Love Me Tender

by Constance Debré, Χαρά Σκιαδέλλη (translator)

Ένα μυθιστόρημα για τη μητρική αγάπη και τη λεσβιακή ταυτότητα και για το πώς οι κοινωνικές συμβάσεις θέτουν αυτά τα δύο σε αντιπαράθεση.

Το ζήτημα του άλλου και της αγάπης σε όλες της τις μορφές: από τη μητρική αγάπη έως τον έρωτα στις διάφορες και ποικίλες εκδοχές του. Η ελευθερία μας προϋποθέτει και απαιτεί ενδεχομένως να θυσιάζουμε και να αφήνουμε πίσω μας πρόσωπα και καταστάσεις που αγαπάμε, και να αποδεχόμαστε τις προσωπικές μας ήττες, ώστε, ίσως, να καταφέρουμε να αποτρέψουμε τη θλίψη;

Genres: Queer, Fiction, LGBT, France, Feminism, Contemporary, Lesbian

168 pages, Paperback

First published January 8, 2020

About the author

Constance Debré is the daughter of journalist François Debré (1942-2020) and former model Maylis Ybarnégaray (1942-1988), granddaughter of Michel Debré (1912-1996), former Prime Minister of General de Gaulle, and of Jean Ybarnégaray (1883-1956), minister of the Vichy regime and resistance fighter. She is also the niece of the statesman Jean-Louis Debré.

She was 16 when her mother died. She studied at Lycée Henri-IV, then law at Panthéon-Assas University. She is a graduate of class 99 (E99) of the ESSEC Business School. Married in 1993, she had a son in 2008. A lawyer by profession in 2010, she accompanied her father in 2011, charged in the case of fictitious jobs at the town hall of Paris. Recognized for her eloquence, she was elected second secretary of the Conference of Lawyers of the Paris Bar in 2013.

In 2015, she finally left her husband and her job to live with a woman and pursue a full-time career as a writer.

Reviews

[Juliette · Rating 1 out of 5]

Bien ecrit, comme Play Boy. Mais comme Play Boy, il y a quelque chose qui pique et hérisse dans sa manière de parler de ses conquêtes. Redéfinir ou abolir le féminin, renier la femme pour la lesbienne, volontier! Mais Constance Debré rentre dans le jeux du virilisme, de compter les femmes, de les comparer, de les réduire à des caracteristiques, de les vider de leur humanité, comme des objets. Ça me tend.
Abolir la femme et la mère pour se la jouer don juan je-m'en-foutiste-va-voir-ailleurs-si-j'y-suis, ça boussille le projet. Les lesbiennes ne sont pas des femmes dit Wittig mais ce ne sont pas des mecs non plus; rentrer dans leur jeux de mascu c'est devenir un de nos ennemis politiques.
Ceci dit, son rapport à la famille me parle plus dans ce livre-ci que ce qu'elle en dit dans son premier.

De plus, on se passerait volontiers des mots racistes essentialisants comme de ses rêves d'acèse par sa critique du confort bourgeois. Une personne sur goodreads dit que la bourgeoisie se respire dans les écrits de Debré, qu'elle se la joue prolétaire, transfuge de classe inversé, tout en ne challengeant rien et en se complaisant dans cette position priviligiée quand même, c'est tellement vrai. Paraître déconnectée du monde et jouer le rôle de mère ratée qu'on lui donne c'est le but de ce livre mais on sent quand même une part de fausseté assez désagréable et irritante.

[Alwynne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Constance Debré’s austere, sinewy prose is completely compelling. Her novel’s based on events in her own life but painstakingly, subtly altered to allow her to explore issues and themes beyond her own realities. It opens in 2015, the narrator is in the process of leaving her husband Laurent who is, in turn, holding their eight-year-old son Paul to ransom. A child whose existence will soon be weaponised against the narrator tying her to Laurent – and his thinly-concealed rage - and preventing her from entirely separating from their past. The catalyst for the end of their marriage is the narrator’s declaration that she’s a lesbian. But Debré’s made it clear this isn’t intended to be read as a coming-out story, nor one that solely hinges on queer identity. Instead, Debré envisaged it as a variation on classic narratives like The Odyssey, the experiences of a woman enduring a series of trials while attempting to chart new territory. Part of this journey involves a wholesale rejection of bourgeois society. The narrator abandons her upmarket apartment filled with supposedly-desirable objects and quits her job as a lawyer. Reinvention for the narrator is as much about evading the lure of consumerism and capitalism, repudiating French social norms and the desires they engender, as it is about the freedom to explore her emotional and sexual desires. And it seems that this is something that her former friends and colleagues find particularly hard to fathom, especially from someone whose family has been dubbed the ‘French Kennedys.’

