Villa Triste

by Patrick Modiano, Gallimard Folio edition

Quand ils passaient la nuit à la Villa triste, Yvonne et Victor s'efforçaient de ne pas remuer du tout. Mais on sent bien que la sérénité n'était qu'un leurre. Des années après, le narrateur retourne dans la ville d'eaux et invoque, par intermittence, le souvenir nostalgique et lucide de sa relation avec Yvonne, des gens qui gravitaient autour d'eux, des extravagances de Meinthe, fantôme qui nous guide dans les rues aujourd'hui endormies... Mais ce qui ressurgit avant tout, c'est l'angoisse inexplicable de Victor, qu'il avait espéré apaiser en séjournant dans cette station thermale reculée, à proximité de la Suisse.

Modiano s'appuie sur une langue fluide parsemée de petites formules moqueuses pour donner un tour grave et, malgré tout, léger à son roman. Grâce à cet équilibre habile, il esquisse les contours d'un homme en quête de repères pour supporter sa mémoire, tout comme il était, jeune, en quête d'immobilité et de racines. Et si les estivants de l'époque, ridicules et artificiels, ne sont pas tout à fait détestables, peut-être est-ce parce que le mystère qui plane donne un caractère intangible à cet été lointain. --Sana Tang-Léopold Wauters

Genres: Fiction, France, Literature, Novels, French Literature, Nobel Prize, 20th Century

211 pages, Pocket Book

First published September 4, 1975

About the author

Patrick Modiano is a French-language author and playwright and winner of the 2014 Nobel Prize in Literature.

He is a winner of the 1972 Grand prix du roman de l'Académie française, and the 1978 Prix Goncourt for his novel "Rue des boutiques obscures".

Modiano's parents met in occupied Paris during World War II and began a clandestine relationship. Modiano's childhood took place in a unique atmosphere: with an absent father -- of which he heard troubled stories of dealings with the Vichy regime -- and a Flemish-actress mother who frequently toured. His younger brother's sudden death also greatly influenced his writings.

While he was at Henri-IV lycee, he took geometry lessons from writer Raymond Queneau, who was a friend of Modiano's mother. He entered the Sorbonne, but did not complete his studies.

Queneau, the author of "Zazie dans le métro", introduced Modiano to the literary world via a cocktail party given by publishing house Éditions Gallimard. Modiano published his first novel, "La Place de l’Étoile", with Gallimard in 1968, after having read the manuscript to Raymond Queneau. Starting that year, he did nothing but write.

On September 12, 1970, Modiano married Dominique Zerhfuss. "I have a catastrophic souvenir of the day of our marriage. It rained. A real nightmare. Our groomsmen were Queneau, who had mentored Patrick since his adolescence, and Malraux, a friend of my father. They started to argue about Dubuffet, and it was like we were watching a tennis match! That said, it would have been funny to have some photos, but the only person who had a camera forgot to bring a roll of film. There is only one photo remaining of us, from behind and under an umbrella!" (Interview with Elle, 6 October 2003). From their marriage came two girls, Zina (1974) and Marie (1978).

Modiano has mentioned on Oct 9, 2014, during an interview with La Grande Librairie, that one of the books which had a great impact on his writing life was 'Le cœur est un chasseur solitaire' (The Heart is a Lonely Hunter), the first novel published by Carson McCullers in 1940.

(Arabic: باتريك موديانو)

Reviews

[Trish · Rating 5 out of 5]

Modiano has a melancholic bent whose sentences vibrate (“like a spider’s web”) with a kind of menace. We are never really sure who deserves the most scrutiny amongst his characters, but everyone in this novel seems to be hiding some dark past or grim present. Even the dog, a Great Dane, was “congenitally afflicted with sadness and the ennui of life.” In Modiano's lavish description of the locale, a fashionable small French resort across a lake from Switzerland, even the trees are a mystery:

"The vegetation here is thoroughly mixed, it’s hard to tell if you’re in the Alps, on the shores of the Mediterranean, or somewhere in the tropics. Umbrella pines. Mimosas. Fir trees. Palms. If you take the boulevard up the hillside, you discover the panorama: the entire lake, the Aravis mountains, and across the water, the elusive country known as Switzerland."

Why “elusive”? We never learn why. “I didn’t yet know that Switzerland doesn’t exist.” Perhaps it is the notion of safety that doesn’t exist. A nineteen-year-old is not expected to know that, not then, not now. Modiano liberally salts his work with phrases that fill us with an unnameable dread. Count Victor is no more Count than you or I, but somehow we’d rather believe that than whatever it is he is running from. He is the son of Russian Jews, and the Second World War is over at least fifteen years. He is wealthy beyond imagining, but he has fear: he’s “scared to death” he tells us early on as he recounts the time he met Yvonne and Meinthe.

”When I think of her today, that’s the image that comes back to me most often. Her smile and her red hair. The black-and-white dog beside her. The beige Dodge. And Meinthe, barely visible behind the windshield. And the switched-on headlights. And the rays of the sun.”

Modiano writes like a painter paints. He weaves sound and scent along with color and emotion, light and dark.

”We returned through a part of the garden I wasn’t familiar with. The gravel paths were rectilinear, the lawns symmetrical and laid out in picturesque English style. Around each of them were flamboyant beds of begonias or geraniums. And here as well, there was the soft, reassuring whisper of the sprinklers. I thought about the Tuileries of my childhood. Meinthe proposed that we have a drink…

In the end, the three of them, The Count, Yvonne, and Meinthe make quite a hit in that town at that time. Photographs show them glamorous and solemn, walking arm-in-arm beside the dog, Meinthe taking up the rear. Meinthe and Yvonne win the coveted Houligant Cup for that year and are sought-after companions for their edgy stylishness. Gradually Meinthe and Yvonne share pieces of their shadowy background with Victor, and the glamour, he realizes, is all rhinestones and rust.

“The rooms in 'palaces' fool you at first, but pretty soon their dreary walls and furniture begin to exude the same sadness as the accommodations in shady hotels. Insipid luxury; sickly sweet smell in the corridors, which I can’t identify but must be the very odor of anxiety, of instability, of exile, of phoniness.”

When “France suddenly seemed to [Victor] too narrow a territory,” he proposed they ditch the local act and take to the road, somewhere where they could show their true capabilities…America.

Later, when it is all over, we think that perhaps Victor’s fear stems from his youth, his aloneness, his uncertainty. He grew up that summer by the lake, and saw most of what there was to see. Later, when he ambles under the arcades on the Rue de Castiglione reading a newspaper, his education comes full circle, and the mystery begins again.

