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La veuve Couderc
Les caprices du désir
Libéré après cinq ans de prison, Jean est engagé comme valet de ferme par Tati, surnom de la veuve Couderc. Celle-ci, entrée à quatorze ans comme servante chez Couderc, mariée à dix-sept au fils de la famille et veuve de bonne heure, a pris la direction de la maison.
Adapté pour le cinéma par Pierre Granier-Deferre en 1971, avec Simone Signoret (Veuve Couderc), Alain Delon (Jean Lavigne), Ottavia Piccolo (Félicie) et Jean Tissier (Henri) (dialogues : Pascal Jardin).
Simenon en numérique : les enquêtes du célèbre commissaire Maigret, et les très "noirs' Romans durs
202 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1942
55 people are currently reading
1680 people want to read
About the author
Georges Simenon
2,738 books2,302 followersGeorges Joseph Christian Simenon (1903 – 1989) was a Belgian writer. A prolific author who published nearly 500 novels and numerous short works, Simenon is best known as the creator of the fictional detective Jules Maigret.
Although he never resided in Belgium after 1922, he remained a Belgian citizen throughout his life.
Simenon was one of the most prolific writers of the twentieth century, capable of writing 60 to 80 pages per day. His oeuvre includes nearly 200 novels, over 150 novellas, several autobiographical works, numerous articles, and scores of pulp novels written under more than two dozen pseudonyms. Altogether, about 550 million copies of his works have been printed.
He is best known, however, for his 75 novels and 28 short stories featuring Commissaire Maigret. The first novel in the series, Pietr-le-Letton, appeared in 1931; the last one, Maigret et M. Charles, was published in 1972. The Maigret novels were translated into all major languages and several of them were turned into films and radio plays. Two television series (1960-63 and 1992-93) have been made in Great Britain.
During his "American" period, Simenon reached the height of his creative powers, and several novels of those years were inspired by the context in which they were written (Trois chambres à Manhattan (1946), Maigret à New York (1947), Maigret se fâche (1947)).
Simenon also wrote a large number of "psychological novels", such as La neige était sale (1948) or Le fils (1957), as well as several autobiographical works, in particular Je me souviens (1945), Pedigree (1948), Mémoires intimes (1981).
In 1966, Simenon was given the MWA's highest honor, the Grand Master Award.
In 2005 he was nominated for the title of De Grootste Belg (The Greatest Belgian). In the Flemish version he ended 77th place. In the Walloon version he ended 10th place.
Although he never resided in Belgium after 1922, he remained a Belgian citizen throughout his life.
Simenon was one of the most prolific writers of the twentieth century, capable of writing 60 to 80 pages per day. His oeuvre includes nearly 200 novels, over 150 novellas, several autobiographical works, numerous articles, and scores of pulp novels written under more than two dozen pseudonyms. Altogether, about 550 million copies of his works have been printed.
He is best known, however, for his 75 novels and 28 short stories featuring Commissaire Maigret. The first novel in the series, Pietr-le-Letton, appeared in 1931; the last one, Maigret et M. Charles, was published in 1972. The Maigret novels were translated into all major languages and several of them were turned into films and radio plays. Two television series (1960-63 and 1992-93) have been made in Great Britain.
During his "American" period, Simenon reached the height of his creative powers, and several novels of those years were inspired by the context in which they were written (Trois chambres à Manhattan (1946), Maigret à New York (1947), Maigret se fâche (1947)).
Simenon also wrote a large number of "psychological novels", such as La neige était sale (1948) or Le fils (1957), as well as several autobiographical works, in particular Je me souviens (1945), Pedigree (1948), Mémoires intimes (1981).
In 1966, Simenon was given the MWA's highest honor, the Grand Master Award.
In 2005 he was nominated for the title of De Grootste Belg (The Greatest Belgian). In the Flemish version he ended 77th place. In the Walloon version he ended 10th place.
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March 26, 2018
”Murder shall entail the death penalty when it precedes, accompanies or follows another crime.”
“It just happened. As though a moment comes when it's both necessary and natural to make a decision that has long since been made. ”
― Georges Simenon
When Jean meets the eyes of the widow Tati on the bus he feels a slight shudder in the universe; and decides, on the spur of the moment, that he is going to get off the bus. It is the French countryside, so when Tati sees Jean walking up to her door she knows he is there for her.
Tati was indentured to the Couderc farmstead at the age of 14. She became pregnant by the son necessitating a quick wedding leaving two sisters, now sister-in-laws, bitter that the hired help now has the inside track on the inheritance. She has a father-in-law, Couderc, who chased her around the stables, the table, and eventually into a mound of hay or bed if one is convenient. This is long before her husband dies.
She is now 45 years old and would not be considered beautiful.
”...he pursed up his lips as though smiling to himself. Perhaps he was amused at widow Conderc’s wen. Everyone called it ‘the wen’. It was on her left cheek, a spot the size of a five-franc piece, a spot covered with hundreds of brown, silky hairs, as if a piece of animal’s hide, a marten say, had been grafted there.”
The Wen was the size of a Five franc coin.
She has a squat and solid body made for farm work. As Conderc starts to have more and more marbles rattling loose in his head. The bulk of the work has fallen to Tati. She has ideas about how to produce more income from the farm. Her “cunning eyes” are not just for show. She needs help and Jean’s arrival could not have been more perfectly timed.
She takes Jean to bed... right after church.
She explains that she will still need to give a “bit of fun” to the demented, but still horny Conderc. That does not concern Jean, after all he has just been released from prison, and from both perspectives it only seems practical that they will occasionally have sex. It isn’t love, nor lust, but simply a business arrangement.
There is one fly in the milk.
”He had nothing to say to her. He craved to be near her, but he had never thought of saying this or that. As he walked, he observed her profile and noted that her lower lip was full, almost swollen, which gave her a reflective, even a pouting look. She also had a very white, very fine skin, like all red-haired women, and very tiny ears.”
Ahh the girl next door.
Tati’s niece... Felicie. She is only sixteen, but she already has a child. The arrangement with Jean might be business, but no 45 year old woman wants to find herself competing for the attentions of a man with a 16 year old girl. Business or not, the green-eyed monster of jealousy stirs to life.
”Every person condemned to death shall be decapitated.”
As word of Jean’s criminal background circulates the countryside, the two sisters decide that it is too dangerous for Conderc to reside with someone so dangerous. There becomes this comical tug of war between the three women for possession of an old fool, that except for the inheritance, has no worth to anyone.
Simenon has so many potential flashpoints percolating throughout the plot. The speculation becomes what will happen first. There is this growing unease as the suspense reaches this high pitched sound like a teapot singing under heat. As Jean is put under more and more pressure we wonder can he escape himself.
Albert Camus...the rival.
I did not realize until I read the fascinating introduction for this book written by Paul Theroux that Georges Simenon had a rivalry with the decade younger Albert Camus. Theroux gives us an idea of the comparison.
”If reading Camus represents duty, Simenon represents indulgence, a lavishness that seems frivolous, inspiring a greedy satisfaction that shows a self-consciousness in even the most well-intentioned introductions to his work, the critic’s awkwardness over a pleasurable text, together with a shiver of snooty superfluity and the palpable cringe, common to many introducers of a Simenon novel, What am I doing here?
Simenon takes some sorting out, because at first glance he seems easily classified and on second thought (after you have read fifty or sixty of his books) unclassifiable. The Camus comparison is not gratuitous--Simenon often made it himself, and Andre Gide brought the subject up a few years after The Stranger appeared, favoring Simenon’s work, especially this novel.”
Interesting enough The Stranger and The Widow were both published in 1942.
In 1937 Simenon predicted he would win the Nobel Prize within ten years. When Camus won the Prize in 1957 Simenon was most gracious.
”Can you believe that asshole got it and not me?”
It is easy to dismiss Simenon because of the prodigious size of his oeuvre especially in comparison to the slender collected works of Camus. Quantity can be assumed to mean a loss of quality. In regards to Simenon that is simply not true.
We can be distracted by Simenon’s life. He boasted he’d slept with 10,000 women ( long before Wilt Chamberlain boasted a similar number). Simenon’s second wife, after putting pen to paper, came up with a number closer to 1,200, still he was a busy little beaver. He also had an unusual arrangement, living with three women including his ex-wife, his wife, and his secretary all of whom also provided him with sexual entertainment. Despite their best efforts he still constantly sought the services of the bordellos that were, and probably still are, in plentiful supply in Paris. His style is easy to read. You will not be looking up words. He would consider that a failure of style. Nor will you have moments of confusion over a complicated sentence. His books are gritty, real, and always have a final punch that leaves you staring up at the stars thinking to yourself “I didn’t see it coming.”
”Any murder committed with premeditation or preceded by ambush is defined as assassination…”
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
“It just happened. As though a moment comes when it's both necessary and natural to make a decision that has long since been made. ”
― Georges Simenon
When Jean meets the eyes of the widow Tati on the bus he feels a slight shudder in the universe; and decides, on the spur of the moment, that he is going to get off the bus. It is the French countryside, so when Tati sees Jean walking up to her door she knows he is there for her.
Tati was indentured to the Couderc farmstead at the age of 14. She became pregnant by the son necessitating a quick wedding leaving two sisters, now sister-in-laws, bitter that the hired help now has the inside track on the inheritance. She has a father-in-law, Couderc, who chased her around the stables, the table, and eventually into a mound of hay or bed if one is convenient. This is long before her husband dies.
She is now 45 years old and would not be considered beautiful.
”...he pursed up his lips as though smiling to himself. Perhaps he was amused at widow Conderc’s wen. Everyone called it ‘the wen’. It was on her left cheek, a spot the size of a five-franc piece, a spot covered with hundreds of brown, silky hairs, as if a piece of animal’s hide, a marten say, had been grafted there.”
The Wen was the size of a Five franc coin.
