What do you think?
Rate this book
Un roman français #1
Французький роман
Після арешту за вживання кокаїну Беґбедер потрапляє в поліційну дільницю, де першої ж ночі, щоб побороти напад клаустрофобії, обіцяє собі написати книжку. Він починає пригадувати походження своєї родини, знайомство своїх батьків і їхнє швидке розлучення, своє життя то з матір’ю, то з батьком. Незабаром за рішенням паризького прокурора його переводять до префектури, і другої ночі Беґбедер рятується тим, що пригадує власне розлучення, свої стосунки з донькою Хлоєю, переосмислює своє життя й виходить з в’язниці іншою людиною. Цей автобіографічний роман, який отримав літературну премію «Ренодо», вважається чи не найкращим у доробку автора.
256 pages, Hardcover
First published August 19, 2009
109 people are currently reading
1590 people want to read
About the author
Frédéric Beigbeder
64 books1,727 followersBeigbeder was born into a privileged family in Neuilly-sur-Seine, France. His mother, Christine de Chasteigner, is a translator of mawkish novels ( Barbara Cartland et al.); his father, Jean-Michel Beigbeder, is a headhunter. He studied at the Lycée Montaigne and Louis-le-Grand, and later at the Institut D'Etudes Politiques de Paris. Upon graduation at the at the age of 24, began work as an advertising executive, author, broadcaster, publisher, and dilettante.
In 1994, Beigbeder founded the "Prix de Flore", which takes its name from the famous and plush Café de Flore in Saint-Germain-des-Prés. The prize is awarded annually to a promising young French author. Vincent Ravalec, Jacques A. Bertrand, Michel Houellebecq are among those who have won the prize. In 2004, the tenth anniversary of the prize, it was awarded to the only American to ever receive it, Bruce Benderson. Two of Beigbeder's novels, 99 Francs (Jan Kounen, 2007) and L'amour dure trois ans (Beigbeder, 2011), have been adapted for the cinema.
In 2002, he presented the TV talk show "Hypershow" on French channel Canal+, co-presented with Jonathan Lambert, Sabine Crossen and Henda. That year he also advised French Communist Party candidate Robert Hue in the presidential election.
He worked for a few years as a publisher for Flammarion. He left Flammarion in 2006.
In May 2007 he spent time in the United States to shoot a film about the reclusive American author, J.D. Salinger.
In 1994, Beigbeder founded the "Prix de Flore", which takes its name from the famous and plush Café de Flore in Saint-Germain-des-Prés. The prize is awarded annually to a promising young French author. Vincent Ravalec, Jacques A. Bertrand, Michel Houellebecq are among those who have won the prize. In 2004, the tenth anniversary of the prize, it was awarded to the only American to ever receive it, Bruce Benderson. Two of Beigbeder's novels, 99 Francs (Jan Kounen, 2007) and L'amour dure trois ans (Beigbeder, 2011), have been adapted for the cinema.
In 2002, he presented the TV talk show "Hypershow" on French channel Canal+, co-presented with Jonathan Lambert, Sabine Crossen and Henda. That year he also advised French Communist Party candidate Robert Hue in the presidential election.
He worked for a few years as a publisher for Flammarion. He left Flammarion in 2006.
In May 2007 he spent time in the United States to shoot a film about the reclusive American author, J.D. Salinger.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 234 reviews
April 17, 2015
"Един френски роман" - една възхита към Фредерик Бегбеде. Искам да го намеря, да го стисна силно и да му кажа - "ето, че като искаш, можеш." А той не само, че може, ами го и прави. Написва един страхотен роман, честен и откровен, без онази претенция, без толкова наркотици (само малко, обещавам!) Роман за детството си, за самотата си това, че не е онзи Бегбеде, който се показва в книгите си досега (умрях си от кеф, че си призна), ами е един обикновен, самотник, който плаче на филми и книги, но и има талант да пише. Няколко пъти буца заставаше на гърлото ми. Има живот, море, Ню Йорк, самота, младост, копнежи, объркване, страхове, много добре разказано! Със сърце. Фредерик пише красиво, мъдро, смислено, подредено, красиво и интересно. Не исках да свършва тази книга. Най-добрата на Бегбеде. Един наистина френски роман!
Вдишвах една и съща миризма на восък по стълбите в По и Гетари, но тя ме отнася и в Сар, където дядо бе купил още една къща: наглеждах кравите, които дремят в мъгливите ливади на испанската планина, хващах влакчето, което се изкачва до Рюн. И до днес това са най-прекрасните гледки, които познавам, а доста съм пътувал оттогава. Кравите бяха бежови или черни, под синьото небе се редуваха всички нюанси на зеленото, белите петна бяха стада овце, колкото и да търсеха, очите не откриваха никаква грозота, и в четирите посоки на света, хълмовете излъчваха радост.