Promotional copy for Villa Triste, due out today in a new translation by John Cullen and published by Other Press, calls it Modiano’s most accessible novel. It may well be, but all Modiano’s great themes are present. This fine translation does justice to the underlying greatness of the work. A fine piece of literature that can keep you mulling events over in your head for a long time to come.

[Ismini · Rating 1 out of 5]

1/10

Υπόθεση: Νέος ζει καλοκαιρινό έρωτα με νέα σε μία γαλλική λουτρόπολη.

Στο οπισθόφυλλο διάβαζα για περίεργους ανθρώπους και μυστήριο, στο εξώφυλλο πως ο συγγραφές έχει τιμηθεί με βραβείο Νόμπελ. Το πήρα στα χέρια μου έχοντας τις ανάλογες προσδοκίες. Η πλήρης απογοήτευση.

Ο Μοντιανό προσπαθεί σε αυτό το βιβλίο να πει ωραία το τίποτα. Είναι ένα μυθιστόρημα που δεν μιλάει για τίποτα. Δεν πειράζει που δεν έχει βάθος, το πρόβλημα είναι ότι δεν έχει καν επιφάνεια. Ένα από τα χειρότερα βιβλία που διάβασα ποτέ μου. Πάρα πάρα πολύ βαρετό, αν και μικρό ήταν ανυπόφορο.

[TBV (on hiatus) · Rating 4 out of 5]

"A Chinese lantern cast complicated shadows, making patterns like lace or tracery, and it was as though Yvonne’s and Meinthe’s faces were suddenly covered with veils."

A young man walks down streets where everything has changed. He spots an old acquaintance, Meinthe, and memories come flooding back. Memories of twelve years previously when Meinthe and Yvonne had appeared in his life, a time when an insecure eighteen-year-old youth had lived as if he were dreaming. Now twelve years older he remembers.

But what exactly does he remember, because it was all so fleeting, and upon reflection seems a mere chimera. Who was Meinthe really, who was Yvonne? Despite a passionate relationship with Yvonne ("…in her indefinable accent, which I thought might be Hungarian, English or Savoyard") the young man never really got a grip on who they were. But then, was he forthcoming about himself? Was this stateless young man who longed for a place where he could belong really Count Victor Chmara? What was he doing at that lakeside resort, and why? Who were the mysterious people in Meinthe's life - the baron who died mysteriously, the disembodied voice on the phone who announced himself as Kustiker? Why was the Villa Triste called triste (sad) in the first place? "Upon crossing the villa’s threshold, you were pervaded by a limpid melancholy." Melancholy and wistfulness pervade the book, and even Yvonne's Great Dane dog belongs to a rare species of melancholic dogs. And instead of reassuringly chiming at the appropriate times, the clock has a life of its own and crazily chimes whether it should or not.

And just as suddenly as they appear, they all disappear until now...

###
This was my first encounter with Patrick Modiano's work, and I certainly hope it won't be my last. I'm blown away!

###
"If there still existed some nice, reassuring idiots who wore white outfits and whacked balls over a net, then that meant the world was continuing to turn and we had a few hours’ respite."

"All my efforts to pass unnoticed and hide in a safe place had been reduced to futility in a few seconds."

"And I was dreaming. I therefore avoided making overly abrupt movements and asking overly precise questions so that I wouldn’t have to wake up."

"He was floating. Everything around us was floating."

"I’ve never again known moments so full and so slow as those. Opium, it’s said, can provide them. I doubt it."

[Paul · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had mixed feelings about this short novel, perhaps reflected in the time it took me to read it. Parts of it read beautifully, showcasing the author's skill at evoking the melancholy of vanished times and places. It begins with the narrator's arrival in a small town that he hasn't visited in 15 years and the jaded descriptions of faded hotels are superb. Similarly, the ending summons all the pain of early romantic disappointment. It was some of the content in between that I found less engaging.

The novel is set in a small resort town in France, close to the Swiss border, in the early 1960s. It's built around the relationship between three characters (a fairly common scenario - 'Contre Jour', 'The Loser', to name but two novels I've read in the last year), 27-year-old "Dr" Meinthe, 22-year-old would-be actress Yvonne and the narrator, the self-styled "Count Chmara", a Modiano isotype, now in his mid-30s but 18 at the time of events. Meinthe and Yvonne are old friends from the town (their relationship is platonic since the former is gay), while the narrator is a newcomer who falls under the spell of the slightly older woman and soon becomes her lover. I don't think I give anything away in writing that Chmara is destined to heartache. Much is enigmatic (as so often in Modiano) - the nature of the doctor's business in Geneva, Yvonne's background and ambitions, the reason for the narrator's clandestine arrival in the town, the mysterious Henri Kustiker who is only ever a voice passing on messages over the phone...

What I enjoyed less were the descriptions of events attended by the town's facile socialites. I really couldn't be bothered with them. The lightness (not in a good way) of these scenes put me in mind of the work of Modiano's mentor, Raymond Queneau. I loved 'Zazie in the Metro' and 'Exercises in Style' but these parts of 'Villa Triste' reminded me of 'The Sunday of Life', a work that struck me as trivial.

I found the book a little problematic. Was not the portrayal of Meinthe, "Queen Astrid", rather homophobic or, at best, a stereotype? It felt that way. Perhaps it was a sign of the times (the mid-'70s). The US translator chose to render some of the speech/thoughts in American demotic. I found this intrusive and inappropriate. Also, one of the main attractions of spending time in Modiagna are the descriptions of Paris. As noted, 'Villa Triste' is set elsewhere. I wondered if this early work was written before Modiano had truly got into his writing stride (I haven't read enough of his numerous works to make a valid judgement). Nevertheless, as an invocation of an older man's nostalgia for his lost youth, the novel works very well. The sound of waves in a pool of water...

[SARAH · Rating 2 out of 5]

وقتی داشتم داستان رو میخوندم،میدانستم رابطه راوی و ایون رها میشه،مثل همه اثار مودیانو،با شخصیت ها همراه میشی بدون اینکه ذره ای شانس شناختن اونها رو داشته باشی،نه از اون جهت که مثل شخصیتهایی رمان های داستایفسکی ،کارهای عجیب میکنن و غیر قابل پیش بینی ان،چون ثبات ندارند،نه چون اصلا نمی شناسی شون،چیزی نمیدانی ازشون.غم انگیز درست مثل رابطه ایون و راوی با حرکت قطار تمام شد......وحشتناک بود،بطرز غیر قابل توصیفی غم انگیز بود و.دلگیر...."هیچ چیز پشت سرم جا نمیگذاشتم،چرا که هیچ کجا دلبستگی نداشتم.....طبق پدیده ی توالی یا تغییر وضع روحی،یک رویا همیشه رویای دیگری را با.خود میآورد..."من حس میکنم میان رویاهایم میلغزم،مدام پرسه میزنم در رویا.......چه رقت انگیز

[Speranza · Rating 2 out of 5]

Deliciously dark, decadent and detached, yet desperately dull.