The narrator’s ongoing transformation echoes the old slogan ‘the personal is political’ it’s as much a political act as it is anything else. Its force is demonstrated by the extreme reactions to the changes the narrator makes to her body, to her self-presentation, to her overall circumstances. She moves into a small, bare space, she strives to embody something other than the outwardly conventional woman she once was. But there are barriers to freedom chiefly the narrator’s relationship with her son, which is fractured partly through Laurent’s machinations and partly as a result of an outrageous example of institutional homophobia and misogyny on behalf of the judge presiding over their initial custody dispute – despite France’s increasingly “liberal” laws including the legalisation of gay marriage. There’s also the bizarre stigma attached to her renunciation of the material, for many the narrator’s decision to walk away from wealth and root out all her former markers of social status can only be understood as a manifestation of insanity. It seems the narrator is, at least in part, being punished for broader transgressions against mainstream French culture and society: for her utter disinterest in assimilation or in mimicking heteronormative lifestyles; for jettisoning the outward trappings of traditional femininity; her embrace of queerness in its most radical sense. Similarly judgemental attitudes and normative expectations are detectable in some mainstream reviews of Debré’s novel - in which she’s been accused of being ‘narcissistic’ and too ‘male’ in her attitude towards her various lovers. But these were some of the aspects of the character’s depiction that resonated with me, the narrator’s ongoing questioning of the expectations and judgements attached to gender from what it is to be a “mother,” to how relationships between women should play out. There’s a rawness about this that I really liked. But at the same time, it’s often understated, there are no obvious answers, no easy resolutions. Instead the emphasis is on being and becoming.

[lee · Rating 2 out of 5]

anxious selfish sexy books written by utterly insufferable white people are a vital part of the literary ecosystem.. but that doesn't mean i have to enjoy them !!

[El Librero de Valentina · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5
Prosa minimalista y sólida sobre la maternidad y la homosexualidad. Tiene un error garrafal que no sé si deba a la traducción o desde la escritura que se refiere a México y su cultura.

[Sweet Jane · Rating 4 out of 5]

Θα κυκλοφορήσει σύντομα από τις εκδόσεις Πόλις, οπότε αξίζει να γράψω δυο λόγια για να ξέρετε τι θα διαβάσετε.

Η Constance Debré υπήρξε προνομιούχα όλη της τη ζωή μέχρι που αποφάσισε η ίδια να μην είναι. Άφησε την καλόβολη δουλειά της, το άνετο σπίτι της, τον άνδρα με τον οποίο ήταν μαζί είκοσι χρόνια και μετακόμισε σε ένα στούντιο, κούρεψε γουλί τα μαλλιά της και άρχισε να βγαίνει με γυναίκες. Μόνη της άγκυρα, ο γιος της και η πρόθεση του πρώην της να τους αποξενωσει.
Μετά το coming out της έχασε το δικαίωμα να βλέπει το παιδί της και έπρεπε να αποδείξει ότι δεν είναι ελέφαντας σε ένα δικαστικό σύστημα ρινοκερων.

Αυτό που στην αρχή φαντάζει μια μάλλον καθυστερημένη μεσήλικη εφηβική κρίση είναι μια εν θερμώ επανάσταση προς ότι αντιπροσώπευε η πρώιμη εν τάξει ζωή της. Επαναστατησε κόντρα στο κοστούμι της τέλειας γυναίκας που οι κοινωνικές επιταγές της φόρεσαν. Κάτι τέτοιο δεν θα μπορούσε να περάσει τόσο αναίμακτα σε ένα συντηρητικό αστικό περιβάλλον, ακόμα και αν αυτό έχει παριζιάνικο αέρα.

Αν και εντυπωσιακά ευκολοδιαβαστο, το Love me Tender δεν είναι αυτό που θα χαρακτήριζε κανείς ευχάριστο ανάγνωσμα. Πέρα από το αγωνιώδες της δικαστικής εξέλιξης, η Debré απογυμνώνεται εντελώς σε προσωπικό και ερωτικό επίπεδο. Σε αφήνει να την κοιτάξεις όπως ακριβώς είναι ξέροντας ότι αυτό που θα δεις δεν εχει καμία σχέση με τις μέχρι τώρα εικόνες της λεσβιακης προβολής.

Πολυ διαφορετικό από ότι ίσως είχα εξ αρχής στο μυαλό μου. Άβολο, σαγηνευτικό, ειλικρινές. Πολύ μου άρεσε. Ανυπομονώ για τα επόμενα.

[Toni · Rating 4 out of 5]

No great life is complete without a trial, you have to ruffle a few feathers, you can’t just be a good little child all your life.

This book will undoubtedly not resonate with all. Debré blows up her very neat life as a married, mother of one, high-powered lawyer, from a storied family…etc. in order to recognize her lesbianism and desire to be a writer. The no-sentimentality approach to what she’s done hit the spot for me, at the moment. There are some bitter truths she tells about marriage and motherhood behind the veil of good domesticity and “good life”.