She has a squat and solid body made for farm work. As Conderc starts to have more and more marbles rattling loose in his head. The bulk of the work has fallen to Tati. She has ideas about how to produce more income from the farm. Her “cunning eyes” are not just for show. She needs help and Jean’s arrival could not have been more perfectly timed.
She takes Jean to bed... right after church.
She explains that she will still need to give a “bit of fun” to the demented, but still horny Conderc. That does not concern Jean, after all he has just been released from prison, and from both perspectives it only seems practical that they will occasionally have sex. It isn’t love, nor lust, but simply a business arrangement.
There is one fly in the milk.
”He had nothing to say to her. He craved to be near her, but he had never thought of saying this or that. As he walked, he observed her profile and noted that her lower lip was full, almost swollen, which gave her a reflective, even a pouting look. She also had a very white, very fine skin, like all red-haired women, and very tiny ears.”
Ahh the girl next door.
Tati’s niece... Felicie. She is only sixteen, but she already has a child. The arrangement with Jean might be business, but no 45 year old woman wants to find herself competing for the attentions of a man with a 16 year old girl. Business or not, the green-eyed monster of jealousy stirs to life.
”Every person condemned to death shall be decapitated.”
As word of Jean’s criminal background circulates the countryside, the two sisters decide that it is too dangerous for Conderc to reside with someone so dangerous. There becomes this comical tug of war between the three women for possession of an old fool, that except for the inheritance, has no worth to anyone.
Simenon has so many potential flashpoints percolating throughout the plot. The speculation becomes what will happen first. There is this growing unease as the suspense reaches this high pitched sound like a teapot singing under heat. As Jean is put under more and more pressure we wonder can he escape himself.
Albert Camus...the rival.
I did not realize until I read the fascinating introduction for this book written by Paul Theroux that Georges Simenon had a rivalry with the decade younger Albert Camus. Theroux gives us an idea of the comparison.
”If reading Camus represents duty, Simenon represents indulgence, a lavishness that seems frivolous, inspiring a greedy satisfaction that shows a self-consciousness in even the most well-intentioned introductions to his work, the critic’s awkwardness over a pleasurable text, together with a shiver of snooty superfluity and the palpable cringe, common to many introducers of a Simenon novel, What am I doing here?
Simenon takes some sorting out, because at first glance he seems easily classified and on second thought (after you have read fifty or sixty of his books) unclassifiable. The Camus comparison is not gratuitous--Simenon often made it himself, and Andre Gide brought the subject up a few years after The Stranger appeared, favoring Simenon’s work, especially this novel.”
Interesting enough The Stranger and The Widow were both published in 1942.
In 1937 Simenon predicted he would win the Nobel Prize within ten years. When Camus won the Prize in 1957 Simenon was most gracious.
”Can you believe that asshole got it and not me?”
It is easy to dismiss Simenon because of the prodigious size of his oeuvre especially in comparison to the slender collected works of Camus. Quantity can be assumed to mean a loss of quality. In regards to Simenon that is simply not true.
We can be distracted by Simenon’s life. He boasted he’d slept with 10,000 women ( long before Wilt Chamberlain boasted a similar number). Simenon’s second wife, after putting pen to paper, came up with a number closer to 1,200, still he was a busy little beaver. He also had an unusual arrangement, living with three women including his ex-wife, his wife, and his secretary all of whom also provided him with sexual entertainment. Despite their best efforts he still constantly sought the services of the bordellos that were, and probably still are, in plentiful supply in Paris. His style is easy to read. You will not be looking up words. He would consider that a failure of style. Nor will you have moments of confusion over a complicated sentence. His books are gritty, real, and always have a final punch that leaves you staring up at the stars thinking to yourself “I didn’t see it coming.”
”Any murder committed with premeditation or preceded by ambush is defined as assassination…”
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
September 27, 2021
PROVINCIA SEGRETA
Alcuni parlano di misoginia in Simenon, e questo romanzo del 1940 sembra offrire loro terreno fertile.
Ma a me sembra che per Simenon sia adatta la celebre battuta di Linus: Amo l’umanità... È la gente che non sopporto!!
E che sia più giusto riferirsi a un’eventuale misantropia.
Almeno per quanto riguarda l’opera letteraria (confesso che leggendo le interviste allo scrittore belga, ho anch’io avuto più volte una sensazione di misoginia).
Mi sembra più misogino il distributore italiano che del film del 1971, farcito con due stelle come Simone Signoret e Alain Delon, scelse di privilegiare lui, intitolando L’evaso, invece che lei mantenendo il titolo originale riferito alla donna.
Simone Signoret è la vedova Tati Couderc e Alain Delon è Jean Lavigne nel buon film di Pierre Granier-Deferre del 1971.
Anche in questo romanzo (‘duro’) di Simenon non compare un bel campionario umano: la vedova del titolo, Tati, è quarantenne quando il romanzo inizia, donna matura, consumata dalla vita, non particolarmente bella, ma vitale.
È entrata in casa Couderc all’età di quattordici anni come domestica (serva, sguattera), è rimasta incinta del primogenito, che ha poi sposato. Rimasta vedova, per calcolo e quieto vivere, soddisfa senza trasporto le voglie sessuali del suocero, che lei chiama a ragion veduta vecchio porco.
Il figlio è militare in Africa in un battaglione di punizione perché è un giovane delinquente, pressoché senza remissione.
Ottavia Piccolo è Félicie che rompe le uova nel paniere della vedova.
Jean, l’evaso del titolo del film in italiano, il conturbante Alain Delon, è appena uscito di galera, pur essendo giovane di buona famiglia, borghese ma ribelle, in fuga dal suo mondo.
Arriva a Montluçon, in Alvernia, in corriera, quasi per caso, leggero come un uomo che niente tiene legato a niente.
In cambio di vitto e alloggio, è disposto ad aiutare nei lavori di campagna: tutto pur di stare lontano dalla sua famiglia d’origine, che disprezza.
Ci vuole poco perché scateni nella milf (ma non cougar) una rovente passione all’insegna della possessività (=gelosia).
Le due donne rivali in amore, due generazioni in lotta.
Ma accanto al cascinale dei Couderc abita una giovane nipote (Ottavia Piccolo nel film), e ben presto Jean ne subisce il fascino.
La vedova Couderc prova a metterlo in guardia, prova a fargli capire che lei è un buon partito (col tempo, lavorando e risparmiando, ha messo da parte un gruzzoletto, ed è destinata a ereditare la piccola proprietà, con grande ira delle cognate).
Non si salva nessuno, non il campionario umano, ma neppure l’ambiente geografico: entrambi sono chiusi, duri, immobili, egoisti, provati, rabbiosi, gretti. Posti e persone che sembrano non conoscere sentimento ed emozione, ma solo istinto (primitivo).
E nessuno sfugge al suo destino.
Con banale riferimento, si direbbe che siamo in clima da tragedia shakespeariana, dove il fato è per definizione ineluttabile, e l’epilogo non può certo essere hollywoodiano, ma piuttosto drammatico e irreparabile.
Alcuni parlano di misoginia in Simenon, e questo romanzo del 1940 sembra offrire loro terreno fertile.
Ma a me sembra che per Simenon sia adatta la celebre battuta di Linus: Amo l’umanità... È la gente che non sopporto!!
E che sia più giusto riferirsi a un’eventuale misantropia.
Almeno per quanto riguarda l’opera letteraria (confesso che leggendo le interviste allo scrittore belga, ho anch’io avuto più volte una sensazione di misoginia).
Mi sembra più misogino il distributore italiano che del film del 1971, farcito con due stelle come Simone Signoret e Alain Delon, scelse di privilegiare lui, intitolando L’evaso, invece che lei mantenendo il titolo originale riferito alla donna.
Simone Signoret è la vedova Tati Couderc e Alain Delon è Jean Lavigne nel buon film di Pierre Granier-Deferre del 1971.
Anche in questo romanzo (‘duro’) di Simenon non compare un bel campionario umano: la vedova del titolo, Tati, è quarantenne quando il romanzo inizia, donna matura, consumata dalla vita, non particolarmente bella, ma vitale.
È entrata in casa Couderc all’età di quattordici anni come domestica (serva, sguattera), è rimasta incinta del primogenito, che ha poi sposato. Rimasta vedova, per calcolo e quieto vivere, soddisfa senza trasporto le voglie sessuali del suocero, che lei chiama a ragion veduta vecchio porco.
Il figlio è militare in Africa in un battaglione di punizione perché è un giovane delinquente, pressoché senza remissione.
Ottavia Piccolo è Félicie che rompe le uova nel paniere della vedova.
Jean, l’evaso del titolo del film in italiano, il conturbante Alain Delon, è appena uscito di galera, pur essendo giovane di buona famiglia, borghese ma ribelle, in fuga dal suo mondo.
Arriva a Montluçon, in Alvernia, in corriera, quasi per caso, leggero come un uomo che niente tiene legato a niente.
In cambio di vitto e alloggio, è disposto ad aiutare nei lavori di campagna: tutto pur di stare lontano dalla sua famiglia d’origine, che disprezza.
Ci vuole poco perché scateni nella milf (ma non cougar) una rovente passione all’insegna della possessività (=gelosia).
Le due donne rivali in amore, due generazioni in lotta.
Ma accanto al cascinale dei Couderc abita una giovane nipote (Ottavia Piccolo nel film), e ben presto Jean ne subisce il fascino.
La vedova Couderc prova a metterlo in guardia, prova a fargli capire che lei è un buon partito (col tempo, lavorando e risparmiando, ha messo da parte un gruzzoletto, ed è destinata a ereditare la piccola proprietà, con grande ira delle cognate).
Non si salva nessuno, non il campionario umano, ma neppure l’ambiente geografico: entrambi sono chiusi, duri, immobili, egoisti, provati, rabbiosi, gretti. Posti e persone che sembrano non conoscere sentimento ed emozione, ma solo istinto (primitivo).
E nessuno sfugge al suo destino.
Con banale riferimento, si direbbe che siamo in clima da tragedia shakespeariana, dove il fato è per definizione ineluttabile, e l’epilogo non può certo essere hollywoodiano, ma piuttosto drammatico e irreparabile.
March 2, 2021
Another roman dur of Georges Simenon written in that simple yet beautiful language of his. The setting of this tale is rather unusual for Simenon. A primitive farm house in the middle of nowhere in the middle of France. Simenon’s stories are mostly in urban settings or countryside manors, so it is rather out of his usual environment where this story takes place. It was remarkable to read about the care of cows, chickens and rabbits. I wondered where Simenon got that information about chicken incubating machines and how to milk cows! Jean, the protagonist, a very quiet man with a violent past, is clearly not quite well mentally and, in view of his background, is certainly out of place at a farm. But he does his work well and seems to enjoy it. His mistress, the widow Tati, is a strong older lady. Simenon provides such a stronge picture of Tati that I am sure he based her on someone he knew, as was his habit to do according to his biography. He must have seen that spot with long hairs on her cheek before, it's too minutely described. You know the peaceful and quiet behaviour of Jean cannot possibly last for long and, of course, it does not.
I liked this rural roman dur. On to the next urban one!
I liked this rural roman dur. On to the next urban one!
Read
December 14, 2020
The Widow - A Simenon thriller filled with grungy, gritty women and men right off the pages of a novel by the king of grungy and gritty - Jim Thomson.
All the Simenon romans durs (hard novels) I've read so far, when set in Europe, take place in a town or city, frequently Paris. The Widow does not; we're on a farm out in the country and the characters are vintage Jim Thompson grubby right down to their filthy toenails.
As if adding powder and more powder to a keg of dynamite, Simenon brings together a number of characters:
Tati, a 45-year old, not very attractive farm widow;
Jean, recently released from a five year prison sentence (he committed murder) who begins working on Tati's farm;
Couderc, Tati's randy father-in-law who works on the farm and on occasion has shared Tati's bed;
Félicie, Tati's 16-year-old red-haired niece who nearly always carries her baby with her;
a number of Tati's in-laws who would like nothing more than kick Tati out and take over the farmhouse.
In his essay on Simenon, Irish author and critic John Banville writes, "The is existentialism with the backbone of tempered steel."
And in his Introduction to this New York Review Books edition, Paul Theroux notes, "The novel (The Widow) becomes implicitly existential, though Simenon would scoff at such a word: there is no philosophical meditation in the narrative. Jean has been put on a road to ruin by Simenon - been set up, indeed."
How set up? Why would Simenon do such a thing? Read this steely tale to find out.
Georges Simenon, 1903-1989
“It just happened. As though a moment comes when it's both necessary and natural to make a decision that has long since been made." - Georges Simenon, The Widow
April 26, 2018
Personaggi dei Romans Durs
L’uomo camminava. Per almeno tre chilometri, su quella strada tagliata diagonalmente, ogni dieci metri, dall’ombra di un tronco d’albero, c’era soltanto lui;
Che lo abbia visto quell’uomo? Che sia stato io, un giorno d’estate? L’ombra del tronco senza la chioma mi fa pensare ai cipressi, presenti nella maggior parte delle cartoline che vengono spedite dalla mia regione. Come faccio a spiegare la soddisfazione che mi dà questo modo di scrivere? L’uomo camminava, c’era soltanto lui. Caro lettore, ti racconterò la storia di un uomo solo sotto un sole che rende oblique le sagome di alberi inadatti a fare ombra. Il cipresso è una pianta solitaria, lo sarà anche il protagonista Jean Passerat-Monnoyeur. Ci sono dei solitari fra di voi? Ci sono persone che hanno avuto pensieri inconfessabili? Ci sono persone che si sentono strizzate dalla vita che stanno conducendo? Vi ritroverete ad essere personaggi dei Romans Durs e tutto ciò che vorreste accadesse e allo stesso tempo temete che accada, accadrà.
Simenon non punta sul fattore sorpresa, gli è sufficiente assecondare il lato oscuro degli individui e sceneggiare le loro fantasie segrete.
Ne “La vedova Courderc” l’inevitabile si respira mescolato al tanfo di fieno umido, sterco e disinfettante, la tensione è più spugnosa che in altri “romans durs” i dialoghi sono meno incisivi. Non è il migliore, ma è pur sempre un Simenon. Leggetene uno qualunque, nel caso vi piaccia, avrete la possibilità di ripetere l’esperienza in 117 modi simili (senza tener conto della produzione poliziesca e di quella sotto pseudonimi). Io sono arrivato a quota 17 e non ho intenzione di fermarmi.
L’uomo camminava. Per almeno tre chilometri, su quella strada tagliata diagonalmente, ogni dieci metri, dall’ombra di un tronco d’albero, c’era soltanto lui;
Che lo abbia visto quell’uomo? Che sia stato io, un giorno d’estate? L’ombra del tronco senza la chioma mi fa pensare ai cipressi, presenti nella maggior parte delle cartoline che vengono spedite dalla mia regione. Come faccio a spiegare la soddisfazione che mi dà questo modo di scrivere? L’uomo camminava, c’era soltanto lui. Caro lettore, ti racconterò la storia di un uomo solo sotto un sole che rende oblique le sagome di alberi inadatti a fare ombra. Il cipresso è una pianta solitaria, lo sarà anche il protagonista Jean Passerat-Monnoyeur. Ci sono dei solitari fra di voi? Ci sono persone che hanno avuto pensieri inconfessabili? Ci sono persone che si sentono strizzate dalla vita che stanno conducendo? Vi ritroverete ad essere personaggi dei Romans Durs e tutto ciò che vorreste accadesse e allo stesso tempo temete che accada, accadrà.
Simenon non punta sul fattore sorpresa, gli è sufficiente assecondare il lato oscuro degli individui e sceneggiare le loro fantasie segrete.
Ne “La vedova Courderc” l’inevitabile si respira mescolato al tanfo di fieno umido, sterco e disinfettante, la tensione è più spugnosa che in altri “romans durs” i dialoghi sono meno incisivi. Non è il migliore, ma è pur sempre un Simenon. Leggetene uno qualunque, nel caso vi piaccia, avrete la possibilità di ripetere l’esperienza in 117 modi simili (senza tener conto della produzione poliziesca e di quella sotto pseudonimi). Io sono arrivato a quota 17 e non ho intenzione di fermarmi.
March 14, 2017
A man walking. One man, on a stretch of road three miles long cut slantwise every ten yards by the shadow of a tree trunk, striding unhurriedly from one shadow to the next. As it was almost noon, with the sun nearly at its highest point, a short, ridiculously squat shadow - his own - slid in front of him. [...] Ten, nine, eight miles farther along the man was still walking on, like someone going nowhere in particular with nothing particular in mind. No luggage, no packages, no walking stick, not even a switch cut from the hedge. His arms swung freely.
His name is Jean, and he is a drifter. His freedom is the freedom of the homeless, the penniless, the lonely. Soon enough we will learn that Jean has just been released from prison. He is a murderer, an outcast, but for the moment, on the black & white striped road, Jean is picked up by a local bus. In the crowd of peasant women returning from the Saturday morning market, Jean crosses eyes with the widow Tati Couderc. Some secret chemistry takes place in this exchange of glances, some instant recognition between people rejected by polite society. At the next stop, Jean and Tati descend together and head towards the woman's farmhouse, a big old house surrounded by poultry, rabbit hutches and a couple of cows.
There are about twenty years in age difference between the widow and the convict, also of social background - one born and raised to hard labour in the country, the other the scion of a wealthy merchant family, one who went into servitude as a teenager, the other a depraved, failed student at law in Paris. Yet there is instant recognition of something in their eyes, something that has no need for words almost. Enchanted by the hard but ordered peasant life and by the old house, Jean stays on as a farmhand under the supervision of the dumpy, hard as nails widow Couderc.
Her eyes were eating him up. She was taking possession of him. She wasn't afraid. She wanted him to understand that she wasn't afraid of him.
- - - -
It had been so wonderful when he got out of the bus, there in the sunshine! And when he had discovered the house, with all the little cares that it demanded and that took up the whole day!
To a young man born and raised in a big city, life 'a la campagne' might seem idyllic, at least in the beginning, but underneath the wholesome image there is deep rot, often spanning across generations and almost always this sickness is coming from inside the blood relations - either inheritance quarells or lust. The house of the widow Couderc is plagued by both: the relatives of her husbands family want to drive the intruder (former servant) out of their family house. Her own daughter is living across a water channel, sixteen and already mother to a bastard child. Her decrepit father in law is pottering around the yard and still chasing Tati's skirts. Her son is off in the army after being run out of the village for petty theft. To survive this combined hatred and bad luck, the widow Couderc must become callous and vicious in her turn. The merit of Simenon in painting her portrait goes deeper than making Tati the opposie of the usual femme fatale from pulp fiction. He makes Tati a complex being, still hopeful for the future, still working hard to make her household dreams come true, still insecure behind her hard facade.
The same depth can be found in the portrait of Jean - at first glance a complacent man, going with he flow, self-contained and even slightly boring. As we spend more time in his company we get to know about family traumas of his own - a decadent father, a hateful teacher, a selfish sister, a coquette in Paris wh broke his heart and in the end drove him to murder. At the farm, the peace Jean hoped to find in the daily work routines is shattered by remorseful nightmares about killing another human being and by still irrepressible lust for the young teenage mother across the river.
Sometimes anguish would seize him by the throat: what would become of him if? ...
Nothing! nothing would become of him. He had given up. It was too late!
I knew before starting the novel that this is considered one of the 'roman durs' by Simenon - an existentialist tragedy that makes no compromises about a dismal view of human nature. Without going into details, the novel delivered on this dark promise and the ending seems in retrospect predestined from the very first glance between Jean and Tati across the crowded bus.
>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<
The Widow is my first mature read by prolific author Georges Simenon, after a couple of teenage Maigrets that proved to be entirely forgettable. The most remarcable result of this delayed foray is to expose my own shortcomings ans snobbery as a reader. I like to see myself as well informed and interested in almost any genre, yet I had little interest in Simenon, believing that an author who writes more pages in a day than I usually read (60 to 80, according to wikipedia) must be some kind of hack writer only interested in making money and in providing cheap thrills to his readership. Mea culpa: one book was enough to prove me wrong, and when I went back to read the Paul Theroux introduction ( I like to read them as afterwords in order to avoid spoilers), I came across this surprisingly accurate observation:
Simenon considered himself the equal of Balzac. He regarded his novels as a modern-day 'Comedie Humaine'.
also, from a Simenon interview:
Writing is not a profession but a vocation of unhappiness
The Widow is not a happy story, it's not designed to make you feel better about yourself or to dream about picnics in the sunshine by a sparkling river. In its own way, it is probably a truer to life story than most crime fictions I have read lately. I cannot make any comparison with Sartre or Camus, since they are still on my waiting list, but an early impression of being in a James M Cain kind of world survived after the last page - maybe from the sense of unavoidable doom cast on the characters, people who try but cannot escape their inner demons. Here's another relevant passage for me from the same Paul Theroux introduction:
You will never learn a new word in a Simenon. And you will never laugh. Comedy is absent, humor is rare.
Simenon's characters read newspapers, usually bad news or crimes; they plot, lie, cheat, steal, sweat, have sex; frequently they commit murder, and just as often they commit suicide. They never read books or quote from them. They never study (as Simenon did, to mug up on detail). They are generally fussing at the margins of the working world, coming apart, hurtling downward, toward oblivion.
>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<
I plan to read more from Simenon, despite my own preferences for a bit of humour and a bit of sunlight in my lectures. I understand there's also a French movie based on the novel with Simone Signoret and Alain Delon in the roles of Tati and Jean. That might be worth watching also, especially for Signoret, whom I consider one of the greatest French actresses.
His name is Jean, and he is a drifter. His freedom is the freedom of the homeless, the penniless, the lonely. Soon enough we will learn that Jean has just been released from prison. He is a murderer, an outcast, but for the moment, on the black & white striped road, Jean is picked up by a local bus. In the crowd of peasant women returning from the Saturday morning market, Jean crosses eyes with the widow Tati Couderc. Some secret chemistry takes place in this exchange of glances, some instant recognition between people rejected by polite society. At the next stop, Jean and Tati descend together and head towards the woman's farmhouse, a big old house surrounded by poultry, rabbit hutches and a couple of cows.
There are about twenty years in age difference between the widow and the convict, also of social background - one born and raised to hard labour in the country, the other the scion of a wealthy merchant family, one who went into servitude as a teenager, the other a depraved, failed student at law in Paris. Yet there is instant recognition of something in their eyes, something that has no need for words almost. Enchanted by the hard but ordered peasant life and by the old house, Jean stays on as a farmhand under the supervision of the dumpy, hard as nails widow Couderc.
Her eyes were eating him up. She was taking possession of him. She wasn't afraid. She wanted him to understand that she wasn't afraid of him.
- - - -
It had been so wonderful when he got out of the bus, there in the sunshine! And when he had discovered the house, with all the little cares that it demanded and that took up the whole day!
To a young man born and raised in a big city, life 'a la campagne' might seem idyllic, at least in the beginning, but underneath the wholesome image there is deep rot, often spanning across generations and almost always this sickness is coming from inside the blood relations - either inheritance quarells or lust. The house of the widow Couderc is plagued by both: the relatives of her husbands family want to drive the intruder (former servant) out of their family house. Her own daughter is living across a water channel, sixteen and already mother to a bastard child. Her decrepit father in law is pottering around the yard and still chasing Tati's skirts. Her son is off in the army after being run out of the village for petty theft. To survive this combined hatred and bad luck, the widow Couderc must become callous and vicious in her turn. The merit of Simenon in painting her portrait goes deeper than making Tati the opposie of the usual femme fatale from pulp fiction. He makes Tati a complex being, still hopeful for the future, still working hard to make her household dreams come true, still insecure behind her hard facade.
The same depth can be found in the portrait of Jean - at first glance a complacent man, going with he flow, self-contained and even slightly boring. As we spend more time in his company we get to know about family traumas of his own - a decadent father, a hateful teacher, a selfish sister, a coquette in Paris wh broke his heart and in the end drove him to murder. At the farm, the peace Jean hoped to find in the daily work routines is shattered by remorseful nightmares about killing another human being and by still irrepressible lust for the young teenage mother across the river.
Sometimes anguish would seize him by the throat: what would become of him if? ...
Nothing! nothing would become of him. He had given up. It was too late!
I knew before starting the novel that this is considered one of the 'roman durs' by Simenon - an existentialist tragedy that makes no compromises about a dismal view of human nature. Without going into details, the novel delivered on this dark promise and the ending seems in retrospect predestined from the very first glance between Jean and Tati across the crowded bus.
>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<
The Widow is my first mature read by prolific author Georges Simenon, after a couple of teenage Maigrets that proved to be entirely forgettable. The most remarcable result of this delayed foray is to expose my own shortcomings ans snobbery as a reader. I like to see myself as well informed and interested in almost any genre, yet I had little interest in Simenon, believing that an author who writes more pages in a day than I usually read (60 to 80, according to wikipedia) must be some kind of hack writer only interested in making money and in providing cheap thrills to his readership. Mea culpa: one book was enough to prove me wrong, and when I went back to read the Paul Theroux introduction ( I like to read them as afterwords in order to avoid spoilers), I came across this surprisingly accurate observation:
Simenon considered himself the equal of Balzac. He regarded his novels as a modern-day 'Comedie Humaine'.
also, from a Simenon interview:
Writing is not a profession but a vocation of unhappiness
The Widow is not a happy story, it's not designed to make you feel better about yourself or to dream about picnics in the sunshine by a sparkling river. In its own way, it is probably a truer to life story than most crime fictions I have read lately. I cannot make any comparison with Sartre or Camus, since they are still on my waiting list, but an early impression of being in a James M Cain kind of world survived after the last page - maybe from the sense of unavoidable doom cast on the characters, people who try but cannot escape their inner demons. Here's another relevant passage for me from the same Paul Theroux introduction:
You will never learn a new word in a Simenon. And you will never laugh. Comedy is absent, humor is rare.
Simenon's characters read newspapers, usually bad news or crimes; they plot, lie, cheat, steal, sweat, have sex; frequently they commit murder, and just as often they commit suicide. They never read books or quote from them. They never study (as Simenon did, to mug up on detail). They are generally fussing at the margins of the working world, coming apart, hurtling downward, toward oblivion.
>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<
I plan to read more from Simenon, despite my own preferences for a bit of humour and a bit of sunlight in my lectures. I understand there's also a French movie based on the novel with Simone Signoret and Alain Delon in the roles of Tati and Jean. That might be worth watching also, especially for Signoret, whom I consider one of the greatest French actresses.
January 17, 2018
I think I have said before that Goodreads has provided me the opportunity to encounter authors I might not have found if left to my own devices. Georges Simenon is certainly one of these. He was a prolific author and I have barely dipped my toe in the water. This NYRB edition has a wonderful introduction by Paul Theroux. At least it is wonderful in so far as he writes about Simenon himself - I freely admit I stopped reading when he started writing about this novel.
Albert Camus' novel The Stranger and this by Simenon were published in the same year, and Theroux thought it worthwhile to comment on the two of them. If reading Camus represents duty, Simenon represents indulgence, a lavishness that seems frivolous, inspiring a greedy satisfaction ... he writes. As I read the Camus last month, it was easy for me to nod my head in agreement. Simenon's prose is neither lavish nor frivolous, but there is something about which he writes that makes it so.
Later in this introduction, Theroux says
Simenon was even more prolific than Balzac. I have always hoped to read all of Balzac, but it is unlikely I'll get to all of Simenon if for no other reason than the pure volume of his output. Still, I will be happy (or moved more appropriately) to read more of him. This gets 5-stars - so much so that, given its brevity, I might be inclined to reread it, something I'm inclined to do rarely.
Albert Camus' novel The Stranger and this by Simenon were published in the same year, and Theroux thought it worthwhile to comment on the two of them. If reading Camus represents duty, Simenon represents indulgence, a lavishness that seems frivolous, inspiring a greedy satisfaction ... he writes. As I read the Camus last month, it was easy for me to nod my head in agreement. Simenon's prose is neither lavish nor frivolous, but there is something about which he writes that makes it so.
Later in this introduction, Theroux says
Simenon considered himself the equal of Balzac. He regarded his novels as a modern-day Comédie humaine. ... He was the Balzac of blighted lives, writing out of a suffering that was not obvious until the end of his long career. Material success, one of Balzac’s major themes, is not a theme that interested Simenon, who dwelled on failure, in spite of the fact that he himself was a great success and made a point of crowing about it.Yes, I thought when I finished that this is the indulgence. This is a mood piece, if I may call it that, and certainly a portrait of failure. Failure comes in more than one form, some forms more subtle than others.
Simenon was even more prolific than Balzac. I have always hoped to read all of Balzac, but it is unlikely I'll get to all of Simenon if for no other reason than the pure volume of his output. Still, I will be happy (or moved more appropriately) to read more of him. This gets 5-stars - so much so that, given its brevity, I might be inclined to reread it, something I'm inclined to do rarely.
December 4, 2021
“Non era straordinario che, fra quaranta donne, solo la vedova Couderc avesse guardato quell’uomo in modo diverso da come si guarda uno qualunque? Le altre erano placide e quiete come mucche che, in un prato, vedessero senza meraviglia un lupo intento a brucare in mezzo a loro.”
E così, quando Jean scende dalla corriera, giovane, cupo, a mani vuote, la vedova Couderc, donna di mezza età inquieta e determinata, gli rivolge la parola, lo invita a casa sua, lo assume come garzone, lo ospita e infine “prende possesso di lui”. Lo rende partecipe dei suoi drammi, ne fa un alleato e un complice.
Ma il giovane, appena uscito di prigione, ha una storia di profonda e inconsolabile tristezza, un ritornello martellante che pulsa nella sua testa, un impossibile desiderio di riscatto.
“Camminava in un modo diverso dagli altri. Sembrava che non stesse andando da nessuna parte. Con le braccia penzoloni. Con le scarpe di tela, che non facevano alcun rumore e rendevano la sua andatura più agile. La macchia blu dei pantaloni. La macchia bianca della camicia che aveva lavato e aveva indossato senza stirarla.”
La campagna francese diventa protagonista dell’ennesima storia alla Simenon, dove infelicità e squallore si intrecciano a costruire personaggi che nella loro storia atavica e immutabile hanno inscritto un inevitabile tragico destino.
E così, quando Jean scende dalla corriera, giovane, cupo, a mani vuote, la vedova Couderc, donna di mezza età inquieta e determinata, gli rivolge la parola, lo invita a casa sua, lo assume come garzone, lo ospita e infine “prende possesso di lui”. Lo rende partecipe dei suoi drammi, ne fa un alleato e un complice.
Ma il giovane, appena uscito di prigione, ha una storia di profonda e inconsolabile tristezza, un ritornello martellante che pulsa nella sua testa, un impossibile desiderio di riscatto.
“Camminava in un modo diverso dagli altri. Sembrava che non stesse andando da nessuna parte. Con le braccia penzoloni. Con le scarpe di tela, che non facevano alcun rumore e rendevano la sua andatura più agile. La macchia blu dei pantaloni. La macchia bianca della camicia che aveva lavato e aveva indossato senza stirarla.”
La campagna francese diventa protagonista dell’ennesima storia alla Simenon, dove infelicità e squallore si intrecciano a costruire personaggi che nella loro storia atavica e immutabile hanno inscritto un inevitabile tragico destino.
September 19, 2013
Un altro Simenon, diverso però dagli ultimi letti. Un Simenon che mi ha ricordato uno dei primi che ho letto, La neve era sporca, ed anche uno dei miei preferiti, I fantasmi del cappellaio. Un Simenon nerissimo, senza scampo, in cui nessuno si salva, né i membri della famiglia Couderc, un nido di vipere tra cui corrono solo odi e rancori per motivi di interesse, concentrati come sono nell’attesa dell’eredità del “vecchio porco”Couderc , ma soprattutto alcuna salvezza vi è per Jean, capitato per caso sotto le grinfie della vedova del figlio del “vecchio porco”, una ex serva che si è fatta sposare per poter partecipare alla spartizione degli averi di famiglia. Jean è sbucato da chissà dove, e viene ospitato in casa Couderc dalla donna che ne fa il suo amante. Jean ha un passato oscuro, che man mano viene fuori, trascorso in prigione, ed è ossessionato da sempre da neri fantasmi della mente, che di notte si trasformano in incubi in cui è ossessivamente presente la frase, scritta nel codice penale francese “A tutti i condannati a morte sarà tagliata la testa…”. Per lui la vita in una casa di campagna, ad accudire le bestie e i campi, è un sogno; chiudersi nella routine della vita agreste significa rinchiudere gli spettri che lo seguono. Ma nella routine si inserisce un elemento estraneo, una ragazza che lo attrae, Felicie, nipote del vecchio Couderc. Jean cade in una profonda angoscia, in un’ansia morbosa che lo tengono in bilico tra la gelosia ossessiva della vecchia Couderc e l’attrazione fisica per la giovane Felicie, in un crescendo di drammaticità sottolineato dai cambiamenti atmosferici: da un caldissimo clima estivo, sotto un sole che rende il paesaggio della campagna francese bollente, si passa ai temporali estivi violenti che scuotono animi e paesaggi, fino al fango delle piogge autunnali che ti schizza e sporca fino nel profondo. C’è una tensione profonda nel corso di tutto il libro che sfocia in modo tragico nelle ultime pagine, ma soprattutto c’è il tema ricorrente nelle opere di Simenon del delitto come forma di liberazione dagli incubi e le ossessioni che segnano le esistenze, nerissime, dei protagonisti , cosicchè, dopo aver commesso un crimine, finalmente l’autore tira un profondo sospiro di sollievo: il suo destino è segnato, doveva andare così per chi “voleva qualcosa di definitivo su cui non ritornare mai più”.
Un romanzo da cui è stato ispirato un film, L’evaso, con una bravissima Simone Signoret , un giovane Alain Delon e una giovanissima e sexy Ottavia Piccolo, che ho visto diversi anni fa, che ha saputo ricreare le atmosfere malate del libro.
Un romanzo da cui è stato ispirato un film, L’evaso, con una bravissima Simone Signoret , un giovane Alain Delon e una giovanissima e sexy Ottavia Piccolo, che ho visto diversi anni fa, che ha saputo ricreare le atmosfere malate del libro.
April 13, 2017
(3.5) It's fascinating how a situation in a book can strike home causing an overwhelming emotion, awakening the pain from thoughts and memories that lie hidden inside.
Behind the quirkiness and absurdity of the characters, this book was a slow, albeit interesting read as it traversed the path of Jean and Tati's symbiotic relationship, from its strange beginning to its explosive ending that I didn't see coming.
Simenon on NYRB rarely fails to fulfill its purpose; the human persona is unpredictable at times, but is indeed animal in nature.
Behind the quirkiness and absurdity of the characters, this book was a slow, albeit interesting read as it traversed the path of Jean and Tati's symbiotic relationship, from its strange beginning to its explosive ending that I didn't see coming.
Simenon on NYRB rarely fails to fulfill its purpose; the human persona is unpredictable at times, but is indeed animal in nature.
December 21, 2018
Apparently I read this before, but I don't recall doing so. For this reading, I appreciated the introduction by Paul Theroux. There were many elements of this novella that seemed to point toward possible redemption, but that would have been too easy for Simenon. He kept it dark for the young man freshly released from prison without any stereotyping. It was a complex building up of tension with some extremely neurotic characters.
I wanted to jump into another book, but this one is still churning, keeping my brain cells bouncing.
I wanted to jump into another book, but this one is still churning, keeping my brain cells bouncing.
September 21, 2021
Con la consueta scrittura scorrevole ed asciutta Simenon racconta una vicenda nata dal caso, l'incrocio di due vite (la vedova Couderc e Jean) che scatena una insana passione nella vedova.
Ambientato nella campagna francese, descrive le meschinità umane con un ritmo lento.
Non è tra i miei preferiti di Simenon.
Ambientato nella campagna francese, descrive le meschinità umane con un ritmo lento.
Non è tra i miei preferiti di Simenon.
October 1, 2017
Lettura che scorre lenta, come lento è il fluire delle acque del canale che lambisce la casa dove la veuve Couderc e Jean, separati da una distanza temporale di età importante condividono un breve destino, ognuno offrendo quello che all’altro manca: a Jean, l’evaso, un rifugio dal mondo che lo insegue alla veuve Couderc la tenerezza di una carezza di un uomo che le viene negata da troppi anni, ipnotizzante come sempre accade per i libri di Simenon, un esito crudo che non mi aspettavo.
Fu il primo ebook (mi avevano regalato l'ereader ma io non lo volevo...) che lessi nella mia vita (con tutto lo spaesamento, la perdita di riferimenti spaziali, il senso del tatto stupefatto nel sfiorare superfici dissimili in un movimento delle dita per me nuovo, la nostalgie per la perdita della concretezza e della sicurezza di un oggetto amato e conosciuto per anni tra le mani, e le aspettative per il ventaglio di opportunità che la nuova tecnologia mi offriva), lo ricorderò sempre soprattutto per questa nuova esperienza di lettura, ma anche per la visione del film, liberissimamente ispirato dal libro: L’evaso con un intenso Alain Delon, una matura ma magnifica espressiva Simone Signoret e una virginea Ottavia Piccolo.
Da quando scrissi questo commento sono passati alcuni anni e tanti ebook letti circa 115 dice il mio Kobo, il libro digitale è diventato il mio formato di lettura usuale, il libro di carta l’eccezione
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MkNph...
Fu il primo ebook (mi avevano regalato l'ereader ma io non lo volevo...) che lessi nella mia vita (con tutto lo spaesamento, la perdita di riferimenti spaziali, il senso del tatto stupefatto nel sfiorare superfici dissimili in un movimento delle dita per me nuovo, la nostalgie per la perdita della concretezza e della sicurezza di un oggetto amato e conosciuto per anni tra le mani, e le aspettative per il ventaglio di opportunità che la nuova tecnologia mi offriva), lo ricorderò sempre soprattutto per questa nuova esperienza di lettura, ma anche per la visione del film, liberissimamente ispirato dal libro: L’evaso con un intenso Alain Delon, una matura ma magnifica espressiva Simone Signoret e una virginea Ottavia Piccolo.
Da quando scrissi questo commento sono passati alcuni anni e tanti ebook letti circa 115 dice il mio Kobo, il libro digitale è diventato il mio formato di lettura usuale, il libro di carta l’eccezione
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MkNph...
April 1, 2017
Ο Σιμενόν πεζογράφος είναι ένας ιδιαίτερα οξυδερκής παρατηρητής της ανθρώπινης φύσης. Παρατηρεί, καταγράφει κι εξάγει συμπεράσματα βασιζόμενος στην εμπειρία, στις γνώσεις και τελικά στη φαντασία του. Θα μπορούσαμε να σκεφτούμε πως για δύο σημεία στο χαρτί τραβάμε μία γραμμή, ή μία καμπύλη. Αυτό είναι το ένα, οι ενώσεις του δεν είναι ποτέ ακριβώς ευθείες, ούτε όμως με περικοκλάδες. Αποφασιστικά, καθόλου δυσδιάκριτα αρπάζει το μαύρο μαρκαδόρο κι ενώνει τα σημεία. Άλλοι επιλέγουν διαφορετικά χρώματα, αυτό δε σημαίνει πως το μαύρο δεν αποτελεί μία συνηθισμένη παράσταση του πραγματικού κόσμου. Δεν υπάρχουν στο Σιμενόν περιβλήματα ούτε από μαύρο, ούτε από άλλα χρώματα.
Η ανυπόφορη ζήλια που ενίοτε οδηγεί στην ανημπόρια υποκείμενο και αντικείμενο και τελικά φτάνει σε μία έκρηξη.
Ύστερα είναι τα χρήματα βοηθοί ή εξουσιαστές.
Κι ύστερα όλες εκείνες οι αποχρώσεις του οικογενειακού συμφέροντος, ανεξάρτητα απ' τα άλλα συναισθήματα όπως τόσο όμορφα μας δείχνει άλλωστε και ο Μωπασάν στο Ζαν και Πιέρ. Αυτό το μένος, η αίσθηση του αδίκου, το αηδίασμα που περιλαμβάνει κάθε κουβέντα γύρω από τα κληρονομικά και κάνει τους ανθρώπους να ξεχνούν ό,τι τους ενώνει, να ανατρέπουν και να ανατρέπονται, να μολύνουν σαν ιοί την κάθε τους ανάμνηση. Κι έπειτα οι συνασπισμοί του κώλου για όλους αυτούς που ο νόμος ορίζει ως συγγενείς εξ αγχιστείας που συσπειρώνει τους υπανθρώπους στο κοινό τους αίμα, στη βασιλεία μιας εξ αίματος συγγένειας για να πονέσουν, να πιέσουν, να υφαρπάξουν επειδή αυτοί δικαιούνται κυρίως γιατί έτσι λέει κάθε μορφή εθιμικού δικαίου.
Ένα ακόμη στενόχωρο, φορτικό, ανθρώπινο μυθιστόρημα του Σιμενόν. Σταλάζει αργά την πίκρα του μέσα από σκηνές επανάληψης, πλήξης, καθημερινότητας. Κάποιοι διάλογοι οδηγούν σε ίδιες απαντήσεις, στον ίδιο τόνο και ύφος από διαφορετικούς ανθρώπους, αυτό δε μου άρεσε. Κι αν με στενοχώρησε το βιβλίο νομίζω άξιζε τον κόπο.
Η ανυπόφορη ζήλια που ενίοτε οδηγεί στην ανημπόρια υποκείμενο και αντικείμενο και τελικά φτάνει σε μία έκρηξη.
Ύστερα είναι τα χρήματα βοηθοί ή εξουσιαστές.
Κι ύστερα όλες εκείνες οι αποχρώσεις του οικογενειακού συμφέροντος, ανεξάρτητα απ' τα άλλα συναισθήματα όπως τόσο όμορφα μας δείχνει άλλωστε και ο Μωπασάν στο Ζαν και Πιέρ. Αυτό το μένος, η αίσθηση του αδίκου, το αηδίασμα που περιλαμβάνει κάθε κουβέντα γύρω από τα κληρονομικά και κάνει τους ανθρώπους να ξεχνούν ό,τι τους ενώνει, να ανατρέπουν και να ανατρέπονται, να μολύνουν σαν ιοί την κάθε τους ανάμνηση. Κι έπειτα οι συνασπισμοί του κώλου για όλους αυτούς που ο νόμος ορίζει ως συγγενείς εξ αγχιστείας που συσπειρώνει τους υπανθρώπους στο κοινό τους αίμα, στη βασιλεία μιας εξ αίματος συγγένειας για να πονέσουν, να πιέσουν, να υφαρπάξουν επειδή αυτοί δικαιούνται κυρίως γιατί έτσι λέει κάθε μορφή εθιμικού δικαίου.
Ένα ακόμη στενόχωρο, φορτικό, ανθρώπινο μυθιστόρημα του Σιμενόν. Σταλάζει αργά την πίκρα του μέσα από σκηνές επανάληψης, πλήξης, καθημερινότητας. Κάποιοι διάλογοι οδηγούν σε ίδιες απαντήσεις, στον ίδιο τόνο και ύφος από διαφορετικούς ανθρώπους, αυτό δε μου άρεσε. Κι αν με στενοχώρησε το βιβλίο νομίζω άξιζε τον κόπο.
July 26, 2017
Mixed review to follow.
December 23, 2008
Simenon wrote this the same time as the "estranger" (sp?) came out. Simenon is still rather obscure. he shouldn't be. this is a fantastic book with the usual mo, screwed up people meet, get along, sort of, get tangled up with the usual crap we humans heap on each others heads, then you snap and smash somebody in the head 8 times with a hammer. ahh, but in such an economical and detailed manner. emulate simenon and you could be a writer.
March 8, 2020
Tightly woven and atmospheric, this is a good representation of Simenon in non-Maigret mode.
The widow of the title is Tati, a canny, thrifty, middle-aged rural woman most interested in raising animals (rabbits and chickens) for sale and keeping a firm grasp on the property she's partially inherited from her late husband. She has the bad luck to run across an aimless recently released convict on the bus back from the local market and her world quickly falls apart as the stresses of her existing relations are tested by the strains of the new one.
Tati is a remarkable character, and worthy of a book, but Jean, the young man she picks up and takes home, is somewhat less so. Time spent in his head is not especially interesting and too much of the book is given over to him, leaving an emotional hole at the center. Still, this is a most interesting portrait of rural France and reminds me just a bit of Mauriac in the very dark picture it paints of family and the relations between the sexes.
The widow of the title is Tati, a canny, thrifty, middle-aged rural woman most interested in raising animals (rabbits and chickens) for sale and keeping a firm grasp on the property she's partially inherited from her late husband. She has the bad luck to run across an aimless recently released convict on the bus back from the local market and her world quickly falls apart as the stresses of her existing relations are tested by the strains of the new one.
Tati is a remarkable character, and worthy of a book, but Jean, the young man she picks up and takes home, is somewhat less so. Time spent in his head is not especially interesting and too much of the book is given over to him, leaving an emotional hole at the center. Still, this is a most interesting portrait of rural France and reminds me just a bit of Mauriac in the very dark picture it paints of family and the relations between the sexes.
January 13, 2022
Jean just served five years at Fontevrault, barely dodging the guillotine. He is hired as a farmhand by Tati, a gritty, blanc-trash widow. Pastoral France is not all rabbits and gooseberries. Jean gets sucked into the feud between Tati and the rouge-necks on the other side of the canal.
Jean gives no resistance to Tati's totalitarian grip. I don't have a Frenchman's appétit for ennui avec malaise. I waited half-a-book for Jean to snap out of it. By the time he does snap, I was blasé about it.
Jean gives no resistance to Tati's totalitarian grip. I don't have a Frenchman's appétit for ennui avec malaise. I waited half-a-book for Jean to snap out of it. By the time he does snap, I was blasé about it.
April 1, 2016
Not all of Georges Simenon's books were mysteries. In fact, about half of them weren't. The Widow is a good example of his romans durs, his "hard novels," hard because of the mercilessness of the world in which they are set.
Jean is the son of a rich father who has disowned him. At one point, he murders a fellow gambler and serves five years in prison for the crime. He takes up with a farm widow named Tati who is twenty years older than him and seems to be content with doing the farm chores and occasionally making love with his boss. But then, Tati becomes hill after she is hit in the head with a bottle by one of her relatives and, at the same time, becomes increasingly jealous of the teenaged redhead, her niece Felicie, who is an unwed mother.
What was something of a lark for Jean loses its charm for the young man, and he ends up reverting to type.
Jean is the son of a rich father who has disowned him. At one point, he murders a fellow gambler and serves five years in prison for the crime. He takes up with a farm widow named Tati who is twenty years older than him and seems to be content with doing the farm chores and occasionally making love with his boss. But then, Tati becomes hill after she is hit in the head with a bottle by one of her relatives and, at the same time, becomes increasingly jealous of the teenaged redhead, her niece Felicie, who is an unwed mother.
What was something of a lark for Jean loses its charm for the young man, and he ends up reverting to type.
January 23, 2015
One of the 'romans durs'. This is my first Simenon. It was quite good. An extra dimension, because tough publshed in 1942, the author (who wrote quickly) dated this May 1, 1940... 10 days before the Germans marched into France.
February 3, 2021
Il noir alla Simenon: tutti colpevoli, nessuno escluso.
February 3, 2025
Novela que fue publicada en 1942, durante la ocupación alemana, dato importante a tener en cuenta dado el ambiente que propone la narración: el de una visión desmitificadora del mundo rural, lejos de visiones pastorales, de existencias armonizadas con la naturaleza, viejos sabios que enseñan grandes lecciones de vida y en general la gran reserva espiritual de las verdaderas esencias frente al frenesí desangelado de la ciudades. Lo que propone Simenon en La vidua Coudrec es justo lo opuesto.
El relato se centra en la andadura de Jean, un joven del que no tardamos mucho en saber que ha salido de la cárcel. Ha pasado cinco años a la sombra y nada más salir ha partido sin rumbo y ha ido a parar a una región rural, no muy lejos de dónde él vivió la infancia. En el autobús ayuda a una mujer que tiene una granja en los alrededores. Es Tati, la viuda Coudrec, una señora de armas tomar, que no se achanta fácilmente, que lleva trabajando de sol a sol desde los catorce años y desde que enviudó lleva casi sola la granja y así se mantiene.
Simeon desentraña un mundo de pequeñas miserias. Las dispuestas por las propiedades resultan amargas porque las relaciones con la familia política de los Coudrec son complicadas. Se nos presenta a gente que se trata de forma displicente, con brusquedad, el ambiente descrito desde luego no hace pensar en ambientes tranquilos y apacibles. Iremos conociendo bastante acerca del crimen que condujo a Jean a la cárcel, crimen que ocurrió en París, y que él salió mejor parado de lo que debía en caso que se hubiera demostrado cada hecho que esa noche ocurrió. Este punto específico goza de gran peso dentro de la conciencia de Jean. Su temperamento se demuestra distante y apático, hace pensar vagamente en las novelas existencialistas, donde el personaje existe de forma desapasionada y no es plenamente consciente de todo lo que ocurre en su interior, por lo menos no de buenas a primeras, sin embargo, poco a poco, sale a flote su hastío vital.
El retrato es áspero, de un ambiente popular envilecido, y que a pesar de todo encaja dentro de una sociedad dónde el asesinato no resulta tan inaceptable. Es por eso que, como documento, esta novela tiene especial interés, resulta llamativo como caracteriza esa percepción en los años 40 y 30, como por ejemplo los guardas no tratan especialmente mal a Jean, recibiendo incluso un trato razonable y nos hace comprender qué diferencias existen entre el momento en el que se lee y cuando se publicó. Simenon además siempre ofrece esa gran virtud para caracterizar con acierto los ambientes dónde recrea sus historias, los personajes muchas veces resultan ambiguos, es raro leerle y que transmita la sensación que Simenon desea agradar a alguien a través de sus creaciones, por contra parece más interesado en explorar la mente humana en su variedad de experiencias y fijar de forma razonable el clima de su época.
Lo que me impulsó a decantarme por este título respecto a otros de Simenon fue que vi la adaptación que en 1971 Pierre Granier-Deferre filmó y que me causó muy buena impresión. Y la verdad es que, novela y adaptación, sólo se parecen en una cuarta parte. El arranque y los fundamentos si que son idénticos, luego las divergencias son cada vez más notorias, hasta que al final se parecen menos que un alambre y una codorniz. En ambas obras, eso sí, persiste ese peso en la trama del crimen pasado de Jean, si bien Simenon pone más el foco en el aspecto psicológico, adoptando incluso ciertos tintes a lo Dostoyevski, y al final la disputa por las propiedades en la novela cobra una importancia capital, sin contar que cierta aventura sensual entre Jean y Félicie, una joven madre que vive en la otra orilla del canal, es la otra pata sobre la que Simenon desarrolla la trama. Siempre resulta gratificante su lectura, eso sí, notas que alguien que ha leído, observado y vivido mucho vuelca su experiencia con los tonos más reconocibles de la existencia, en unas narraciones sabiamente cinceladas.
Como se puede notar, en general encontré sensaciones muy positivas, pero también me parece que en el último cuarto la trama se vuelve demasiado reiterativa, quizás me ha decepcionado un poco por estar condicionado por la película de Pierre Granier-Deferre, en todo caso la narración se apaga bastante y digamos que se cierra de forma eficaz, gracias al oficio de su autor, sin embargo es cierto que cuando se va conociendo a los personajes resulta más interesante que cuando ya ha mostrado sus cartas y juega con ellas.
El relato se centra en la andadura de Jean, un joven del que no tardamos mucho en saber que ha salido de la cárcel. Ha pasado cinco años a la sombra y nada más salir ha partido sin rumbo y ha ido a parar a una región rural, no muy lejos de dónde él vivió la infancia. En el autobús ayuda a una mujer que tiene una granja en los alrededores. Es Tati, la viuda Coudrec, una señora de armas tomar, que no se achanta fácilmente, que lleva trabajando de sol a sol desde los catorce años y desde que enviudó lleva casi sola la granja y así se mantiene.
Simeon desentraña un mundo de pequeñas miserias. Las dispuestas por las propiedades resultan amargas porque las relaciones con la familia política de los Coudrec son complicadas. Se nos presenta a gente que se trata de forma displicente, con brusquedad, el ambiente descrito desde luego no hace pensar en ambientes tranquilos y apacibles. Iremos conociendo bastante acerca del crimen que condujo a Jean a la cárcel, crimen que ocurrió en París, y que él salió mejor parado de lo que debía en caso que se hubiera demostrado cada hecho que esa noche ocurrió. Este punto específico goza de gran peso dentro de la conciencia de Jean. Su temperamento se demuestra distante y apático, hace pensar vagamente en las novelas existencialistas, donde el personaje existe de forma desapasionada y no es plenamente consciente de todo lo que ocurre en su interior, por lo menos no de buenas a primeras, sin embargo, poco a poco, sale a flote su hastío vital.
El retrato es áspero, de un ambiente popular envilecido, y que a pesar de todo encaja dentro de una sociedad dónde el asesinato no resulta tan inaceptable. Es por eso que, como documento, esta novela tiene especial interés, resulta llamativo como caracteriza esa percepción en los años 40 y 30, como por ejemplo los guardas no tratan especialmente mal a Jean, recibiendo incluso un trato razonable y nos hace comprender qué diferencias existen entre el momento en el que se lee y cuando se publicó. Simenon además siempre ofrece esa gran virtud para caracterizar con acierto los ambientes dónde recrea sus historias, los personajes muchas veces resultan ambiguos, es raro leerle y que transmita la sensación que Simenon desea agradar a alguien a través de sus creaciones, por contra parece más interesado en explorar la mente humana en su variedad de experiencias y fijar de forma razonable el clima de su época.
Lo que me impulsó a decantarme por este título respecto a otros de Simenon fue que vi la adaptación que en 1971 Pierre Granier-Deferre filmó y que me causó muy buena impresión. Y la verdad es que, novela y adaptación, sólo se parecen en una cuarta parte. El arranque y los fundamentos si que son idénticos, luego las divergencias son cada vez más notorias, hasta que al final se parecen menos que un alambre y una codorniz. En ambas obras, eso sí, persiste ese peso en la trama del crimen pasado de Jean, si bien Simenon pone más el foco en el aspecto psicológico, adoptando incluso ciertos tintes a lo Dostoyevski, y al final la disputa por las propiedades en la novela cobra una importancia capital, sin contar que cierta aventura sensual entre Jean y Félicie, una joven madre que vive en la otra orilla del canal, es la otra pata sobre la que Simenon desarrolla la trama. Siempre resulta gratificante su lectura, eso sí, notas que alguien que ha leído, observado y vivido mucho vuelca su experiencia con los tonos más reconocibles de la existencia, en unas narraciones sabiamente cinceladas.
Como se puede notar, en general encontré sensaciones muy positivas, pero también me parece que en el último cuarto la trama se vuelve demasiado reiterativa, quizás me ha decepcionado un poco por estar condicionado por la película de Pierre Granier-Deferre, en todo caso la narración se apaga bastante y digamos que se cierra de forma eficaz, gracias al oficio de su autor, sin embargo es cierto que cuando se va conociendo a los personajes resulta más interesante que cuando ya ha mostrado sus cartas y juega con ellas.
May 4, 2025
Novela de Georges Simenon donde no aparece Maigret y, por lo tanto, no es de género policiaco.
Es una novela extraña e inquietante, en la que un ex presidiario acaba en la granja de la viuda a la que el título de la novela hace referencia. La relación de la viuda con los parientes es turbia y se genera un ambiente tenso que acaba de una manera inesperada.
La verdad es que aún no sé si me ha gustado. Es una novela que genera malestar.
Es una novela extraña e inquietante, en la que un ex presidiario acaba en la granja de la viuda a la que el título de la novela hace referencia. La relación de la viuda con los parientes es turbia y se genera un ambiente tenso que acaba de una manera inesperada.
La verdad es que aún no sé si me ha gustado. Es una novela que genera malestar.
Read
February 12, 2017Yow! What a good book! More about it coming soon.
May 23, 2024
"La veuve Couderc" de Georges Simenon est un polar à l'envers. Le polar présente une enquête pour découvrir l'identité de l'auteur d'un meurtre et sa mobile. Dans "La veuve Couderc", on suit plutôt le parcours psychologique du meurtrier jusqu'au moment ou il craque et commet son geste
Au cœur du roman, il y un couple curieux. Le meurtrier est Jean, un jeune homme fraichement sorti du prison. Ses demi-sœurs essaient de lui voler son héritage. La victime est une veuve qui gère le propriétaire agricole de son défunt mari. Ses belles-sœurs essaient de lui voler sa part.
Les personnages sont tous assez abjects. . Jean est vraiment désolant. Il croit avoir découvert la recette pour tuer sans se faire trancher la tète mais il n'a aucune vertu. La veuve au moins possède les qualités de l'ambition et la persévérance. Aussi, elle a un peu de vision. Elle achète un couveuse électrique afin d'augmenter sa population de volaille.
J'ai très peu aimé ce roman, mais je dois avouer quand y voit le main d'un maitre.
Post-scriptum: Un dernier commentaire sur une discussion chez les anglophones provoqué par Paul Théroux qui dans l'introduction d'une traduction anglaise présente la thèse que Jean le protagoniste était le modèle pour Meursault de "L'étranger" de Camus. Bien des lecteurs anglophones ne voulaient pas accepter l'idée que le protagoniste d'un très grand chef-d'œuvre avait été basé sur le protagoniste d'un roman du grand public de la trempe de "La veuve Courdec". Le deuxième problème est que Meursault est la victime du hasard et des préjugés sociaux tandis que Jean est bel et bien un criminel habituel. Finalement, je trouve que la thèse de Théroux n'est pas sans mérite. Les grands auteurs puissent souvent à des places bien curieuses.
Au cœur du roman, il y un couple curieux. Le meurtrier est Jean, un jeune homme fraichement sorti du prison. Ses demi-sœurs essaient de lui voler son héritage. La victime est une veuve qui gère le propriétaire agricole de son défunt mari. Ses belles-sœurs essaient de lui voler sa part.
Les personnages sont tous assez abjects. . Jean est vraiment désolant. Il croit avoir découvert la recette pour tuer sans se faire trancher la tète mais il n'a aucune vertu. La veuve au moins possède les qualités de l'ambition et la persévérance. Aussi, elle a un peu de vision. Elle achète un couveuse électrique afin d'augmenter sa population de volaille.
J'ai très peu aimé ce roman, mais je dois avouer quand y voit le main d'un maitre.
Post-scriptum: Un dernier commentaire sur une discussion chez les anglophones provoqué par Paul Théroux qui dans l'introduction d'une traduction anglaise présente la thèse que Jean le protagoniste était le modèle pour Meursault de "L'étranger" de Camus. Bien des lecteurs anglophones ne voulaient pas accepter l'idée que le protagoniste d'un très grand chef-d'œuvre avait été basé sur le protagoniste d'un roman du grand public de la trempe de "La veuve Courdec". Le deuxième problème est que Meursault est la victime du hasard et des préjugés sociaux tandis que Jean est bel et bien un criminel habituel. Finalement, je trouve que la thèse de Théroux n'est pas sans mérite. Les grands auteurs puissent souvent à des places bien curieuses.
January 5, 2022
Sim è il cantore dello squallore, dei sentimenti più putridi, degli atteggiamenti più meschini, dei caratteri più derelitti. I suoi romanzi sembrano sedute psicanalitiche e al tempo stesso scuole di scrittura.
Non si prova la minima simpatia per nessuno dei personaggi ma si resta avvinti alla pagina fino alla conclusione (e non si tifa neanche per una conclusione “migliore”, perché, insomma, in fin dei conti, Sim descrive la realtà non la crea, e quindi si sa, con ineluttabile precisione che no, la vedova non poteva dire una cosa diversa, che le sorelle, che Felicie, che il vagabondo …. Insomma, che tutto sarebbe finito come è finito).
Vien da chiedersi che fine avrebbe fatto Sim, il serial killer predatore sessuale?, se non avesse capito subito che la scrittura era la sua unica valvola di sfogo (in realtà non l’unica, visto che oltre a scrivere metodicamente tutti i giorni, altrettanto metodicamente e meticolosamente pianificava la sua attività sessuale, privilegiando la varietà).
Non si prova la minima simpatia per nessuno dei personaggi ma si resta avvinti alla pagina fino alla conclusione (e non si tifa neanche per una conclusione “migliore”, perché, insomma, in fin dei conti, Sim descrive la realtà non la crea, e quindi si sa, con ineluttabile precisione che no, la vedova non poteva dire una cosa diversa, che le sorelle, che Felicie, che il vagabondo …. Insomma, che tutto sarebbe finito come è finito).
Vien da chiedersi che fine avrebbe fatto Sim, il serial killer predatore sessuale?, se non avesse capito subito che la scrittura era la sua unica valvola di sfogo (in realtà non l’unica, visto che oltre a scrivere metodicamente tutti i giorni, altrettanto metodicamente e meticolosamente pianificava la sua attività sessuale, privilegiando la varietà).
December 13, 2024
A very engaging dark, depressing, concisely and vividly written, character based novella about two characters who meet by chance on a bus in rural France. Jean is an odd, quiet man, out of prison after serving five years. Jean meets Tati. Tati is a tough, work worn widow, aged 45, with a son in prison, who runs her late husband’s farm, caring for her old father-in-law. Jean becomes Tati’s lodger and farm worker. They become lovers. Meanwhile, her husband’s two sisters want a share of the farm, bringing pressure upon Tati is stop caring for their father and sell the farm.
Tensions build as events unfold to reach a climax. Another very good Georges Simenon novella.
This book was first published in 1942.
Tensions build as events unfold to reach a climax. Another very good Georges Simenon novella.
This book was first published in 1942.
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August 21, 2022A murderer takes up with a hard-bitten widow with a large house. Horror ensues, though never quite in the fashion one suspects. As usual, Simenon’s little noirs are masterclasses in sketching characters and developing tension—this one was really strong even by the standards, however.
July 25, 2016
Back in April 2015 I read Simenon’s Three Bedrooms in Manhattan, a fictionalised account of the author’s impassioned love affair with Denise Ouimet, a woman he met in Manhattan in 1945. Even though Three Bedrooms was somewhat atypical of Simenon’s work, it gave me a taste for his romans durs (or ‘hard’ psychological novels). With that in mind, I’ve been looking forward to trying another ever since.
First published in 1942, The Widow is one of the few books by Simenon to feature a strong woman at the heart of its narrative. The woman in question is Tati Couderc, a forty-five-year-old widowed peasant who runs a farm close to St. Amand in the Bourbonnais region of France. Having outlived her husband, she now shares the farmhouse with her father-in-law and owner of the farm, old Couderc. Tati is unattractive, unkempt and somewhat rough around the edges, but she is also sharp and as tough as old boots.
As the novel opens, Tati is taking the bus home from market when a young drifter, Jean, boards the vehicle. Unlike the other passengers on the bus, Tati sees something different in Jean, something the others simply do not notice. She sees that he has nothing on him, no ties and no obvious direction either. It’s as if she figures him out in an instant.
…but all the same she did not take her eyes off him, and she took note of everything—his stubbly cheeks, his pale unseeing eyes, his gray suit, worn yet having a touch of ease about it, his thin shoes. A man who could walk noiselessly and spring like a cat. And who, after the seven francs fifty he had given to the driver in exchange for a blue ticket, probably had no money left in his pockets. […]
Widow Couderc too hugged a secret smile. The man blinked slightly. It was rather as if, in the midst of all these old women with their nodding heads, the two had recognized each other. (pgs. 6-7, NYRB Classics)
When Tati gets off the bus laden with packages, Jean follows shortly afterwards and gives her a hand carrying everything back to the farm. Keen to take possession of this young man, Tati offers him some work on the farm – in any case she needs a hand running the place as her father-in-law is old, deaf and a little senile. When Jean reveals that he has just been released from prison for the murder of a man, Tati does not seem in the least surprised – ‘It was as if she had guessed it already.’ With nothing else on the horizon, Jean falls in with the plan and promptly beds down in the loft.
Her eyes were eating him up. She was taking possession of him. She wasn’t afraid. She wanted him to understand that she wasn’t afraid of him. (pgs. 14-15)
And always that little glance in which he could read satisfaction, even a kind of promise, but a slight reservation as well. She was not distrustful. Only, she still needed to watch him for a time. (pg. 23)
A few days later Jean and Tati end up in bed together. Even so, there is no real passion or romance here – it’s all much more functional than that. And while Tati is happy to have sex with Jean, she must also service old Couderc’s sexual needs every now and again just to keep him sweet.
To read the rest of my review, please click here:
https://jacquiwine.wordpress.com/2016...
First published in 1942, The Widow is one of the few books by Simenon to feature a strong woman at the heart of its narrative. The woman in question is Tati Couderc, a forty-five-year-old widowed peasant who runs a farm close to St. Amand in the Bourbonnais region of France. Having outlived her husband, she now shares the farmhouse with her father-in-law and owner of the farm, old Couderc. Tati is unattractive, unkempt and somewhat rough around the edges, but she is also sharp and as tough as old boots.
As the novel opens, Tati is taking the bus home from market when a young drifter, Jean, boards the vehicle. Unlike the other passengers on the bus, Tati sees something different in Jean, something the others simply do not notice. She sees that he has nothing on him, no ties and no obvious direction either. It’s as if she figures him out in an instant.
…but all the same she did not take her eyes off him, and she took note of everything—his stubbly cheeks, his pale unseeing eyes, his gray suit, worn yet having a touch of ease about it, his thin shoes. A man who could walk noiselessly and spring like a cat. And who, after the seven francs fifty he had given to the driver in exchange for a blue ticket, probably had no money left in his pockets. […]
Widow Couderc too hugged a secret smile. The man blinked slightly. It was rather as if, in the midst of all these old women with their nodding heads, the two had recognized each other. (pgs. 6-7, NYRB Classics)
When Tati gets off the bus laden with packages, Jean follows shortly afterwards and gives her a hand carrying everything back to the farm. Keen to take possession of this young man, Tati offers him some work on the farm – in any case she needs a hand running the place as her father-in-law is old, deaf and a little senile. When Jean reveals that he has just been released from prison for the murder of a man, Tati does not seem in the least surprised – ‘It was as if she had guessed it already.’ With nothing else on the horizon, Jean falls in with the plan and promptly beds down in the loft.
Her eyes were eating him up. She was taking possession of him. She wasn’t afraid. She wanted him to understand that she wasn’t afraid of him. (pgs. 14-15)
And always that little glance in which he could read satisfaction, even a kind of promise, but a slight reservation as well. She was not distrustful. Only, she still needed to watch him for a time. (pg. 23)
A few days later Jean and Tati end up in bed together. Even so, there is no real passion or romance here – it’s all much more functional than that. And while Tati is happy to have sex with Jean, she must also service old Couderc’s sexual needs every now and again just to keep him sweet.
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December 27, 2021
Not at all what I expected, based on the cover art, which seemingly was chosen to solicit readers and not to match the narrative. So I got pulled in by another great NYRB cover and was given a not so bad tale of sordid lives lived in the much the same manner. Quite the character sketch, this one, maybe a kind of rural noir, if that makes any sense. Probably not. Quite the weird relationship between Tati and Jean, one that had oodles of foreshadowing attached to every scene, every look, every piece of dialogue. I enjoyed the background vignettes for jean and Tati, as they added fuel to the fire but also explained the actions taken, as irrational as many of them would have otherwise been. I thought Tati the more intriguing, while Jean came across as quite immature and passive, though his selfish, violent nature was never in doubt. I found Simenon's writing clear, concise, and unadorned. Direct, with smart dialogue and authentic-seeming farm details. Not as unseemly or visceral as I had hoped, but a decent enough tale of human affairs gone awry.
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