Showing posts with label books about France. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books about France. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 15, 2020

Summer of France: Bonjour Tristesse



From the opening pages of this slim novel, the voice of its young narrator takes center stage. It’s an assured voice, with poetic strains—observant, pensive, strangely aloof. When the book was published in 1954, the author, Françoise Sagan, was only eighteen, particularly poised to write from the perspective of her 17-year-old protagonist, Cécile. The setting: the French Riviera, where Cécile and her playboy father are vacationing with his mistress du jour, Elsa. Cécile has been in her father’s full-time care for two years, after leaving convent school; they live a life of parties and indulgences. Her mother died when she was quite young. Of her father, she says:

“He was a frivolous man, clever at business, always curious, quickly bored, and very attractive to women. It was easy for me to love him, for he was kind, generous, gay and fond of me. I cannot imagine a better or a more amusing companion.”

As for Elsa, she’s agreeable as well, and the three are enjoying a harmonious vacation until Cécile’s father receives notice that another guest will be arriving—Anne Larson, an old friend of her mother’s and a serious, practical woman who has taken Cécile under her wing at times. Cécile points out to her father the disharmony this arrangement would possibly create:

“She’s too intelligent and has too much self-respect. And what about Elsa? Have you thought of her? Can you imagine what Elsa and Anne can talk about? I can’t!”…
He laughed softly and rubbed the back of my neck. I turned to look at him. His dark eyes gleamed; funny little wrinkles marked their edges; his mouth was turned up slightly. He looked like a faun. I laughed with him as I always did when he created complications for himself.”

Cécile begins to fear that Anne will wreck the carefree lifestyle she’s been living with her father and begins to plot against the older woman. This is the setup for the novel—a beautiful, Mediterranean setting, a triangle (or quadrangle) of sorts emerging. I don’t want to say too much more about the plot because if you are looking for a quick, summer read that will distract you from the real world and transport you despite a lack of actual, physical travel, this is your book. Oh, I almost forgot. Cécile has a love interest as well:

“On the sixth day I saw Cyril for the first time. He was hugging the coast in a small sailboat and capsized in front of our cove. I had a wonderful time helping him to rescue his things, during which he told me his name, that he was studying law, and was spending his vacation with his mother in a neighboring villa. He had a typically Latin face—very dark and very frank.”

And to give you more ideas about 17-year-old Cécile:

“Usually I avoided college students, whom I considered brutal, wrapped up in themselves, particularly in their youth, in which they found material for drama, or an excuse for their own boredom. I did not care for young people; I much preferred my father’s friends, men of forty, who spoke to me courteously and tenderly—treated me with the gentleness of a father—or a lover.”

Because, you see, Françoise Sagan caused quite a scandal with the publication of this book, which quickly became a bestseller. Cécile runs with adults and begins an affair with Cyril. And despite her detached voice and steady gaze (and Anne’s determined interference), we begin to see the chinks in Cécile’s armour. This is no old-fashioned novel of manners; matters of sexuality and love are addressed frankly and often, strangely dispassionately, through Cécile's lens. She's a character I won’t forget for a long time.

I finished the novel in two sittings and immediately watched the film version, which came out in 1958 and starred the perfectly cast Jean Seberg as Cécile and Deborah Kerr looking as beautiful as she ever was as Anne. David Niven is Cécile's dandy father. You know, the film was okay, but it took the subtleties of the novel and made them painfully overt, through voice-overs, dialogue and song. There was lots of singing and music, in fact. It worked well from time to time, but it didn’t really feel like the vibe of the novel, at least to me. I think in hindsight, I would have rather given myself more time to digest and enjoy the book before watching this adaptation. I recommend Bonjour Tristesse, the novel, very highly. It was an entertaining, surprising and nuanced read, a breathe of fresh air in my summer reading.

Wednesday, June 10, 2020

Summer Reading Project, 2020

(photo credit: quarantine paint-by-number, Satchel White, Mary White)

Let’s face it. We’ve all been locked down and dreaming of travel. Or is it just me? I keep asking people where they would go if they could go anywhere, and I get all sorts of answers from the mundane—the nail salon!—to the exotic—Mozambique! Okay, no one actually said Mozambique, but I would like to go there.

Faithful followers of this blog know I like to choose a summer reading project based on some theme. Last year, I read books that had something to say about trees; in 2018, I read only books by Michael Chabon. I often use this time to pick up a big book I haven’t had the gumption to attempt during the other months of the year.

And so, this year’s summer reading project was sparked when a friend loaned me a big book written by an author we both like; certainly a sense of wanderlust only served to cement the direction of my reading aims. Without further ado, this year’s summer reading project will include books on the theme of…FRANCE. Books set in France, inspired by France, or simply books by a French author.


That big, loaned book is Hilary Mantel’s A Place of Greater Safety. At 748 pages, it is my greatest challenge and the novel I'll start with. A work of historical fiction originally published in 1992, it involves the events of the French Revolution, as told through the lives of three provincials: Georges Danton, Camille Desmoulins, and Maximilien Robespierre. According to The Seattle Times, a work of “brilliant, edgy historical fiction that captures the whiplash flux of the French Revolution.” Can’t wait. 

Sidenote: Some other summer, I read Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies, the first two novels in Mantel’s trilogy about Thomas Cromwell. With the third, The Mirror & The Light, recently released, this would be a stellar summer project, if you’re looking for one yourself.

Anticipating that I may need breaks now and then from Mantel’s vigorous prose, I chose this lovely Everyman’s Library series from Knopf: Poems from Paris. I will probably read this alongside the historical novel, to accentuate the French mood and setting.

Next is a classic in French literature, published originally in 1954 but still widely read today. Bonjour Tristesse (translation: Hello Sadness) was an overnight sensation written by an 18-year-old author, Francoise Sagan. It’s the story of a precocious teenager who spends her summer in a villa on the French Riviera. Talk about feeding the wanderlust. This novel is a coming-of-age story often categorized as young adult for modern audiences.

Lastly, I chose the psychological thriller, Based on A True Story by Delphine De Vigan. Published in 2017, this international hit sold tons of copies, won awards, and is based on a true story “about a friendship gone terrifyingly toxic and the nature of reality.” This is actually a fairly lengthy read at 384 pages and will round out my summer of French-themed reading.

Total pages: 1,511. Probably overzealous, but I'll give it my best shot. Drop me a note if you'd like to read along at any point. I'll post periodic updates here on my progress.

 

À vaillant coeur rien d’impossible. -Jacques CÅ“ur



"As soon as we express something, we devalue it strangely. We believe ourselves to have dived down into the depths of the abyss, and when we once again reach the surface, the drops of water on our pale fingertips no longer resemble the ocean from which they came...Nevertheless, the treasure shimmers in the darkness unchanged." ---Franz Kafka