[Jessica]

When I was most active on this site, around the time Barack Obama was first elected president, my mother would express concern that I shared way too much personal information in my book reports. She wondered whether I stopped to think that the words I typed became public, and that anyone could read them, and what the consequences of this might be. Did I stop to think? I may have, but also I just didn't care. At the time, I was deeply addicted to compulsively writing whatever the hell I felt like in copious online book reports, and cared little about any potential consequences (which were fewer, and far less clear, in that simpler time).

And when I recently relapsed, all these years later, and dashed off a pathetic sort of anguished middle-aged-suburban-lady-cri-de-couer review of a book she'd recommended, my mom registered a similar concern.

Now obviously the world has changed, and sharing all the most private intimate details of one's life and thoughts with strangers on the internet is no longer controversial or even worthy of note. However, I also have changed, and upon reflection, the wisdom of my years as a responsibly married bourgeois mother tells me that it would be ill-advised to share my honest personal response to Constance Debré's novel Love Me Tender in this public forum.

[María León · Rating 2 out of 5]

la problemática de fondo (que tu exmarido te haga la vida imposible y te impida ver a tu hijo porque eres lesbiana) me parece un temazo digno de exponer y comentar. el problema es que no he empatizado nada con la narradora porque 1. está todo el tiempo recordándote que es una niña rica a la que le gusta jugar a los nómadas y 2. tiene comentarios hacia las mujeres muuuuy cancelables (no porque ahora te acuestes con mujeres tienes que tratarlas como un onvre promedio)

[Paula Mota]

At five foot nine, standing there in my leather jacket, with my tattoos, my snobby accent, nose in the air, icy tone, I’m like a cross between the Baron de Charlus and Sid Vicious.

Perante uma pessoa tão revoltada e amarga, é inevitável perguntar: “Quem te magoou?” No caso de Constance Debré, a resposta está nos seus livros: o pai, a mãe, o marido, o filho (ainda que claramente instrumentalizado pelo pai) e isso faz com que seja difícil julgá-la.

Love is terrifying. All types of love, even love for a child, maybe that’s even the most terrifying of all.

Depois de um casamento de duas décadas, Constance separou-se do marido, com quem tinha a guarda partilhada de Paul, de oito anos, mantendo uma relação cordial com Laurent, até que se assumiu como lésbica e lhe pediu o divórcio. De um momento para o outro, Paul deixou de querer estar com a mãe, o caso acabou por ir para tribunal, já que Laurent a acusou de abusos sexuais e, enquanto não houvesse um relatório de um psiquiatra e uma decisão judicial, Constance só poderia encontrar-se com o filho durante uma hora numa associação, quando houvesse vaga, na presença de terceiros que avaliariam a sua interação.

”Having homosexual relations cannot be considered a sign of mental instability in this day and age. Neither can writing books.” The expert psychiatrist’s report came through. (…) The doctor deemed it to be necessary for an expert, a psychiatrist, to clarify this point, just in case there was any doubt in anyone’s mind, Laurent’s, the judges’, five years after gay marriage was legalized.

Escrita dois anos antes de “Name”, esta obra fornece o contexto que me faltava para compreender a relação com Paul que, entretanto, cresceu e se distanciou, alterando a natureza dos laços entre mãe e filho.

In reality, a judge is telling a little boy, my son, who will one day be a man, that his mother is guilty, just because his almighty father decided she was. Telling him that she really isn’t a mother because she isn’t really a woman because she doesn’t really love men.

Nada no estilo de vida de Debré é casual, tudo é deliberado e intenso, parecendo um porco-espinho que nunca baixa a guarda na sua interação com os outros e, a nível amoroso, é penoso assistir aos seus engates e à objectificação das suas parceiras.

But I've been a victim of marketing. The girls I meet want an apartment, a dog, kids, they're in for a disappointment when they meet me. Son of a Bitch, it's written across my stomach, you find out as soon as you sleep with me, those are the terms of sale, honey. I've already done the whole mom and dad thing. Mom and mom is just as much of a drag. (…) As for being in a couple, I'm still in the ICU. Sometimes I can't take any more of these girls. Wanting to hold hands, talking about their jobs, asking if we can go away for a weekend, a little holiday, to a nice restaurant. So what do you propose? They ask me. Nothing. Sometimes I hate them. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother sleeping with them. Half the time I'm not even that into them. A fuck is a fuck.

Mais focado na perda da guarda do filho e na listagem das suas conquistas amorosas, “Love Me Tender” não tem a mesma pujança que o seu sucessor, ainda que me impressione mais o que Debré sofreu como mãe do que como filha.

I realized I’d finish grieving for my son. I said to myself, That’s it now, the grieving’s over. (…) We don’t know what to say each other anymore. We’re becoming strangers. Things are deteriorating. They’re bound to. The memories of my life with him are fading.