До момента не съм открил по-добро определение за това, което ни два литературата: възможността да чуем човешки глас. (...) Той ме зарази с неизлечим вирус (четенето). Щастието да си откъснат от света - това е първата ми зависимост. Изисква се изключителна сила да спреш да четеш романи. Трябва да ти се иска да живееш, да тичаш, да растеш. Бях дрогиран, преди да получа правото да излизам вечер. Интересувах се повече от книгите, отколкото от живота. Оттогава постоянно използвам четенето, като средство за премахване на времето, а писането - като средство за задържането му.
Капиталистическата повеля (всичко, което е приятно, е задължително) е точно толкова глупава, колкото християнското чувство за вина (всичко, което е приятно, е забранено)
Вдишвах една и съща миризма на восък по стълбите в По и Гетари, но тя ме отнася и в Сар, където дядо бе купил още една къща: наглеждах кравите, които дремят в мъгливите ливади на испанската планина, хващах влакчето, което се изкачва до Рюн. И до днес това са най-прекрасните гледки, които познавам, а доста съм пътувал оттогава. Кравите бяха бежови или черни, под синьото небе се редуваха всички нюанси на зеленото, белите петна бяха стада овце, колкото и да търсеха, очите не откриваха никаква грозота, и в четирите посоки на света, хълмовете излъчваха радост.
До момента не съм открил по-добро определение за това, което ни два литературата: възможността да чуем човешки глас. (...) Той ме зарази с неизлечим вирус (четенето). Щастието да си откъснат от света - това е първата ми зависимост. Изисква се изключителна сила да спреш да четеш романи. Трябва да ти се иска да живееш, да тичаш, да растеш. Бях дрогиран, преди да получа правото да излизам вечер. Интересувах се повече от книгите, отколкото от живота. Оттогава постоянно използвам четенето, като средство за премахване на времето, а писането - като средство за задържането му.
Капиталистическата повеля (всичко, което е приятно, е задължително) е точно толкова глупава, колкото християнското чувство за вина (всичко, което е приятно, е забранено)
April 12, 2012
What to say? One of the best books I read in my life!
You know those books that make such an impression on you, they stay inprinted in your mind and you always recall them in your lows and your peaks? Well, this is one of them.
When I first took it to read it, I didn't know what the book is about, cover suggested it is not a thriller. :)
Since I didn't read his works earlier, I had no idea what to expect.
And in my humble opinion, that is the best possible position you can take when starting to read a book.
To be honest, start was not promising, I wasn't into it at all. In a begining book resembles Tarantino's 'Pulp fiction' and althogh I really enjoyed the film, I have to be 'in a mood' to see it again.
I was in a tram, taking 40 minutes ride to home at 9 pm with a load of loud and tired people around me. First I'm trying to get a seat so I can read, then I feel guilty for finding one 'cause some of the older ladies who entered few stops after I did, don't have a seat of their own. Such an agony!
So, just like 'Pulp fiction' it starts from the end of the story and through the book you start discovering what is happening and what happened prior the thing you just read.
And, this is where all the parallels with 'Pulp fiction' stop.
It is not the story that you find yourself in, but an inside of Beigbeder's mind.
It is a kind of an intimate journey you could take when reading your own diary. Beigbeder opened himself to the last cell in his body, brain and muscle.
It is so incredibly honest! You can hear his heartbeat, you can feel his breath.
It's just like your friend coming to you one evening. First he starts talking about what happened yesterday, then starts joking about his life, then mocking himself and at the end he is sobbing on your shoulder confessing his deapest fears, lies, illusions and faults.
What especially impresses, is the style of his writing.
With this kind of 'theme' (can you call it a theme?), it's easy to become predictable and cheesy.
But Beigbeder is none of it.
Oh no! He is so smart and observative, in a philosophical way, but not presumptuous. His language is so comprehensive, it feels as if he draws little pictures to you, not talking to you. At the end, you're left with movie playing in your mind.
This novel doesn't only talk about life or a childhood or a human nature.
It is an honest witness of our humanity.
You know those books that make such an impression on you, they stay inprinted in your mind and you always recall them in your lows and your peaks? Well, this is one of them.
When I first took it to read it, I didn't know what the book is about, cover suggested it is not a thriller. :)
Since I didn't read his works earlier, I had no idea what to expect.
And in my humble opinion, that is the best possible position you can take when starting to read a book.
To be honest, start was not promising, I wasn't into it at all. In a begining book resembles Tarantino's 'Pulp fiction' and althogh I really enjoyed the film, I have to be 'in a mood' to see it again.
I was in a tram, taking 40 minutes ride to home at 9 pm with a load of loud and tired people around me. First I'm trying to get a seat so I can read, then I feel guilty for finding one 'cause some of the older ladies who entered few stops after I did, don't have a seat of their own. Such an agony!
So, just like 'Pulp fiction' it starts from the end of the story and through the book you start discovering what is happening and what happened prior the thing you just read.
And, this is where all the parallels with 'Pulp fiction' stop.
It is not the story that you find yourself in, but an inside of Beigbeder's mind.
It is a kind of an intimate journey you could take when reading your own diary. Beigbeder opened himself to the last cell in his body, brain and muscle.
It is so incredibly honest! You can hear his heartbeat, you can feel his breath.
