I can't claim to have understood everything in this book. Julia Kristeva—born in Bulgaria, adopted into France, psychoanalyst and semiotician—reminds me of those professors everyone meets at least once. You curse them at first, bless them in the end, and never quite forget them. The intellectual complexity she brings to her correspondence with Jean Vanier can be daunting at first. But gradually you find yourself drawn into the fascinating world of a woman educated by nuns in Bulgaria, forced to flee her country, mother to David, a son with psychiatric disabilities, an unbeliever who for decades has challenged France and the world to do better by people with handicaps.
Yes, this book demands serious intellectual engagement and some background knowledge. But you don't need to grasp every nuance of Kristeva's thought. Readers take from her philosophical richness what they can. And then there is Jean, whom we all love dearly. After this book, even more so. Because here we see the full measure of a man's humility and wisdom—a man who refuses to hide from "the cry of a woman and a mother." He could have done it. He could have climbed onto a pedestal after a lifetime among the wounded, after a faith tested a thousand times. But that never occurs to him. Jean uses just enough irony, when needed, to soften the sharp edges of his dear correspondent's intellectual rigor. More than once he embraces her with tender words when he recognizes the suffering mother beneath the thinker. And he holds his own in their theoretical exchange.
Reading this book—which I recommend to anyone with responsibility in disability organizations—brings to mind a saying of Jesus: "I praise you, Father, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned of this world." One wonders whether these truths of God's kingdom remain hidden from Kristeva, for all her brilliance. Jean tells us they do not. Rather, they remain hidden only from the wise and learned "of this world"—those who, unlike Kristeva, have not renounced the logic of domination and prejudice.
Vito Giannulo, 2012