[Lune · Rating 3 out of 5]

c'est bien écrit, rien à dire de ce côté là, c'est plutôt avec le fond que j'ai grincé des dents. déjà les bourgeois croisés nobles, très peu pour moi, les phrases type "c'est genderfluid la noblesse de maman et la bourgeoisie de papa", désolée mais ça me donne envie de crier. j'ai beaucoup de mal avec les descriptions de sa vie d'ascèse, où elle se félicite quasiment de vivre une vie précaire, parce que ça la distingue de son milieu d'origine, parce qu'elle se trouve moins superficielle que ces copains d'écoles privées. avec son éthos de bourgeoise qui se croit trop bien pour les jobs alimentaire là bref j'étais saoulée.
et puis la manière dont elle parle de ces conquêtes... si c'était un homme cis qui avait écrit ça, croyez moi que j'aurais brûlé le bouquin.

bref, ce livre n'est pas aussi transgressif qu'il aimerait le faire croire. j'ai cependant bien aimé l'histoire avec son fils et sa bataille judiciaire.

[Rachel · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

if there's one thing french writers can do better than anyone, it's autofiction. having enjoyed nina bouraoui's all men want to know, i went into love me tender with similar expectations. drawing on her own experience as a mother and queer woman, constance debre presents us with a fictionalised story of control, sexuality and the struggle for liberation and identity.

our narrator has it all - a successful, well-paid job as a lawyer, a comfortable marriage with her long-term partner and a budding, if not somewhat distant relationship with her son. but after coming to terms with her sexuality as a lesbian, the foundations of her life begin to dismantle. she leaves her husband, quits her job and sets out to carve a new space for herself in a pivotal chapter of her life. thus ensues a long-fought battle for parental rights with her ex-husband, and as our narrator becomes embroiled in a tense, heart-breaking struggle for her son's love, she starts to question if her newly found sense of self is worth the anguish.

debre's short, snappy style of writing contrasts her deeper discussions on identity, the self and female sexuality. i enjoyed the matter-of-fact tone that carries throughout the book, and her willingness to share so much of her personal life in a frank and honest manner. at times, her passivity was frustrating, but much of this was due to the frankly appalling treatment she experiences at the hands of the french authority. sexuality and queerness are still considered taboo subjects, and the conservative ideology debre is subjected to, leads to some of the more emotional and infuriating parts of the book. her relationship with her son is joyful and their moments of tenderness add light to what is otherwise a very sad narrative. as the conclusion of love me tender drew closer, i felt almost let down by the eventual, almost inevitable ending. debre's exasperation is explicitly seen, as she withdraws into her new identity.

with much of autofiction, it is difficult to distinguish and separate fact from fiction. i applaud debre for her willingness to display one of the most vulnerable parts of her life, subsequently amplifying the voices of queer women who have been persecuted and disenfranchised across the globe. her distinct voice and tone make for a fast, quick read, however it didn't leave me feeling compelled to read more from her and her commentary and critique could have been carried much further.

thank you to serpent's tail for my review copy!

[Jean Ra · Rating 4 out of 5]

La primera vez que topé con este libro la verdad es que pasé de largo. Anglicismos? No, gracias. Been feed up for a while. Dejé la copia en el lugar dónde la había encontrado.

Ahora no recuerdo cuál fue el turning point pero acabá haciéndome con una copia y, aprovechando su brevedad y que me apetecía algo más visceral y sentido, entonces lo ataqué. Porque Love me tender a pesar de su aparente frialdad, de la sequedad de su prosa, narra una historia dolorosa y de los efectos que causaron en su narradora/autora. Se trata por un lado de la historia de una mujer que explora con profusión su homosexualidad y por otro cómo este descubrimiento, junto con su vocación por la escritura, despiertan el desazón de su ex-marido Laurent, quien decide vengarse de ella a través del hijo de 8 años de ambos, fruto de su unión, que duró 20 años.

Aprovechándose que a nivel de mentalidad los jueces por Francia andan todavía en el mesozoico, tras lanzarle una serie de infundios en un tribunal, el ex marido de Constance logra que ella pase más de un año y medio sin ver a su hijo Paul tras el fallo del juez. Deja de verlo entonces cuando él tiene 8 años y no lo ve hasta que ya ha cumplido 10 años, en condiciones poco agradables, en encuentros en lugares neutrales bajo el arbitraje de una asociación. Todo ello afecta emocionalmente a la narradora, que ya de por sí parece que carga un pasado familiar dónde las emociones no suelen expresarse de forma efusiva y se impone más bien un clima riguroso, por la familia Debré es de origen noble, Constance es una pija, una posh, una fresita. También es verdad que, según se da a entender, sus padres tuvieron problemas grandes con las drogas, de hecho la madre de Constance murió de sobredosis siendo una niña y el padre ha sobrevivido sin que los médicos se expliquen el cómo. Sumando pues ese pasado a ese presente tumultuoso generan ese tono descarnado y de profundo descontento, una tristeza que no se despliega de forma explícita pero que se puede leer a través de la lógica en las acciones y la prosa, buscadamente seca, compuesta de muchas frases cortas y gran cantidad de vocabulario coloquial, rehúye de la elevación y el vuelo lírico.