[Solistas · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Υπάρχουν μυστηριώδη πλάσματα -τα ίδια πάντοτε- που στέκονται φρουροί σε κάθε σταυροδρόμι της ζωής μας"

Ένα τέτοιο σταυροδρόμι προσπαθεί να θυμηθεί ο αφηγητής καθώς περπατάει σε μια λουτρόπολη της Γαλλίας, κοντά στα ελβετικά σύνορα, κ θυμάται έναν μεγάλο έρωτα που έζησε στις αρχές των 60s (από όσα αναφέρει φαίνεται ότι πρόκειται για το 1962). Είναι το πιο παλιό του βιβλίο από όσα έχω διαβάσει κ το καλύτερο μετά τις Κυριακές του Αυγούστου που είναι με διαφορά το αγαπημένο μου απ'τα τέσσερα που έχω διαβάσει μέχρι στιγμής.

Όπως κ στα υπόλοιπα, ο Modiano γράφει κομψά κ λεπτεπίλεπτα με κύριο θέμα τον αγώνα των ανθρώπων να διατηρήσουν τις αναμνήσεις τους όσο πιο καθαρές γίνεται. Η μοναδική ίσως διαφορά απ'τις υπόλοιπες κ παρόμοιες προσπάθειες του είναι ότι εδώ δεν προσπαθεί μόνο να θυμηθεί το παρελθόν του αλλά κ να φανταστεί όσα δεν ρώτησε τότε ή δεν κατάφερει να μάθει αργότερα. Ερωτευμένος με την πανέμορφη Υβόννη κ παρέα με τον gay φίλο της, τον γιατρό Ρενέ Μεντ περιφέρονται στα ακριβά μαγαζιά της πόλης, κοιμούνται σε χλιδάτα ξενοδοχεία, συμμετέχουν σε ανούσιους διαγωνισμούς κομψότητας (που κερδίζει φυσικά η Υβόννη) κ κυλιούνται -στην κυριολεξία- στα πατώματα της βίλας του Μεντ (ο οποίος την έχει ονομάσει Βίλα Θλίψη,όπως θα έπρεπε να είναι κ ο τίτλος του βιβλίου. Αυτές είναι κ οι καλύτερες σελίδες που θα βρείτε εδώ).

Ο συγγραφέας δεν στηρίζεται στην πλοκή, ούτε καν στην ανάπτυξη των χαρακτήρων, κυρίως γιατί δεν μπορεί κανείς να είναι σίγουρος αν θυμάται καλά τους ανθρώπους που έπαιξαν κάποιο ρόλο στο παρελθόν του. Ο τόπος της ιστορίας είναι ο κύριος πρωταγωνιστής (με ότι αυτό σημαίνει,τα σπίτια,τα πάρκα,τα αυτοκίνητα,τις ταπετσαρίες κτλ.) κ η γραφή του Modiano η κύρια γοητεία του βιβλίου.

"Ένα από τα παράθυρα ήταν μισάνοιχτο και άκουγα το θρόισμα απ'τα φυλλώματα κάποιου δέντρου που χάιδευαν το τζάμι. Η σκιά τους σκέπαζε τη βιβλιοθήκη σαν ένα κιγκλίδωμα φιταγμένο από τη νύχτα κ το φεγγάρι".

Πίσω από ένα τέτοιο τζάμι, θολό ή γεμάτο σκιές από παλιές εικόνες, γράφεται ολόκληρο το βιβλίο. Απ'την μέχρι τώρα εμπειρία μου, είναι το πιο ευκολοδιάβαστο βιβλίο του κ αυτό που θα πρότεινα σε κάποιον που θέλει να δοκιμάσει τον Modiano κ τον τρόπο που γράφει.

"Επιπλέαμε. Οι κινήσεις μας ήταν πολύ αργές κι όταν μετακινιόμασταν, αυτό γινόταν χωρίς βιασύνη. Έρποντας. Μια απότομη κίνηση θα είχε καταστρέψει τη γοητεία. Μιλούσαμε χαμηλόφωνα [...] Ένας ποδηλάτης περνούσε κι άκουγα το τρίξιμο του ποδηλάτου για λίγα λεπτά. Κι εκείνος άλλωστε προχωρούσε αργά αργά. Επέπλεε. Όλα επιπλέανε γύρω μας. Ούτε καν ανάβαμε το φως όταν έπεφτε η νύχτα [...] Να μη βγούμε ποτέ απ'αυτή τη βίλα. Να μην εγκαταλείψουμε αυτό το δωμάτιο. Να μείνουμε ξαπλωμένοι στον καναπέ ή καταγής, όπως κάναμε όλο και πιο συχνά. Ένιωθα κατάπληξη να ανακαλύπτω στην Υβόννη τέτοια ικανότητα για αυτοεγκατάλειψη. Για μένα αυτό είχε σχέση με την απέχθεια που αισθανόμουν για την κίνηση, με την ανησυχία που μου προκαλούσε οτιδήποτε κοθνιέται,περνάει κ αλλάζει [...] Γι'αυτή όμως; Νομίζω πως πολύ απλά ήταν τεμπέλα. Σαν φύκι".

[Huy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Cuốn tiểu thuyết thứ 6 của Modiano tôi đọc trong năm 2020, không còn nghi ngờ gì nữa, với tôi ông chính là nhà văn của năm nay. Các cuốn sách của Patrick Modiano đều gần như không có cốt truyện, hoặc nếu có, thì ta có thể tóm tắt tất cả chúng với cùng một câu văn: kể về những con người lang thang vô định trong những con phố Paris buồn bã sau chiến tranh, không rõ đâu là nơi thuộc về.
Villa Triste kể về Victor Chmara mà đến tận cuối cùng ta vẫn không thể biết rõ về nhân dạng thật của anh, hay điều anh đang trốn chạy, mà tất cả cuốn sách chỉ là những ký ức mùa hè vô tư lự của anh cùng Yvonne và René Meinthe. Mà trong cái mùa hè đó, anh đã cùng họ phiêu lưu qua những ngõ ngách của Paris và cả tâm hồn nhau nữa, và lúc đó anh cũng đã có tình yêu.
Và cũng như bao cuốn sách khác của Patrick Modiano, ta lại cảm thấy sầu não bởi những điều đã mãi tuột khỏi tay, những ký ức làm ấm áp trái tim ta đồng thời cũng xé nát nó, mà tất cả tất cả đều để lại trong ta một dư vị vừa ngọt ngào vừa cay đắng, mà mỗi con đường góc phố đều khơi lại kỷ niệm và dư vị về một điều gì đó, ta cũng chẳng rõ nữa, phải chăng đó là tình yêu?

