By Marc Levy
Like so many across the world, I can’t stop thinking of those who have lost their lives this sad November—in an airplane flying over Egypt, in Lebanon, in Paris. I think of them, of their loved ones, of the families that have been shattered by such barbarity.
Our tears are mixed with feelings of terror and anger, with a profound sadness, and then, silence.
Is there such a thing as an appropriate response to hatred on this scale? I humbly admit that I do not know of one.
Other than showing them, loud and clear, that in France, our beautiful country, we have chosen to be free and to love. And that nothing can dissuade us from this choice.
Do they think they have scared us? And what if we talk about their fears…
They’re afraid of the past, of the present and
the future.
They’re afraid of joy and laughter, of literature, music, art and culture in all its forms.
They’re afraid of desire, pleasure, the beauty and diversity of the world.
They’re afraid of women and children. They’re afraid of their brothers.
They are afraid of being free.
But most of all, they’re afraid of us.
Because where they uphold ignorance, we
educate; where they destroy, we build; where
they spill blood, we heal.
Because we reinvent ourselves ceaselessly—
ever more numerous, ever more united.
Because we are free and capable of love,
boundless love.
And they are powerless to accomplish any of this—which terrifies them.
After working for the Red Cross for six years and managing an architecture firm, Marc Levy wrote his first novel, If Only It Were True, which was first published in 2000. The novel became an immediate international bestseller. It was made into the film Just Like Heaven produced by Dreamworks in 2005. Since then, Marc Levy has written 16 novels. His work has been translated into 49 languages and has sold over 35 million copies worldwide.