Banda sonora

Así pues, mientras leía este libro me acordaba mucho del tema Where I Saw Naked Numb Years de Aria Rostami, un tema de ambient que juega mucho con las repeticiones de unos pocos sonidos y que genera una atmósfera ligera y a la vez tenuemente melacólica que encaja con Love me tender tanto en el tono como en la mecánica estética. Debré reinicide mucho en describir sus numerosos y profusos encuentros con su variado elenco de amantes (la mayoría rollos de una noche) y por otro sus continuas visitas a piscinas para practicar natación y desfogar la rabia y la tensión que le produce la situación con su hijo Paul y la carga de su pasado, todo ello mientras vaporosamente progresa ese conflicto judicial por la custodia y el acceso a su hijo Paul. Pocas veces se transmite la depresión que estos problemas le causan, las rutinas diarias de la narradora dan a entender tanto su búsqueda de libertad como su continua necesidad de buscar una válvula de escape.

Sin duda tiene mérito que se pueda armar una narración sin una trama clara, con una escritura fragmentaria, y que recurra a todas esas reiteraciones sin tampoco provocar tedio, midiendo muy bien los tenues avances que se van produciendo, aunque hay muchos cambios de amantes y domicilios, el libro es una continua procesión de nombres de sitios y de personas a las que se les menciona pero no se les otorga nombre, como mucho una inicial, de forma que, a su vez, también supone una visión tanto del París contemporáneo, en sus ambientes y lugares, lo que también añade otro aliciente a la narración. La principal pega que yo le he encontrado es que para hacerte con la voz narradora debes superar su notoria arrogancia y su altivez, que en muchas fases hace dudar respecto a su amor por su hijo Paul y en otras compruebas que también daña a esas mujeres con las que se lía y que, en ocasiones, desean formalizar su relación pero reciben a cambio una huida o un disgusto. Pero te vas dando cuenta que precisamente esa falta de tacto sin duda se debe a que su historia con Paul la ha secado emocionalmente y no se puede entregar a sentimientos amorosos. No es hasta que retoma el contacto con Paul y parece que la historia de la custodia mejora que la narradora logra abrirse un poco más.

También me gustó esa vida nómada e itinerante que establece la narradora. Dedica su tiempo a la natación, a sus aventuras con mujeres y a la escritura, siempre en domicilios muy modestos porque Constance abandonó la abogacía para centrarse en la escritura y ya no tiene apenas dinero. Pero se instala en estudios de alquiler, en cuartos prestados o sofás de amigos, estableciéndose una vida casi monacal, centrándose en la escritura y restando los lujos y comodidades. Aunque esto es relativo, pues no faltan las visitas a cafés de París y restaurantes, pero esto sin duda juega en favor con el tono general de la obra y ofrece un acercamiento muy detallado a una forma poco usual de habitar el mundo, de buscar la libertad y definir la identidad como persona, como madre y como mujer. Eso, por supuesto, aunque ya en el trasfondo, también expone la cultura acartonada y caduca que bulle en las cabezas de los estamentos superiores del funcionarado francés.

Para mi sorpresa le pondré cuatro estrellas porque su honestidad, su aspereza, su cuidado estilo, descuidado en apariencia, que elude en la medida de lo posible lo sentimental, me han ido atrapando cada vez más hasta que, esta vez sí, me he descubierto buscando todos los espacios temporales posibles para continuar leyendo, lo cual a mí me prueba hasta qué punto ha captado mi interés y me ha impulsado a bucear en esas esferas del mundo, que considero bastante alejada a la mía, haciéndose comprensible y tangible a pesar de las escasas pinceladas que va trazando. Eso sí, quien busque una visión más burguesa y rosa de las lesbianas lo mejor que puede hacer es pasar de este libro confesional.

[Grace · Rating 3 out of 5]

So many of the literary lezzies like this so I wanna honor queen Maggie Nelson’s opinion AND I found it really hard to relate to this narrator/author. Is it possible to like a book if you don’t like the main character? Look- when I read something about lesbians I want to be like “YES my people” and this person is kinda a misogynistic selfish baby gay who is pretty transactional with the women she dates, aloof, and isolated from community. Doesn’t sound like many dykes I know??? I’ll say 3.5 because I did like the way it made me feel dramatic and pensive while reading, which resulted in some nice personal journal entries for me and also cuz I just do like French stuff.

[Pernilla (ett_eget_rum) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mycket bra om kvinnors eviga kamp att vara sig själva.

[Jack Skelley · Rating 5 out of 5]

She achieves a profound state of IDGAF. Post-divorce, amid the custody loss of her teen son, not only does she erase career & family, but her girlfriend romances are detached hookups. In the glam heart Paris she is a hermit. And yet -- even as she longs for her son -- her life is full.
Ever tempted to dump everything and just do art? You’ll get a good jolt from Love Me Tender by Constance Debré. Fast too. Oddly, the power of this novel (or is it a memoir?) is its blasé tone. Emotion invisible. Is it a female version of The Works of Guillaume Dustan? That blunt autobio, also full of sex, is also on Semiotext(e).

