It's really strange that he would live for over 60 years in a hotel!
"In 1945, an Egyptian writer came to Paris, to the land whose language he could read and write. The writer was Albert Cossery, and he had one thing on his mind: seducing pretty young women. He moved into an apartment building in Montparnasse, but soon tired of the constant to-ing and fro-ing between his lodgings and the hotel room in Saint-Germain where he took his conquests and eventually moved into the Louisiane in 1951. He would only write when he had absolutely nothing better to do. As far as he was concerned, the pleasures of living were far more important than writing, which wasn't a source of pleasure. He had no possessions and spent his time idling: "You have to earn idleness…If other people like working, then let them get on with it", he said somewhat cynically and philosophically. "But by idleness I don't mean just doing nothing, but thinking and reading. Reading is the most extraordinary thing in the world." Fastidious, elegant and suspicious of reason, Cossery has lived at the La Louisiane in the same manner for the past forty years. He has only changed rooms once and his present room remains Spartan in the extreme. All he has are a few books (the best and his own publications) and some clothes (the cupboards and suitcases are full), but nothing else, not even the sculpture of a woman Giacometti gave him. He has gone from being a maverick in Cairo to a maverick in Paris. The characters in his novels, the Men God Forgot, the Proud Beggars, The Lazy Ones, are anti-heroes, devoid of any ambition. They have all the time in the world, the eternity of each moment that goes by. They are in no hurry. Free of ambition, their lives are simple, clear. Left my the wayside? Forgotten by God? They find the answer in the nobility of distress, and seek refuge in drugs and idleness, Oriental-style, knowing that misery is eternal and that any attempt to fight it is futile. The only way out is by acknowledging and accepting what is irremediable. Those who read books accept this and use idleness as their defence. Life in a hotel is ideal for those seeking freedom and idleness. Cossery rises late, goes for a walk, stops at the Café de Flore, picks up a girl and gives her his spare clothes and books. Elegance is of crucial importance. As he puts it, "Morality is aesthetic". He chose the Louisiane because models and actresses stayed there. His two-year attempt at communal living was a disastrous experiment he will never repeat. He will remain free, without any baggage, and his only possession is the manuscript he's working on. If he died, he would stop writing. "Why all these questions? " "Because I'm writing a book on literary hotels." "I'm the only person who lives in an hotel! You'll never find enough material to write a book! Even Matzneff, who lives in the room across the hall, has a pied-à-terre somewhere else and only uses the hotel for pleasure. Yes, I'm the only writer who lives in a hotel! Who else is there?!"
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