbolizing the dense substance that drags a person down, affecting bodies, consciousness, relationships, and language. The violence portrayed in the story is deeply rooted in political and social dimensions, with the young man's military service serving as a shaping institution that instills a worldview of separating emotions from actions, abolishing individuality, and turning people into goals, objects, or problems to be eliminated.

The author refrains from presenting a traditional villain or explaining the cruelty through individual evil, instead focusing on the environment that nurtures and legitimizes these actions. This approach exposes the systems that produce, legitimize, and ultimately permit such violence, making the novel a scathing critique of societal structures.

One particularly chilling scene in the novel depicts the murder becoming a cold, technical process, managed by bureaucratic logic, sharing responsibility, and culminating in a confidentiality agreement for the crime. This transforms the act of violence from an emotional outburst to a calculated, rational decision, further emphasizing its institutionalized nature.

Despite the brutality of the text, Zurabishvili grounds the violence in ordinary details, such as a puzzle on a bed, melting ice cream, a bus stop, and a cheap room where a baby is held. This grounding in mundane surroundings heightens the shock and gravity of the novel's themes, demonstrating that violence can emerge from the most seemingly ordinary circumstances.