[Nin · Rating 2 out of 5]

Usually autofiction scratches my itch but some later-life queerness pieces can feel like reading a juvenile rehashing of adolescence. Like yah you fuck girls, we get it, do you gotta be so misogynistic about it though??? The epoch of queer experience isn't acting like the worst man you know. Some redeeming features are the astute observations on the role of motherhood in society, the shitty family justice system and some great little quotable lines - "No great life is complete without a trial, you have to ruffle a few feathers, you can’t just be a good little child all your life".

Edit: didn’t like it any more the second time

[Leslie · Rating 4 out of 5]

When Constance Debré quit her job as a lawyer, left her husband, came out as queer, disconnected herself from the elite bourgeois world she had been born into, and devoted herself to writing, at first things seemed to go okay. She and her husband continued for nearly two years to cooperate on the care of their young son, alternating weeks with him. But when she rejected what appeared to be overtures to return to her husband and instead began divorce proceedings, he seems to have lost his damned mind--he cut off all access to their son, accusing her of perversion and abuse, all seemingly part of a campaign to punish her, heedless of the damage he was doing to their son (aged 8 at the time) or to the relationship the child had with his mother. She continued to live her life as she needed to--reading, writing, having sex with a series of "girls," while stripping herself of material possessions, even her few books (which her husband selectively quoted from as part of his campaign to show her moral perversity)--while she kept up the fight to regain access to her son. She's remarkably restrained in her account of her ex-husband's behaviour, mostly letting his actions speak for themselves and concentrating on her responses to things. Even as the courts set requirements for access, he endlessly stonewalled, cancelling plans at the last minute, claiming illness, pressuring their young son to agree with his own assessments of Debré as a mother. The authorities let him get away with all of this for years, partly because they disapproved of Debré's life choices that violated norms of bourgeois respectability but mostly, it seems, through sheer inertia and sclerotic slowness. The court-appointed psychologist who is supposed to assess her fitness agrees completely that the whole thing is absurd, that queerness does not make her or anyone unfit, and that she poses no danger whatsoever to her son, but he takes nine months to submit his report saying all this, and the services tasked with supervising visits between mother and son are so overwhelmed by clients that months and months go by with no contact whatsoever. And meanwhile her son gets older and the ties of relationship between him and his mother fray. And she keeps writing her books and living in a kind of personal limbo, waiting for things to resolve and wavering between determination to keep fighting and a self-protecting disconnection. I found this short book compelling. Her tone is cool and detached, and I think some readers will take exception to it, wanting her to perform a particular kind of conventional maternal anguish for them. The tone reflects who she is, but it also reflects her desire to protect herself, to survive this long process, not to let it destroy her or the life she is attempting to make for herself, not to let the forces of French respectability win.

[Max · Rating 3 out of 5]

Die ersten beiden Sätze wecken Erwartungen, die nicht erfüllt werden. Statt der Klärung der Frage, ob Eltern ihre Kinder bewusst fallen lassen und entlieben können, wird in drastischem Ton der Verzicht auf jede Konvention geschildert, es werden zahllose Bettgeschichten und selbstgewählte wirtschaftliche Armut in starker Raffung abgerissen.
Die anfängliche Frage wird nicht mehr aufgegriffen.
Dennoch lesenswert, da ein nicht neuer, aber radikaler Blickwinkel auf Selbstverwirklichung und Sorgerechtsstreit entsteht.

[Madame Desmeules · Rating 4 out of 5]

Curieux comme les commentaires négatifs se plaignent que Debré ne s'ennuie pas assez de son fils ou qu'elle n'entretient pas de bons liens avec les femmes. Ces critiques seraient-elles les mêmes si l'auteure était un homme? C'est encore si choquant de lire une femme qui vit ça?

Autrement, j'ai beaucoup aimé le rythme et les questions soulevées. D'intéressantes discussions à prévoir autour de ce livre.

[M. · Rating 3 out of 5]

J'aurai aimé t'aimer Constance mais ton manque de chaleur et ton indifférence à faire souffrir les femmes que tu utilises pour le sexe puis jette sans un regard en arrière, sans compter ta complaisance pour justifier ton comportement = turn off.

Quelques beaux passages.

[Tasos · Rating 4 out of 5]

Plutôt crever. Σε ελεύθερη μετάφραση, «Πάνω απ’ το πτώμα μου». Το τατουάζ στο λαιμό της κοντοκουρεμένης γυναίκας που κοσμεί το εξώφυλλο του Love Me Tender της Κονστάνς Ντεμπρέ σε προϊδεάζει ότι πρόκειται να διαβάσεις ένα πολεμικό βιβλίο. Τελειώνοντάς το, εσύ και οι καθιερωμένες αντιλήψεις περί μητρότητας μόλις έχετε φάει ένα δυνατό χαστούκι.

