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3.88 AVERAGE
3.88 AVERAGE
informative
reflective
slow-paced
There’s nothing more powerful to me—nothing more deserving of five stars—than a book that plays with the conventions of structure and language. Sagan Paris 1954 is a brilliant semi-biography, indebted to the innovations of autotheory, in which Anne Berest narrates not only the life of Françoise Sagan but also her own writing process, the making of the book, and her divorce. The postmodern reflexivity of her form mirrors the existentialist themes in Sagan’s life, while imagined responses to current events—both in 1954 and today—deepen the context. Writing is a cosmology: a product of its circumstances and a response to them, yet also a way of writing destiny into existence—proof of “how good it is to turn a lie into the truth.”
Rather than aligning herself with a mythic figure or treating publication as an ineffable power divorced from craft, Berest writes with striking humility, laying bare the labor of creation and the nature of research itself. It becomes a one-sided confessional between two writers across time. The result recalls Nathalie Léger’s “Suite for Barbara Loden,” Jennifer Croft’s transliterative wordplay, and—though less academic—a kindred register to Rachel Cusk’s views of gender in writing spaces. Like these works, it blurs memoir and criticism into a singular, self-aware text. This genre-defying, unabashedly sexy novella lets the seed of specificity grow under a caring hand into a topiary of singular design in the City of Light—pure art in both conception and execution.
Rather than aligning herself with a mythic figure or treating publication as an ineffable power divorced from craft, Berest writes with striking humility, laying bare the labor of creation and the nature of research itself. It becomes a one-sided confessional between two writers across time. The result recalls Nathalie Léger’s “Suite for Barbara Loden,” Jennifer Croft’s transliterative wordplay, and—though less academic—a kindred register to Rachel Cusk’s views of gender in writing spaces. Like these works, it blurs memoir and criticism into a singular, self-aware text. This genre-defying, unabashedly sexy novella lets the seed of specificity grow under a caring hand into a topiary of singular design in the City of Light—pure art in both conception and execution.
hopeful
informative
relaxing
medium-paced
I have just devoured this book. It has flaws, the main one being that the author insists on drawing parallels between herself and Sagan, which means that the book becomes as much about her as it is about Sagan. However, I still thought it was a great read. I was fascinated by all the details of life in Paris in 1954. Can it be that in my lifetime there were still knife grinders on the street? I loved Sagan's attitude towards life, lving it to the full, in anticipation of the feminism still to come.
Maybe this is a book for older readers. I am not sure. But for me it was a relief to read something so well written and endlessly fascinating.
Maybe this is a book for older readers. I am not sure. But for me it was a relief to read something so well written and endlessly fascinating.
2.5
Beyond knowing her name, I knew almost nothing about Francoise Sagan before starting this book. I still don’t feel I know much. The book had its impetus in the stated title; but it’s not really about Sagan in Paris in 1954, though those elements run through it.
A given nowadays about creative nonfiction is that you may write of things not strictly true if they are in the spirit of truth, but you need to be clear about what you’re doing. From the beginning Berest is crystal-clear she’s “appropriating [Sagan] for myself, just as a portrait painter imposes his own profile on the portrait of the sitter.” (I had issues with several of Berest’s metaphors.) As to including herself in the story, Berest says if this wasn’t wanted, she shouldn’t have been asked. (Here, she sounds defiant; later, her tone will be more apologetic.)
Sometimes her prose seemed simplistic (translation choices?) and sometimes repetitive for such a short book. Berest describes how her own life has gotten in the way of the assignment she accepted at the behest of Sagan’s son—he wants his mother not to be forgotten sixty years after the publication of her first book. Due to Berest’s life struggles (she’s going through a divorce), she’ll say that instead of writing one thing about Sagan (for example, her love life), she’ll write about another: insight into an author’s (capricious) choices.
Berest says Sagan inhabited her and credits that for the growth she achieves by the time she finishes writing the book. Two (superfluous) letters Berest wrote to two men--the first (rather condescending) on how she’s different from when she was in her 20s and the other on why she’s written the book the way she has--appear at the end. The second letter contains too much explanation of what her book is, something she’s already made clear, and that should’ve been left to the reader’s intelligence anyway.