[Meltem Sağlam · Rating 3 out of 5]

Güzel bir pastoral anlatım ile başlayan bu roman, ilk başlarda bana Hermann Hesse’i hatırlattı.

Yine bir hatırlama romanı olmasına rağmen, diğer Modiano romanlarından biraz farklı başladı ve gelişti. Ancak yine cevaplanmamış sorularla tamamlandı roman. Aynen diğer romanlarda olduğu gibi gizem ve merak unsuru romanın sonuna kadar devam ettiyse de, onlar kadar heyecan vermediğini söyleyebilirim.

[Eylül Görmüş · Rating 2 out of 5]

Her Patrick Modiano romanı için söylediğim şeyleri üç aşağı beş yukarı yine yineleyeceğim maalesef, kendisine 2014'te verilen Nobel Edebiyat Ödülü'nü anlamakta çok güçlük çektiğimi söyleyerek başlayayım.

Hep aynı şey oluyor; müthiş bir atmosfer yaratma kabiliyeti var Modiano'nun. Tüm kitaplarını okurken aynı şeyi yaşıyorum; kendimi elime telefonu alıp bahsettiği sokakların isimlerini goooglelarken, onların neye benzediklerini, kafamda canlandırdığım gibi olup olmadıklarını anlamaya çalışırken buluyorum kendimi, zira tüm detaylarıyla gözümün önünde belirmiş oluyorlar. Bu sahiden büyük maharet. Ama gelin görün ki bundan ötesini bulamıyorum bir türlü.

Hüzünlü Ev, Modiano'nun erken dönem romanlarından biri. Yine geçmişteki bir hikayeyi anımsayan bir anlatıcımız var, bu defa Fransa-Cezayir Savaşı sırasındaki bir öykü geri dönülen; biz de kitap boyunca bu gizemli, maceralı, temposu yüksek öyküyü hatırlayan anlatıcıya eşlik ediyoruz. Ve yine, yine, yine hiçbir şey olmuyor. Anlatıcımız büyük laflar ediyor: "o geceyi unutamıyorum", "o bakışı gözümün önünde", "o odadaki o anda her şey sonsuza dek değişti" - biz de sanıyoruz ki örülen tüm bu gizem, bize işaret edilen tüm bu kritik anlar bir yere bağlanacak, vay be diyeceğiz kitabın sonunda, çözeceğiz hikayeyi. Yok. Hiçbir şey olmuyor. O kadın niye gitti, o adam niye öldü, mesele neydi filan... Bunları bir yere bağlamıyor Modiano, okuruna bir açıklama yapma gereği duymuyor. Hep dediğimi diyeyim: sonunda açıklayıp parçaları birleştirmediğiniz müddetçe gizem inşa etmekten kolay bir şey yok.

Karanlık Dükkanlar Sokağı ve En Uzağından Unutuşun kitaplarında da benzer bir durum olsa da en azından belleğe, kimliğe, hafızaya dair çok daha derinlikli pasajlar vardı, bunda o da yok, en son okuduğum Bir Gençlik'inde de bulamamıştım. Ezcümle yine olmadı. Vallahi anlamıyorum ben bu Modiano'ya gösterilen teveccühü. Okuması keyif veren ama ziyadesiyle havada kalan kitaplar yazıyor bence. Her zamanki gibi bir yarım kalmışlık duygusuyla bitirdim bu eserini de. Maalesef böyle.

[Jim · Rating 5 out of 5]

Patrick Modiano's Villa Triste is another excellent novel by the Italian/Flemish/French author with the checkered past. In fact, the novel is about checkered pasts: All three main characters -- Count Victor Chmara, Yvonne Jacquet, and René Meinthe -- are insubstantial, almost shadowy, as a result of their lives being taken up in various types of pretense. All have attempted to hide away their pasts, even though two of them continue to live in the Haute Savoie town in which they were born.

In fact, the only really authentic, grounded person in the story is Yvonne's Uncle Roland, who runs a garage for repairing American cars -- a business he had started with Yvonne's late father.

This type of authenticity of character is a theme for Modiano, whose own father was a bit of a charlatan and whose mother was so awful that her own dog committed suicide by leaping off a balcony. (Read Modiano's autobiographical Pedigree.)

There is something haunting about all of Modiano's works that I have read. It is as if they were people by Pinocchios who wishes that they could be real boys.

[Zuberino · Rating 4 out of 5]

Summer of 1962. A small French resort on the shores of a lake, not far from the Swiss border. A quiet little place, forgotten by all except its inhabitants and the smattering of guests it receives during the holidays. An 18-year-old young man arrives in town, with a fake name and a made-up past. What transpires over the next few months is the subject of this strange little novel, which somehow put me in mind of the two Alains - Alain-Fournier's Le Grand Meaulnes (the book) as well as Alain Robbe-Grillet's L'Immortelle (the movie).

If what the press says of Patrick Modiano's work is true - memories, mostly, of the Nazi occupation of Paris - then this book is probably atypical. Certainly the plot, such as it is, is far removed from the capital, unfolding entirely within the bounds of this nameless town which apparently was modelled on the real-life resort of Annecy where Modiano spent a few years of his youth. But back to the story.

The young man stays at first in a hotel inhabited mainly by middle-aged summertime regulars, but soon he falls in with a mysterious pair - the beautiful Yvonne and the fastidious, slightly menacing Meinthe. He introduces himself as Count Victor Chmara, of exiled Russian aristocratic stock, which he freely admits to the reader is a lie. Rather, there are a handful of hints sprinkled here and there that conceal as much as they reveal: a father who had business in Brazzaville; hiding from the Germans during the occupation; a fleeting mention of Nansen passports. "Victor", it seems, was raised by his grandmother in a quiet Parisian neighbourhood. The reason he's fled to this borderland is because something about the situation in Paris makes him very nervous, very fearful. The Algerian war is raging in the background. Does he want to avoid conscription? Or has he been the victim of anti-Semitism?

