Onfray had a small signing at a local bookshop here in Melbourne - small enough to talk to him, though it was all a bit awkward. He seemed a bit bemused by his surroundings, I am notoriously shy with strangers ... and in the upshot, I think we exchanged a total of four words, in French. He did, however, seem delighted to sign books for his admirers. The demeanour he projected was not at all that of some stereotypical arrogant French intellectual, but almost that of someone who felt humbled by the attention.
So I've come away with a signed copy of The Atheist Manifesto, with a dedication that I'm trying to decipher, and with the impression that Michel Onfray seems like a nice guy.
(Such impressions don't prove a lot, of course, but still ...)
I'd like to get to his larger-scale public performance tomorrow night, but it's just not going to happen, the way my week is looking.