Η γυναίκα στο εξώφυλλο είναι η ίδια η συγγραφέας. Γόνος οικογένειας της ανώτερης αστικής τάξης, εγγονή του πρωθυπουργού του Σαρλ Ντε Γκολ. Κάποτε επιτυχημένη ποινικολόγος. Σύζυγος και μητέρα ενός παιδιού. Μέχρι που στα 40 αποφάσισε να τινάξει από πάνω της όλες αυτές τις ταυτότητες. Εκτός από εκείνη της μητέρας. Αλλά αυτή προσπάθησαν να την ξεριζώσουν με βία από πάνω της ο πρώην άντρας της, ο πρώην κοινωνικός της κύκλος, η δικαιοσύνη, η ίδια η κοινωνία. Το Love Me Tender είναι προϊόν πολέμου. Μιας γυναίκας εναντίον όλων. Και δεν ενδιαφέρεται να σε πάρει στο πλευρό της. Αυτό είναι δική σου επιλογή.

Στο είδος της αυτομυθοπλασίας, που έχει γίνει πλέον το εθνικό λογοτεχνικό σπορ των Γάλλων, η Ντεμπρέ είναι μια πολύτιμη προσθήκη. Η γραφή της είναι ωμή, κυνική, στεγνή, απελπισμένη, με την ορμή ενός ανθρώπου που αποφάσισε να απεγκλωβιστεί από τις προσδοκίες των γύρω του και τόλμησε να ζει όπως θέλει, σύμφωνα με τη σεξουαλικότητά του. Ακόμα και άστεγη και άνεργη. Με μόνη δύναμη τις λέξεις που ήθελε να βγάλει από μέσα της.

Οι εμπειρίες που καταγράφει είναι τόσο ακραίες και σκληρές που θα ταίριαζαν περισσότερο σε μυθοπλασία. Αλλά είναι αληθινές. Η Ντεμπρέ ξεκίνησε έναν δικαστικό αγώνα για το πιο στοιχειώδες δικαίωμα μιας μητέρας. Αρχικά της το αρνήθηκαν. Κι όταν της το παραχώρησαν με καθυστέρηση, άρχισε να βάζει εμπόδια ο πρώην άντρας της. Αποξενώθηκε από τον γιο της. Το αποδέχτηκε πικρά στο τέλος κι αποφάσισε να ζήσει τη ζωή της.

Είναι αυτή η εμμονή στην αυτονομία και τον αυτοπροσδιορισμό μια πράξη άκρατου εγωισμού; Οφείλει μια μητέρα να θυσιάσει τα πάντα για το παιδί της; Πόσο στρεβλή είναι η αντίληψη περί μητρότητας; Ο αναγνώστης μπορεί να διαφωνήσει ή να εξοργιστεί με όσα γράφει η Ντεμπρέ. Αλλά το μόνο σίγουρο είναι ότι δεν θα τα ξεχάσει.

[Delphine Pernot · Rating 2 out of 5]

Un livre qui divise.

L'histoire aurait pu être touchante, celle d'une mère devenue lesbienne qui se fait confisquer son fils par son ex mari. Mais tous les à côté prennent trop de place et deviennent comme ce piment qu'on met dans un plat et qui nous lâche des mains au moment de l'assaisonnement, rendant le plat immangeable.
Constance, je suis désolée car ton histoire est triste mais je t'ai détestée une grande partie de ton livre. Tu es une ancienne bourgeoise qui se la joue prolétaire. Insupportable. Pourquoi mais pourquoi parler si mal des femmes que tu fréquentes ? J'ai eu l'impression de lire un homme à la Beigbeder ou Moix. Ton style qui se la joue Despentes est très paradoxal. Parfois de beaux passages mais pas mal de ratés.

C'est un non sans regret.

[Rodrigo Aguirre · Rating 5 out of 5]

Insufriblemente francesa. Toques de Preciado y Despentes. Bastante de burguesa victimizada. Muy interesante ese performar la masculinidad, consciente o inconscientemente, desde la mirada de una mujer.
Mucho de lo que hablar con este libro. Y oye, aunque no sea muy popular: me he encariñado con la protagonista, algo que jamás hubiera pasado si fuera EL protagonista. Quizás porque, por muy mariquita que yo sea, he sido socializado como un hombre, y es algo de lo que nunca me voy a desprender.

[Louise · Rating 2 out of 5]

Meilleur que son premier livre. Je suis tres partagee, ses romans me piquent et m’agacent, par leur vide et leur creux. Leur nihilisme. Leur cynisme. Et ensuite les jours suivants je suis travaillee par ses mots. Cette deconstruction de la feminite classique m’interesse. Elle cherche la liberte. Et la lire efface la culpabilite que la societe a instille aux femmes.

