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3.93 AVERAGE
3.93 AVERAGE
This happens to be my first read from the 'autofiction' genre, which I didn't know exists before I came across this book.
Ernaux's Simple Passion is a beautiful, raw account of a person's experiences and associations in a relationship that has a fine taint of 'forbidden fruit'.
I say raw, because there's an unnamed narrator, and a somewhat unnamed acquaintance, whose intertwined complex relation is written but you never actually find a story, albeit the consequences, and impact of the story on the narrator's mind, and their life.
You witness the entire unfolding of a passion, yet you never see the actual people involved.
Simple Passion is a small volume, and the English translation is quite easy to read. This was one of my NDWBF'23 finds from the French pavillion.
I like how the author has kept words and phrases minimalistic, and within tight bound sentences even when they deal with emotions on a deep level. The book explores persona of the narrator where they deal with multiple emotional outcomes to a single instance; all valid.
The narration is sublte but evocative, and serves its purpose.
.
Ernaux's Simple Passion is a beautiful, raw account of a person's experiences and associations in a relationship that has a fine taint of 'forbidden fruit'.
I say raw, because there's an unnamed narrator, and a somewhat unnamed acquaintance, whose intertwined complex relation is written but you never actually find a story, albeit the consequences, and impact of the story on the narrator's mind, and their life.
You witness the entire unfolding of a passion, yet you never see the actual people involved.
Simple Passion is a small volume, and the English translation is quite easy to read. This was one of my NDWBF'23 finds from the French pavillion.
I like how the author has kept words and phrases minimalistic, and within tight bound sentences even when they deal with emotions on a deep level. The book explores persona of the narrator where they deal with multiple emotional outcomes to a single instance; all valid.
The narration is sublte but evocative, and serves its purpose.
.
What distinguishes this slender text from other literary depictions of romantic & sexual passion—of which there are literally countless examples—is an implicit sense of surprise: that this is the type of experience that happens to others, or maybe only in movies & books—but not to the author. So as much as a (rather ruthless) delineation of an all-consuming, clandestine affair, it's just as much a confrontation with an unknown self that has suddenly, unexpectedly materialized. Here the self is the "other" just as much as, well, the actual other; in a way this is the story of a kind of de facto ménage à trois.
Having undergone a similar type of situation—including the emergence of a previously unknown self—for the first time recently made this a particularly searing read, occasionally discomfiting, often darkly humorous. But validating too. I personally see this in the direct lineage of the great Story of O, & thus one of the great modern installments into the canon of masochistic literature.
"Every time [the telephone] range, I was consumed with hope, which usually only lasted the time it took me slowly to pick up the receiver and say hello. When I realized it wasn't him, I felt so utterly dejected that I began to loathe the person who was on the line. As soon as I heard A's voice, my long, painful wait, invariably tinged with jealously, dissipated so quickly that I felt I had been mad and had suddenly become sane again. I was struck by the insignificance of that voice and the exaggerated importance it had taken in my life."
Having undergone a similar type of situation—including the emergence of a previously unknown self—for the first time recently made this a particularly searing read, occasionally discomfiting, often darkly humorous. But validating too. I personally see this in the direct lineage of the great Story of O, & thus one of the great modern installments into the canon of masochistic literature.
"Every time [the telephone] range, I was consumed with hope, which usually only lasted the time it took me slowly to pick up the receiver and say hello. When I realized it wasn't him, I felt so utterly dejected that I began to loathe the person who was on the line. As soon as I heard A's voice, my long, painful wait, invariably tinged with jealously, dissipated so quickly that I felt I had been mad and had suddenly become sane again. I was struck by the insignificance of that voice and the exaggerated importance it had taken in my life."
I can think of no other author who had an impact on me as Annie Ernaux. Her inquisitive writing prompts readers to reflect on their own memories. Novels like [b:Happening|129263635|Happening|Annie Ernaux|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1681327721l/129263635._SY75_.jpg|805808], [b:The Years|145625252|The Years|Annie Ernaux|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1682913153l/145625252._SY75_.jpg|3110233] and [b:A Girl's Story|53443227|A Girl's Story|Annie Ernaux|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1589885984l/53443227._SX50_.jpg|50107801] are almost ‘guidelines’ for catching the past. In Simply Passion (1991), Ernaux recounts her all-consuming love for a married foreigner, driving her to entirely neglect herself.
The short novel disappointed me, however. To say it is ‘more of the same’ would be unfair, as it was written well before, but it did give me a déjà vu. More importantly, I missed a critical note or punch line. Ernaux’s usually sharp reflections are absent; her younger – and rather passive – self is just absorbed in daydreaming. Even a final addition, written in 1991 (when Ernaux was already older), confirms her gratitude.
Really, Annie? Sitting, waiting, wishing for a man who pays more attention to his Saint Laurent suits and his car than to his maîtresse? I guess 1991 was a very long time ago.
The short novel disappointed me, however. To say it is ‘more of the same’ would be unfair, as it was written well before, but it did give me a déjà vu. More importantly, I missed a critical note or punch line. Ernaux’s usually sharp reflections are absent; her younger – and rather passive – self is just absorbed in daydreaming. Even a final addition, written in 1991 (when Ernaux was already older), confirms her gratitude.
Quand j’étais enfant, le luxe, c’était pour moi les manteaux de fourrure, les robes longues et les villas au bord de la mer. Plus tard, j’ai cru que c’était de mener une vie d’intellectuel. Il me semble maintenant que c’est aussi de pouvoir vivre une passion pour un homme ou une femme.
Really, Annie? Sitting, waiting, wishing for a man who pays more attention to his Saint Laurent suits and his car than to his maîtresse? I guess 1991 was a very long time ago.
challenging
reflective
sad
challenging
emotional
funny
hopeful
reflective
sad
reflective
slow-paced
reflective
sad
medium-paced
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
fast-paced