Not a lot happens over the course of the next hundred pages. Victor and Yvonne become lovers, he moves into her suite at the Hermitage hotel. They go for the usual whirl: long walks and drives, boat rides, dinners, parties. They lounge around endlessly in the hotel room. There is an extended description of a fashion contest for couples called the Houligant Cup, which is won by Yvonne and Meinthe. This is the world of the European haute-bourgeoisie at play - a world of shimmering sunshine, elegant dresses, brittle laughter. If you don't have to look up what a shantung suit is, or a cheval-glass, or a haircut en brosse, you are probably at home in this world.

Later however we get a glimpse of the other side. Yvonne and Meinthe grew up in this town, both burning with a desire to escape its narrow confines. Her background is provincial-proletarian; her uncle who now runs the family's garage business invites Yvonne and Victor over for dinner, an evening far removed from the fancy goings-on at the Hermitage or the Alhambra.

The affair won't last, of course. But what will happen to the protagonists? Twelve years later, Victor will look back at that long-ago summer and his lost friends. Yvonne is a world-famous actress now; the homosexual Meinthe who may have been involved with the clandestine services in relation to the Algerian war, commits suicide one day by turning on the gas in his house.

*

An extended act of remembrance - that's how I thought of Modiano's novel. The pace is unhurried, meditative; more than telling a story, he is evoking a milieu, a certain ambience. Refracted through the thick glass of memory. There is that languid air of unknowing, so redolent of French literature and cinema of that era. Part mystery, part tedium. And yet by the end of the book, I was completely in its grip, its perverse slowness, the fate of its characters. I wonder if he wrote a sequel...

[Byurakn · Rating 5 out of 5]

Villa triste is yet another typical Patrick Modiano book - characters with a mysterious past and present and with many hints for the reader to figure the mysteries out. Modiano is one of those writers that you know exactly what you'll be getting, if you pick up a random book of his, in a good way.

But Villa triste also has that Hemingway vibe and that Breakfast at Tiffany's vibe. It's all the good stuff in one place with all the melancholy and the sadness. A great read for the quarantine

[Mary Eleftheriadou · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ακόμα μια αριστοτεχνική ιστορία δια χειρός του αγαπημένου συγγραφέα Μοντιανό. Έχει μια ικανότητα να περιγράφει λεπτομερείς σκηνές δίχως να κουράζει τον αναγνώστη ενώ οι κρυφές γωνίες των ηρώων που πρωταγωνιστούν φωτίζονται σταδιακά. Ελπίζω να βρω και άλλα βιβλία του!

[jeremy · Rating 3 out of 5]

patrick modiano, the 15th french nobel laureate for literature, is rather adept at creating a fictional milieu, but his characters and plotting leave much to be desired. he certainly writes well enough, which only compounds the frustration of a novel which leaves the reader wanting for more.

the words that make us feel someone's disappearance more deeply are the passwords that once existed between us and them and have suddenly become empty and useless.

*translated from the french by john cullen (skármeta, daoud, et al.)

[Габриела Манова · Rating 3 out of 5]

Тази книга е френски филм от 60-те. Тъмна, декадентска. Грамофонни плочи, цигари, уморени сервитьорки, хора, потънали в забрава и безделие. Един лъжец (Истината е сигурно необикновена. И смущаваща.), един сваляч, едно момиче, което е аспирираща актриса. Последните свидетели за един съществуващ свят. Нищослучване в рамките на 160 страници. Уж някаква любов, ама не точно любов, защото не, друго ми е по-важно, аз съм си по-важен, личните ми тревоги, болки, сплин, разтрогвания, сбогувания са ми по-важни.

И все пак: бърза, лека, приятна за четене. Модиано има изключително ненатрапчив, но оставащ задълго вкус. Някои изречения са същински бижута.
Главният герой, граф Виктор Хмара, е очевидно влюбен в своята Ивон, с нейната сянка, която мете тавана. Срещата им е кратка (и не се състои в никаква вила „Тъга“), но споменът за нея е за цял живот. Има неразгадаеми същества – винаги едни и същи – които стоят като часовои на всеки кръстопът на живота ни.
Ивон не е негова – не е била, няма желание да бъде. Но образът ѝ се връща, отново и отново. Няколко дена не се страхувах от нищо и от никого. После започна отново. Стара, остра болка.

Защото:
Ние бяхме създадени да се срещнем и да станем близки.

Ала никога не се достигат; словото разделя по-често, отколкото събира. Кой кого лъжеше на този чужд език?

Романът е целият фрагменти като този:
не разбирах как можеш да се отречеш от местата на своето детство, от улиците, от площадите, от къщите, които представляват родното ти място. Коренът. [...] И аз се чудех как човек може така бързо да се откъсне от корените си, след като е имал щастието да ги притежава.

Като този:
(...) откривах у Ивон такава склонност към забрава. При мен това се дължеше на отвращение пред движението, на безпокойство пред всичко, което се измества, отминава и се променя, на желанието да не градя вече върху пясък, да се установя някъде, на нуждата да се закова на едно място. А при нея? Мисля, че тя беше просто мързелива. Като морска трева.

И този!
Усещаме най-остро изчезването на едно същество, когато разменените помежду ни тайни думи станат внезапно ненужни и самоцелни.

***

Тази книга е полупролетен ден, мързеливо, мудно, тежко пристигащ сезон, бавно разопаковане на багаж, сънливост, уталожени спомени, дълъг процес на забравяне. Но още и Април в Португалия. Думи, които се точат от устните като локум. Цигански дух. Разгубване. Завиване на свят. Безцелни следобеди. Бавно отлитащи часове. Разливаща се пролет. Някакво лично мълчание.

Мълчание, което трая няколко безкрайни мига.

[Isabelle · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is still to date the most beautiful book Modiano has written. It is a dirge to young love, doomed to be sure but so intense that you know you will never feel that way again. There is nothing spectacular about the story: on a vacation, bored, two young people, both with a past already and some secrets, are going to meet, fall in love and eventually leave each other. Each word is simple but carefully chosen, each character is endearing for their colorfulness and tragic flaws alike. This is really a masterpiece, delicate but also very true somehow.

[Ali QS · Rating 2 out of 5]

مودیانو را بسیار می‌پسندم و تقریباً همه‌ی کارهایش را دارم و بیشتر هم خواهمش خواند. بااین‌حال این اثر بیش‌‌از‌حد آشفته بود. صحنه‌های اضافی و بدونِ چالش دراماتیک درش کم نبود. به نظرم از کارهای ضعیف نویسنده به شمار می‌رود.

[Behzad · Rating 4 out of 5]

پاتریک مودیانو خداوندگار توصیف جزئیاته. البته این توصیف های ریز اصلاً رئالیستی نیستن؛ شکل و ظاهر سوژه رو برای ما روشن میکنن، اما در عین حال حس نوعی غم/ ترس/ ابهام/ سرما/ تنهایی/ نوستالژی رو هم به خواننده منتقل میکنن؛ حسی که در نهایت، پیرنگ به ما نمیگه که از کجا میاد. در واقع، هنگام خوندن رمان های مودیانو، نباید خیلی انتظار نتیجه گیری روشن و منطقی و مشخص داشته باشیم. بلکه همیشه غوطه ور هستیم توی لایه های پیش-آگاه ذهن یه آدم که روان کم و بیش سرکوبگری داره و در عین حال میخواد به خاطر بیاره گذشته رو. و این گذشته رو تصاویر امروز، و اشیاء امروز، و مواجهه های امروز، برای او زنده میکنن. البته جهان دیگه امن نیست، و این ناامنی مبهم - که همین ابهام وحشتناک ترش میکنه - مدام لابلای کلمات جاریه.

هیچ چیزی در این رمان وجود نداره که بخوام انگشت بذارم روش و بگم به خاطر این، رمان خوبی بود. پیرنگ خاصی نداره. همون همیشگی پاتریک مودیانوئه؛ یعنی یه رخداد یا برخورد یا دیدن یا شنیدن یا لحظۀ گذرا، راوی و شخصیت اول رو پرت میکنه در جستجویی بی انتها و بی نتیجه برای یافتن گذشتۀ فرّار. هیچ اطلاعات خاصی به آدم نمیده رمانهای مودیانو.
ولی خب، نقطۀ قوت رمان های مودیانو اینه که حس بر می انگیزه. یعنی دست کم برای من، حس های عمیق و ناشناخته ای رو بر می انگیزه. انگار که با یه پاروی بلند، اعماق دریاچۀ ناخودآگاه من رو زیر و رو میکنه و ته نشین شده ها رو برای مدت کوتاهی رو میاره. و برای همین همیشه از مودیانو خوشم میاد.

[Richard · Rating 4 out of 5]

Another fine instalment in Modiano's accretional, Proustian literary project. The issues of time, memory, identity and survival at the fringes (both moral and topographical) of society are explored against the backdrop of Algerian War of Independence. As usual there is a pervasive atmosphere of mystery, and the action and dialogue are unsettling, imbued with the contours and textures of a bad dream. The remarkable thing about Modiano is that his novels are all fundamentally similar, yet he always manages to create new and compelling variations upon his chosen themes. This LARB article puts it very well:

https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/n...

"It has been claimed that Modiano’s range of work is narrow and repetitive. He himself has said that for over 45 years he has always been writing the same novel (on fait toujours le même roman). But if his works deal with a narrow range of themes and are repetitive, they are so in the way that Ravel’s Boléro is repetitive: a simple melody with insistent, intricate, increasing orchestration that holds our attention from beginning to spectacular end."

[Nikos Tsentemeidis · Rating 3 out of 5]

Είναι από τα πρώτα βιβλία του Modiano (1975). Απέχει από την ωριμότητα των τελευταίων του βιβλίων (που τον οδήγησαν στο Νόμπελ). Επίσης, είναι το μόνο από όσα διάβασα που δεν έχει σαν σημείο αναφοράς το Παρίσι, δηλαδή το δυνατό χαρτί του συγγραφέα. Παρ' όλα αυτά είναι ένα ευχάριστο βιβλίο.

[Dan · Rating 4 out of 5]

4 Modiano stars, on a scale only of Patrick Modiano novels

My favorite novelists all published first or second novels that established them as immediate or soon-to-be literary stars: Anita Brookner with A Start in Life and Providence, Henry Green with Blindness and Living, Alice McDermott with A Bigamist’s Daughter and That Night, Marilynne Robinson with Housekeeping, and Philip Roth with Goodbye, Columbus. Less so Patrick Modiano, whose initial three novels (or novellas, if you prefer) were topically striking but did not fully foreshadow the future Nobel laureate’s greatness. But with Villa Triste, his fourth novel, Patrick Modiano emerges as the Patrick Modiano of his more mature fiction. While Villa Triste does not display the perfection of In the Café of Lost Youth or the near-perfection of Sundays in August, it showcases the themes, the emotions, and the mysteries of both.

As typical of later Modiano novels, Villa Triste centers on a mysterious young man’s nostalgia for a bygone time, a bygone love, and a bygone city. In Villa Triste, the nostalgia is that of Victor Chmara reminiscing about his love and life almost thirteen years earlier, in about 1962, when he was eighteen. Modiano provides few clues of Chmara’s past. Where did Chmara grow up: Alexandria, Lisbon, Paris, Brussels, Constantinople, or Berlin, all mentioned by Modiano as possibilities? Chmara is apparently stateless, perhaps living in some danger and perhaps fleeing an only partially revealed past: ”What was there for me to fear? The noise of war, the din of the world would have had to pass through a wall of cotton wall to reach this holiday oasis. And who would have ever thought of coming to look for me among these distinguished summer vacationers?” Does Chmara worry about discovery because he’s avoiding military service?: ”The young men, well behaved and romantic, would be sent to Algeria. Not me.” Is Chmara a Russian count? No, not possible. Modiano, a cineaste even in this early novel, reveals that Bella Darvi and Victor are cousins. Victor, Jewish as is Darvi, imagines himself as Arthur Miller and imagines a future ”as a Jewish writer and wear[ing] thick horn rimmed spectacles”.

Also typical of Modiano’s later novels, Yvonne Pacquet, Chmara’s lost love in Villa Triste, has an only partially revealed past. Yvonne is an aspiring film actress, remembered by Victor ”as attractive as Marilyn Monroe”. And again typical of later Modiano novels, the romance and the sex between Victor and Yvonne exist only as delicate hints. As in Sundays in August, Modiano provides a shady, older consort for the couple, with a large, showy automobile. For Modiano, the role of the consort—the third wheel—is especially important. Here’s Victor talking about Doctor René Meinthe, the consort in Villa Triste: ”There are some mysterious persons—always the same ones—who stand like sentinels at every crossroads in your life.”

Villa Triste was published in 1975, when Modiano was thirty. Even at thirty, he had already honed his ability to engage readers through memories and mysteries. The memories in Villa Triste, as in Modiano’s later novels, are partial and often unclear, inviting the reader to reminisce along with the reminiscing characters. Chmara tells us, for example, that Yvonne’s ”family name has just come back to me”. The mysteries—the incomplete backgrounds of characters, the partial explanations of past events, and the hints of what’s occurred between the remembered time and the present—transform Modiano novels into interactive experiences for the reader: we remember along with Modiano’s characters and we involve ourselves in trying solve the mysteries of their pasts and futures that Modiano only partially reveals.

[Kaloyana · Rating 2 out of 5]

Наистина ли това е най-силната и ярка творба на Патрик Модиано? Започвам да си мисля, че с нобеловите академици никак не ни съвпадат литературните вкусове. Поне напоследък. Е, сега не беше толкова страшно разногласието както при Орхан Памук (той държи личния ми рекорд, за най-бързо изоставяне на книга. Някъде около втора-трета страница), но все пак с удивление запомням, че това е най-добрата творба на Модиано.

Много, ама много, исках да ми хареса и наистина за малко да се получи. Защото, по принцип, си падам много по френската литература, а Модиано е автор, който съм пропуснала. И това малко, което не достига за да харесам "Вила "Тъга"", го разделям по равно между мен и Модиано. Той трябваше повече да пише и описва, а аз повече да чета. Признавам си, че може би не бях достатъчно задълбочена. Прочетох текста в рамките на един ден с много спирания и започвания, но все пак... Историята започна така, сякаш ще ми хареса. И езикът е прост, и е хубаво написано, но... не знам, наистина не знам, какво да кажа. Странни герои, странни взаимоотношения. И нещо ми липсваше. Нямаше дълбочина и онази "многопластовост" - нито в историята, нито в самите герои. Не можах да ги харесам, не можах даже да ги запомня всички. А те бяха четирима някъде. Нямаше нищо нито ярко, нито поразяващо в тях.

Абе, нещо не ни се получи срещата с Патрик Модиано. И ще отложа следваща, освен, ако някой не се застъпи за друга негова творба и не ми я изрекалмира горещо.


Било от някаква много рядка порода германски догове, които страдали от наследствена тъга и нежелание да живеят. Някои дори се самоубивали. Запитах я защо е избрала такова мрачно куче.
- Защото са по-елегантни от другите - отвърна ми тя.

Има неразгадаеми същества - винаги едни и същи, - които стоят като часовои на всеки кръстопът на живота ни.

Винаги трябва да сме готови да заминем и на всяка стая, в която сме попаднали, трябва да гледаме като на временно убежище.

Усещаме най-остро изчезването на едно същество, когато разменените помежду ни тайни думи станат внезапно ненужни и самоцелни.

[D · Rating 4 out of 5]

Excellent. Dreamy relaxed atmosphere with unsolved questions. Set in Annecy, next to the lake of the same name and close to Geneva. The film Le parfum d'Yvonne is based on this book and has the same qualities.

[Merry · Rating 3 out of 5]

Three characters meet in the 60’s in a small French town located on a lake across from Switzerland, and everyone seems to be living in the past. Victor, the main protagonist, and Yvonne, an actress, (although they all appear to be acting) and Dr. Menthe… we learn his father was a martyr of the French Resistance. The description of the hotels and cafes in this small town, as well as the automobiles, the way the people dress, it all appears more like the ’40’s when there was danger from the Occupation. Time has stood still. Danger from war is one subject Victor refers to often. Is he safe? Using a false identity, he is not Victor, much less a Count, as he claims. Everyone just keeps living and lying - perhaps much as it was during the German Occupation in the 40’s. Not much has changed, with the exception of the presence of the Occupation, there is no danger anymore, or is there? . . . so stop the pretending and get on with the present and the future! But Victor lives in the past. He holds on to mementos from the past - material or mental, he holds on. He cannot free himself and lives with anxiety and fear, yet thoroughly enjoying the company of Yvonne and the lifestyle she and Dr. Meinth have in this small town. If this review sounds a bit confusing, well that is how I found this book!

Confusing at times, but I still felt compelled to finish this true work of art, this beautifully written piece of literature. Melancholy sucked me in from the beginning with a Great Dane dog that also appears to be acting!, to each of the characters, who seem to be suspended in time, slow moving, who they are past and present, what are they doing in this small town, are all pieces of a puzzle that need to be assembled….. bit by bit, Victor randomly gives information along the way, but never enough to build the complete picture for me.

Why did I bother to finish reading this book? I felt if I kept reading, it would all come together and make perfect sense. The methodic storytelling captured my curiosity, as the style of writing is dream like. Surely I would eventually comprehend the story fully, the characters purpose and connection to one another, their past, their present. But it was not meant to be. I did connect a few of the dots to this puzzle, but mostly speculation, as the author confirms very little for me. Even in the end, right up to the last sentences the author plays with my curiosity. A suitcase left behind at the train station - why? I'm curious as to what was inside and I question the symbolic meaning the author had in this action. Sadly, I need a college professor to help me decipher it all!

Confusing yet compelling, not a book for everyone - 4 stars for the compelling nature that kept me reading - 3 stars for the story line as I could not get the pieces to come together and satisfy my curiosity.

About the Author
A little research online helps me better understand this author which helps me confirm some of my thoughts about this book. Apparently all of his works are of similar themes. His novels delve into the puzzle of identity, and of trying to track evidence of existence through the traces of the past.

"Obsessed with the troubled and shameful period of the Occupation—during which his father had allegedly engaged in shady dealings—Modiano returns to this theme in all of his novels, book after book building a remarkably homogeneous work. "After each novel, I have the impression that I have cleared it all away," he says. "But I know I'll come back over and over again to tiny details, little things that are part of what I am. In the end, we are all determined by the place and the time in which we were born." He writes constantly about the city of Paris, describing the evolution of its streets, its habits and its people." - http://www.francetoday.com/articles/2...

My thoughts on a few lines from the book;

Page 137
Victor’s identity becomes clear?
"The rooms in the "palaces" fool you at first, but pretty soon their dreary walls and furniture begin to exude the same sadness as the accommodations and shady hotels. Insipid luxury; sickly-sweet smell in the corridors which I can't identify but must be the very odor of anxiety, of instability, of exile, of phoniness. A smell that has always accompanied me”.
-My interpretation……Victor in his youth, along with his family, were hunted by the Nazis, constantly on the run, changing identities, hiding out in different "palaces" and it haunts him for a lifetime? He reveals that he never lived in one place, he shares he has anxiety and talks of exile, feeling he does not belong anywhere, yearning to have lived in the small French town like that of Yvonne and Menthe, who seemed to have experienced an idyllic life growing up there. Victor feels like a man, a race, without a country - I could speculate for days on just this paragraph! Early on you learn Victor is Jewish, passing himself as a Count, a fake persona, perhaps as he and his family did during the war? He is always running, has no home? The so called “palaces” were the words used by the parents/himself in describing the different hiding locations, and that exotic palace reference kept the deception/the discovery of their disguises less frightening?

These are just my interpretations of one paragraph, you will have to come to your own conclusions should you choose to read this book. I would suggest researching the author and some of his other works to help explain his thought processes prior to reading.

[Zahra Shahsvnd · Rating 3 out of 5]

تجربه بهم ثابت کرده کتاب‌هایی که جایزه‌ی چیزی رو می‌برن بخاطر بالا سطح انتظاراتم معمولاً اونقدری که باید درگیرم نمی‌کنن، این کتاب مودیانو از این دست کتابا بود برام. کتابی نیست که مجابت کنه یه نفس بخونیش، غرق داستانش نمیشی و مطمئنم وسطش هزار بار کتاب رو می‌بندی و میری. ولی خب مودیانوعه دیگه پس سه نصفه.
فکر کنم از مودیانو فقط بیراهش رو دوست داشتم:دی

[Mayk Can Şişman · Rating 2 out of 5]

2014’te Nobel kazanan Fransız yazar Patrick Modiano’nun Türkçeye çevrilmiş bütün kitaplarını okumuş bir okuyucu olarak ‘Hüzünlü Ev’i de büyük bir merakla satın aldım ve okudum. Sonuç ise kocaman bir hayal kırıklığı oldu. Yazarın erken dönem eserlerinden biri olan ‘Hüzünlü Ev’ her Modiano kitabı gibi kolaylıkla okunmasına rağmen yazarın diğer kitaplarındaki ışıltıdan bir hayli uzakta. Acayip bir olmamışlık, oturmamışlık var. Temposuz ve sönük. Bir türlü ilerlemiyor kitap. Karakterler de olay örgüsü de aşırı zayıf kalmış bana göre. Mesela Meinthe karakteri tek başına romanı sırtlayabilecekken enteresan bir şekilde bu karakterin canlılığını baltalamış yazar. ‘Karanlık Dükkanlar Sokağı’, ‘Mahallede Kaybolma Diye’ ve özellikle de baskısı bulunmayan ‘Kötü Bir İlkbahar’ gibi üç adet şahaneliğe imza atmış bir yazarın bence en iz bırakmayan eseri bu kitap. E söz konusu Modiano olunca beklentinin bir tık altı bile fazlaca derin hayal kırıklığı oluyor.

[Marie · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was my first Modiano, and as he's a Nobel Prize in Literature, I was curious about him. The book is about loss, emptiness, boredom and above all the transience of life. It is very well written and full of a nostalgic atmosphere which I liked; problem is, when a book about boredom and emptiness has a non-existent plot, it is in danger of being boring and empty itself and I nearly dropped it half way through. Thankfully it grew on me after a while and I am not discouraged from trying another Modiano novel soon!

[payam Mohammadi · Rating 4 out of 5]

داستان درباره‌ی فردی بی‌ملیتی است که خود را ویکتور کمارا معرفی می‌کند که در اوایل دهه‌ی سی زندگی‌اش به شهری باز می‌گردد که حدود دوازده سال پیش در تابستانی، تعطیلات خود را در آنجا گذرانده بود و الان خاطره‌ی آن روزگاران از دست رفته را شرح می‌دهد. روزگار��نی که او از همه چیز می‌ترسید بالاخص که آن دوران، دوران جنگ الجزایر بود و از برای همین ترس بود که به آن شهر(تا حدودی می‌شه گفت) فرار کرده بود.
در این داستان ما با افرادی سروکار داریم که از گذشته‌شان هیچ آگاهی‌ای نداریم و نویسنده هم هیچ سعی‌یی نمی‌کند تا آنان را اندکی برای ما بشناساند. افرادی که تا حدودی گم هستند و از گذشته‌ی خودشان فراری.
در سراسر داستان توصیف خیابان‌ها و مناظر کاملا مشهود است و این لذت خواندن کتاب را دو چندان می‌کند.

[Sjors · Rating 4 out of 5]

Villa Triste - the melancholy mansion. It is a wonderfully written, atmospheric, strange book. Its main characters just seem to float through life, or perhaps more accurately, they just partake in existence because life to me seems to imply direction and striving. But perhaps there is a more passive way, a kind of floating on life, like leafs float on a slow-moving stream.

The story reads like a collection of old photographs re-discovered under the bottom drawer of a semi-antique cabinet that was passed down from some remote great uncle and had been put in the attic and half-forgotten. Years later, when looking for some paddles, you moved the cabinet and you heard something slide inside. Being the curious sort, you pull out some drawers to find a brown envelope containing some old black and white pictures, curling at the edges, perhaps an old 100 franc note or two, and a few handwritten notes in French from the folds of which a pressed yellow flower floats to the floor. The pictures show two young men and a rather striking girl in various locales; standing around a car with the men wearing straw "boaters" and the girl in some ageless thin summer dress; sitting on a terrace with cocktails; in a forest looking out over a wide sun soaked lake. You are drawn in by these pictures, these people seem so remote and inscrutable and you imagine what their lives and times were like. You start imagining what might be going on between those three and slowly a picture emerges. They clearly have money, so no menial jobs to oppress them... so let one of the men be a writer (who doesn't write) and let the girl be, let's say, an aspiring actress of some description, yes, a "debutante". The other man looks a bit older so let him be.. let him be.. hmmm let him be mysterious but equally leisured. You have this idea of these three now and you can imagine their doings during those sunny days and balmy nights spent in a large hotel by the lakeside, or walking along leisurely through gardens with the leaves filtering dappled summer sun stains on their faces. You strain to find a bit more, you imagine some motivations. Perhaps the "writer" is running from some responsibilities back in Paris (yes, it has to be Paris) and he is seeking a hiding place at the edge of the country. Perhaps the older man is a doctor of some sort and yes, let's hint at him being gay too. No, let's not hint, let's imagine him bold and outrageous. And the girl? You let out a sigh. Let the girl be the enigmatic locus of your own past attractions. A strange alluring accent, a backstory that doesn't quite check out, even when you find out that she is actually from the local town near the hotel. A lithe body that gives itself to you generously. You smile and shift down to sit on the dusty attic floor with your back against the cabinet you were just moving. A smile plays around your lips. There is no definite story here, there is no definite plot, there is just a loose collection of situations and imagined connections that surface and submerge in a honeyed daydream. A nice find on such a day. Better than paddles.

This is how this book is. It is great writing. It is like a daydream.

....I will definitely return to this writer and see what else he conjures up....