Jean-Jacques Repasfroid: Father, Husband, Great-Uncle (Part 2)
By Jeanne-Jacqueline Repasfroid.
The patronym ‘Repasfroid’, meaning ‘cold meal’ in French, entered my family’s genealogy four generations ago, when Aloysius Riposte-Fwah, an English aristocrat who had arrived in Luxembourg for a peasant hunt, married my great-great-grandmother, Albert Albertibôt. Aloysius’s gout, endemic to his class, reached such a level of chronicity while he was wooing my great-great-grandmother that he was unable to eat anything other than bread soaked in sweetened water. The local community, amused by this alimentary restriction, reconfigured his surname as ‘Repas-froid’, and the epithet gained sufficient purchase so as to confuse the clergyman who married them.
My father would often masticate upon this nomenclative curio:
‘No proper noun is safe from the corruption of the somatic. The history of philosophy, which would seek to distinguish the mind and its naming properties as itself distinguished, must recognize this. In the case of my own proper name, what is testified to is precisely that name’s impropriety, and a fortiori the permeability and permutability of any nominal gesture. The sovereign genealogy of the title always has a decrowning double chiefly comprising deposits of sodium urate.’
Some thought this inappropriate subject-matter for an address commemorating the Normandy Landings, but my father was always interested in pointing to the residues of salt – on the beach, on the name, in the collective cellar of occidental consciousness – whose desiccation he viewed as attendant on the desecration of philosophy. While Derrida was announcing that we should account for the histories of coffee and tobacco in our literature, Repasfroid claimed instead that we ought to reckon with salt: the reste, or remainder par excellence of what has been called ‘Western civilization’.
His monograph on the subject, to which he gave the English title Salterity, sadly remained unfinished at the time of his death.