Perhaps this book is more for those that already love Sagan, as I’m not left with a desire to read her. And I know her son didn’t want that.
Beyond knowing her name, I knew almost nothing about Francoise Sagan before starting this book. I still don’t feel I know much. The book had its impetus in the stated title; but it’s not really about Sagan in Paris in 1954, though those elements run through it.
A given nowadays about creative nonfiction is that you may write of things not strictly true if they are in the spirit of truth, but you need to be clear about what you’re doing. From the beginning Berest is crystal-clear she’s “appropriating [Sagan] for myself, just as a portrait painter imposes his own profile on the portrait of the sitter.” (I had issues with several of Berest’s metaphors.) As to including herself in the story, Berest says if this wasn’t wanted, she shouldn’t have been asked. (Here, she sounds defiant; later, her tone will be more apologetic.)
Sometimes her prose seemed simplistic (translation choices?) and sometimes repetitive for such a short book. Berest describes how her own life has gotten in the way of the assignment she accepted at the behest of Sagan’s son—he wants his mother not to be forgotten sixty years after the publication of her first book. Due to Berest’s life struggles (she’s going through a divorce), she’ll say that instead of writing one thing about Sagan (for example, her love life), she’ll write about another: insight into an author’s (capricious) choices.
Berest says Sagan inhabited her and credits that for the growth she achieves by the time she finishes writing the book. Two (superfluous) letters Berest wrote to two men--the first (rather condescending) on how she’s different from when she was in her 20s and the other on why she’s written the book the way she has--appear at the end. The second letter contains too much explanation of what her book is, something she’s already made clear, and that should’ve been left to the reader’s intelligence anyway.
Perhaps this book is more for those that already love Sagan, as I’m not left with a desire to read her. And I know her son didn’t want that.
informative
lighthearted
reflective
slow-paced
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
fast-paced
The last days before the unknown girl Françoise Quoirez turns into one of the most sought-after writer of her time, idol of her fellows and icon of her time. The year 1954 marked the turning point, when she offered her manuscript of “Bonjour tristesse” to three publishing houses and to her family’s astonishment was immediately accepted. A star in literature was born, in those days which also marked the beginning of Brigitte Bardot’s career as an actress and Paris was the centre of the global intellectual and cultural life. Françoise, now named Sagan, was suddenly catapulted into the middle of it.
Already for I long time I have admired Françoise Sagan’s writing, not just the best known “Bonjour tristesse”, but also “Aimez-vous Brahms” left me thinking for weeks after reading it. Anne Berest’s way of approaching the phenomenon is quite unique: she is not providing another biography with an accurate account of what happened exactly in this year. She uses print materials as well as interviews and memories of companions to create a partly invented and partly accurate description of the last days of Françoise Quoirez and the first days of Françoise Sagan. This is mixed with her own thoughts in the process of writing and the problems in the writing process itself. The result is an interesting book which is always entertaining to read and makes you feel like part of the process of approaching the phenomenon Françoise Sagan.
Apart from the protagonist, you also get a deep insight in the French culture and society of the 1950s, it is often just side remarks that reveal a lot about the time.
Already for I long time I have admired Françoise Sagan’s writing, not just the best known “Bonjour tristesse”, but also “Aimez-vous Brahms” left me thinking for weeks after reading it. Anne Berest’s way of approaching the phenomenon is quite unique: she is not providing another biography with an accurate account of what happened exactly in this year. She uses print materials as well as interviews and memories of companions to create a partly invented and partly accurate description of the last days of Françoise Quoirez and the first days of Françoise Sagan. This is mixed with her own thoughts in the process of writing and the problems in the writing process itself. The result is an interesting book which is always entertaining to read and makes you feel like part of the process of approaching the phenomenon Françoise Sagan.
Apart from the protagonist, you also get a deep insight in the French culture and society of the 1950s, it is often just side remarks that reveal a lot about the time.
Anne Berest encapsulated everything that is great about Sagan and filters it in amongst a beautifully told memoir of the year that alternated her life and birthed to the world the author we live and admire so dearly.
Anne mixes recollection with her present day situations to create a charming and insightful read and I loved every page of it.
Anne mixes recollection with her present day situations to create a charming and insightful read and I loved every page of it.
An odd biography in that it tells us much about the author, too. But I enjoyed it.