AnnieErnaux

My journey with Ernaux continues. In this little memoir, Ernaux tracks her mother’s life from birth to death, and the impact it has on her. A sort of accompaniment to the previously published I Remain in Darkness, Ernaux further mines her experience of her mother’s death and broader impact on her life. Several years ago, my mother had some sort of medical scare. The words “congestive heart failure” were mentioned. It is one of the few times I’ve burst into tears at work, having to move myself into an empty examination room to let it pass. It was probably the first time I contemplated that my mother could die. I have suppressed these thoughts now for years. Ernaux describes here that she keeps expecting her mother to turn a corner, to appear as though still alive, and feels her absence acutely in what she no longer has to do. I was forced to imagine my Sundays without calling my mom at 11am, which has been a constant habit now for a long time. Sometimes these calls are a mere hour if one of us is depressed (usually, me). Sometimes the calls are snippy, fighty. Sometimes they are sad. Sometimes I am drunk on wine and horribly depressed, unable to hear any reassurance or hope. Sometimes my mom is reliving childhood trauma in a way that I wish I could not hear, but in which I know she has no outlet for otherwise. We complain about work, we talk about what we’ve watched or read that week. We talk about the difficult years of my childhood, when all of us were so stressed as to be barely functional. Sometimes I feel as though I don’t have the energy to have these calls on particular Sundays. But I can’t imagine them ending. ...

Another short Ernaux text from Fitzcarlando (forever grateful to have been introduced to this press, these books are beautiful). This book is longer than I Will Write, but is in a way shallower. It is a collection of entries into a diary observing behavior of other people in public, writing down little episodes and encounters, sometimes reflecting on them. I love this. Some of them are funny, sad, moving. Most of them are mundane, and yet not boring or in need of editing out. They’re mundane because life is often mundane. ...

This short text from Ernaux is a collection of her Nobel lecture, banquet speech, and then a short biography. At 43 pages it is so short that I read it in about 20 minutes (the type is quite large), and would strongly recommend it. She writes about the alienation from your home and people that happens when you move out of your homeland, your homeclass. Language changes, and yet it can snap you back. She discusses her writing style, how she developed it and the decisions made therein, particularly in her use of the of “I.” ...

What an incredible piece of writing. In 61 pages, Ernaux illustrates how all-encompassing love can become, how it can turn into an obsession where everything is subject to it. No event is without link to the object of love, everything takes on a mystical connection. At first I was tagging or highlighting things that I related to, had experienced in my affections. That became a real burden because it happens on almost every page. ...

A few months ago for my small press book club we read The Years, also by Ernaux. I enjoyed it, and felt a strong pull to read it in the original French. Yet, what puts Ernaux on my radar isn’t necessarily that, it was that someone in that book club spoke so passionately about Ernaux (they were wearing a shirt that said “Annie Ernaux” on it, also). I can’t remember what they said, but I remember the affection and admiration for the author’s works. So, when I was on Fitzcarlando’s website looking for an excuse to buy a pretty book, Ernaux was a perfect choice. Especially since the title is a thing I am fascinated by and feel often. ...