[Sarah Schulman]

It took me a long time to read this short book. The writing is very emotive. There are places where the writing is very strong and engaging and you want to sit with it and appreciate and relate to it. Then there are places where it is a bit retro, and feels like it comes from 30-40 years ago. There is nothing wrong with that, it shows the roots of the work, but the contrast took me out. And there is nothing wrong with that either. It is primarily a book about a woman being punished for changing her sexual life, punished by having her child taken from her. In this way it is in the tradition of books like Crimes Against Nature by Minnie Bruce Pratt. It is a story that is under-told. At the same time there are mysterious inconsistencies in the creation of the protagonist, and all people have inconsistencies, so that is not in and of itself a flaw- but what compels her to women at such a high cost is hard to grasp because of her rejection of women. That is not a moral judgement but more of a plot confusion. She wants something so badly that she will give up a lot of her life as she knew it, but she doesn't really want it. Of course I have known people like this, so it is a real life perspective. I guess I was looking for some insight into this conflict, and instead it just repeated- which is also common. So, in the end it is a kind of hyper-realism.

[Caterina Fake]

Anhedonic, loveless, alienated and cool, our protagonist leaves husband and child, job and home for a series of joyless sexual encounters, anchorite quarters, and what was to me a horror beyond conception: no books. She called this life “freedom”, and if this is what freedom is like, it makes one reconsider the delights that might be found in captivity.

The French have this wacky compulsion to write a book several times, telling the same story again and again, publishing drafts and half-baked books, destabilizing every written thing, and publishing what seem to me, a reader principally reading in English, inchoate and formless jottings of an offhand nature. This was that.

This incidental style might make such books feel true or immediate, but it also makes them slight.

[Leone Mattheus · Rating 3 out of 5]

'Love Me Tender' van Constance Debré leest supervlot, bijna een beetje achteloos. Toch bleef ik me afvragen of het nu autobiografisch is of niet. Het boek lijkt te dicht bij haar eigen leven te staan om volledig fictie te zijn.

De stijl is opvallend: kaal, droog, bijna afstandelijk. Geen mooie zinnen of grote emoties, eerder een soort literaire vlakheid die tegelijk stoort en intrigeert. Je voelt dat er iets onder die toon borrelt, maar Debré weigert het uit te spreken.

Ik weet eigenlijk niet goed wat ik ervan moet vinden. Het is niet ontroerend of meeslepend, maar het blijft wel hangen. Misschien juist omdat het zo vreemd leeg aanvoelt.

[ellie · Rating 5 out of 5]

incredible writing, debré is a surgeon of craft, her prose is like cut glass

“It's the tipping point, the Kairos, it's like the conversion of Saint Augustine, just as radical. It's not just a matter of him believing in God or me liking women, it's the fact that there's a life before and a life after. For me, homosexuality isn't about who I'm fucking, it's about who I become. With men there was always a limit, now I have all the space I want, I feel like I can do anything. Women, love, sex, in the beginning it was all new and exciting, but not anymore. It's all still there, of course, it's still the subject matter of what's happening to me, but it's not important, like the décor of a room, I have to go beyond that to find what I'm looking for. For me, homosexuality just means taking a break from everything. That's exactly what it is, a long vacation, expansive as the sea with nothing on the horizon, nothing to close it, nothing to define it. That's why I quit my job. To be both the master and the slave, the only one responsible for setting the limits. Work, family, apartments, finito. And you can't imagine how good it feels.”

[Astrid Inge · Rating 4 out of 5]

Een bijzonder rauw verhaal, nuchter en bijna afstandelijk geschreven. Indrukwekkend.

[G_occasionally_reads [semi-hiatus cuz work] · Rating 1 out of 5]

The premise of the book is strong:
⬆️ Highlighting that when a woman acts like a man, she is often judged, accused, and excluded from others' lives. Vice versa, men are frequently praised for similar behaviors, such as keeping a list of women they sleep with.
⬆️ Being a mother does not define a person. Being a mother does not mean a woman becomes nothing else. Women have their agency, their desires, and their aspirations.
⬆️ Letting go of the past is difficult.

Unfortunately, the execution is one of the least inspiring and interesting I have had the displeasure of reading.

What I could have done with less of:
👎 The repetitiveness — I've never seen so much repetition. I understand the author’s intention to show that the MC is trying to convince herself, but I still could have used 10 or 50 fewer repetitions. This book reads as a cyclical, spiraling stream of thoughts.
👎 The nonsensical idea of 'abandoning everything and everybody, but still writing about system oppression.' Ugh, we already know. Tell me something new. And maybe (just maybe) do not blame others and the system for everything.
👎 The idiotic middle life crisis (no, I am not talking about dating women, that is all good and actually good for you), but living with no money, stealing stuff to survive, and depending on friends to pay for dinner.
👎 The tone is judgmental at times. The author sounds homophobic—despite being a lesbian—with a classist attitude. It felt very 2005.

Overall, the book felt like reading a letter written by an angry, horny teenager fused with a middle-aged white man experiencing an identity crisis. I wonder how much of this is drawn from the author's life and how much of it is fiction. Also, dear Constance, are you ok? do you need a hug?

Actual footage of me trying to get through this book: