This author is so strange ... whenever I start into one of her books I think: oh, I know what she was thinking when she began it (which is a not very helpful way to start into her books. If you blink you will miss what she is really writing about) but then after a while you will find yourself thinking: "how on earth did she get here from there?" The peregrinations and purlicues this woman takes merits a monograph in itself.
Ms. Nothomb writes two types of books. The first type--fiction, always--has a basis in a horrid, unthinkable question like: "what makes a man crash a plane?" or "how does someone accidentally assume another person's identity?" and then she runs with it, usually to incredible, unbelievable ends and outcomes. Her second type of book is autobiographical and because she is a person who thinks and feels deeply--to an embarrassing degree--about herself, her self disclosure and self mockery is really quite entertaining. Imagine if you will starting a promising internship in a company and getting demoted so many times you become the lavatory cleaner. This is how Ms. Nothomb's life unfolds when she tries to do what "normal" people do.
Barbe Bleue belongs to the first category; it's a novel about the unthinkable. From the first pages we follow a woman who willingly embarks upon a relationship with a man who may or may not be a serial killer. He is an eccentric with a lot of nifty skills and a commensurate number of fatal flaws. From the offset there is a lot of totally inside nattering about in which capacity the French view nobility, which was nuanced, but to my thinking fell a bit short of a good deep root canal into the vicissitudes of French snobbery. (When I lived in France I was constantly amazed at how the French Revolution had fallen short of success--and for this I will get reamed, but, the truth is the French--god love 'em--are deeply class conscious and will never get over it no matter how many Socialist presidents they elect.)
There was practically no summary in this book--it was all scene. 90% of that was dialogue between the two major characters. There's a lot of value-judgment conversation, a very typical French way of looking at things: This is how things are; there is no other way of seeing the world ... well I believe otherwise, and my values by far outstrip yours, plus I've got Greek philosophers I can quote to back up my statements ... well your references and arguments are faulty and/or immature therefore I am right ... no, in fact you have fallen into logical fallacy therefore proving I am right and you are wrong... The incidental joy in this is that our interlocutors are discussing murder, the Inquisition, the paintings of Khnopff, the vagaries of Holy love (here it is amusing to realize that Ms. Nothomb knows absolutely nothing about religion and her remarks are mere lobs, every single one of which flies out of bounds), discretion and privacy vs. secrecy and decency, and the consequences of personal will. Much champagne drinking ensues. It's like "My Dinner with André" but instead of two voluble New York Jews we get a champagne-swilling Belgian chav and an inbred psychopathic agoraphobe. (I like to imagine he has the Hapsburg chin.)
Ms. Nothomb laid on her usual suspects--characters who are alienated from practically birth due to the incomprehensible names their parents foisted upon them. Alienation is perhaps her most recurring theme, and because I have been chomping through Ennegram material this year I recognize in Ms Nothomb an integrated FOUR. Oh those FOURS, such alienation fantasies. Other Nothombian tropes include exploration of obscure concepts gleaned from geometry, mathematics or Greek philosophy, obscure Classical references, the occasional Latin expression and regular application of comfort food, in this case papillotes and gateau Saint Honoré. Bless her.
How I love this woman! Thank goodness I live in a time where I can purchase little novels like hers in an airport book store and run with it throughout the flight. When I read Ms. Nothomb's books I, like many readers, care deeply about the resolution to the answer--will he or won't he?--but the bottom line is you don't read her for answers. You read her for the ride.
To be frank, her character develoment is a bit Pixar. She peoples her worlds with unsympathetic characters who strive to justify their agonies and untenable positions with convoluted, unconvincing arguments. I haven't decided if it is because Ms. Nothomb so deeply cares about humanity that she wants to delineate the extent of our continuum or if in fact she despises them so much she sees no interest in having them come alive, live, prosper and multiply.
Then there are the endings: head scratchers.