It's just like your friend coming to you one evening. First he starts talking about what happened yesterday, then starts joking about his life, then mocking himself and at the end he is sobbing on your shoulder confessing his deapest fears, lies, illusions and faults.
What especially impresses, is the style of his writing.
With this kind of 'theme' (can you call it a theme?), it's easy to become predictable and cheesy.
But Beigbeder is none of it.
Oh no! He is so smart and observative, in a philosophical way, but not presumptuous. His language is so comprehensive, it feels as if he draws little pictures to you, not talking to you. At the end, you're left with movie playing in your mind.
This novel doesn't only talk about life or a childhood or a human nature.
It is an honest witness of our humanity.
August 18, 2017
Razumem da je ova izasla mnogo ranije, ali posto sam je procitao iste godine kad i prvi tom Moje borbe, moram da ih poredim.
Oba naslova crpe iz Prusta i verovatno su oba autora pisala romane imajuci to na umu. Begbede ga i pominje na par mesta.
Ali, kad vec poredim, Norvezanin je ipak za stepenicu vise. Moja borba ostaje u tebi i vraca se - svakih toliko ga se setim, evo citajuci razne savremene autore. Ipak Francuski roman, sa Begbedeovim fragmentiranim opisima detinjstva i kukanjem sto ga kao slavnu licnost tretiraju drugacije prilikom hapsenja (smrkao je kokain na haubi automobila - pa zele da ga postave kao primer) nece posegnuti toliko visoko. Inteligentan je i cesto interesantan ali uprkos kratkoci na trenutke dosadan. Da autor vise koristi humor, bila bi cetvorka.
Oba naslova crpe iz Prusta i verovatno su oba autora pisala romane imajuci to na umu. Begbede ga i pominje na par mesta.
Ali, kad vec poredim, Norvezanin je ipak za stepenicu vise. Moja borba ostaje u tebi i vraca se - svakih toliko ga se setim, evo citajuci razne savremene autore. Ipak Francuski roman, sa Begbedeovim fragmentiranim opisima detinjstva i kukanjem sto ga kao slavnu licnost tretiraju drugacije prilikom hapsenja (smrkao je kokain na haubi automobila - pa zele da ga postave kao primer) nece posegnuti toliko visoko. Inteligentan je i cesto interesantan ali uprkos kratkoci na trenutke dosadan. Da autor vise koristi humor, bila bi cetvorka.
Read
September 26, 2025Hafıza kaybı susarak hakikati gizlemektir Zaman bir kameradır; zaman fotoğraflara resmigeçit yaptırır. S.110
Dışarıdan gördüğümüz konfor dolu hayatlar ne derece mutlu veya huzurlu? Belki hepsi bir yanılsamadan ibaret. Frederic Beigbeder yetiştiği burjuva ailesini anlatırken, yaşadığı mutsuzlukları, anne-babasının boşanma sürecini, ağabeyinin gölgesinde kalmasını, gölgede kalmamak icin yaptığı aykırılıkları perdesiz bir şekilde anlatıyor romanında. Melankolik ve hüzün dolu bir metin bir Fransız Romanı. Konformizm içinde geçen ama aslında hüzünlü bir çocuğun hikayesi metin. Yazar, hüzün dolu hayatını anlatırken, Fransa'nin sosyo- kültürel yapısındaki değişimlerden de bahsediyor. Bu bakımdan Annie Ernaux'ya benzettiğimi söyleyebilirim. Yazarın kendini ailesine karşı kanıtlama çabasını "Beni derhal sevseydiniz, yazar olur muydum? ifadesi çok güzel özetlemiş. Orhan Pamuk'un hüznünü, okurun aklına getiriyor. Yazar olma serüveni açısından benzer. Kitabi bence en iyi tanımlayan mevsim sonbahar. Bir Fransız Romanı bir sonbahar metni. Yaprakların dökülmesi gibi aile üyelerinin bu dünyadan gitmeleri ile birlikte yazarın onlara karşı bir itirafnamesi. Keşkelerle, sevinçlerle, hüzünlerle, pişmanlıklarla dolu bir vefa borcu. Özellikle kızına taş sektirmeyi öğrettiği bölümde büyükbabasının aklına gelmesi ve yazarın gözlerinin dolması yaşadığımız anıları, hüzünleri sadece bastırdığımızı ve bu duyguların bizi sürekli takip ettiğini göstermesi bakımından önemli. Hayat sanırım, keşkeler tarihinden ibaret ve bu keşkeleri en iyi anlatan da edebiyat. Iyi okumalar.
Dışarıdan gördüğümüz konfor dolu hayatlar ne derece mutlu veya huzurlu? Belki hepsi bir yanılsamadan ibaret. Frederic Beigbeder yetiştiği burjuva ailesini anlatırken, yaşadığı mutsuzlukları, anne-babasının boşanma sürecini, ağabeyinin gölgesinde kalmasını, gölgede kalmamak icin yaptığı aykırılıkları perdesiz bir şekilde anlatıyor romanında. Melankolik ve hüzün dolu bir metin bir Fransız Romanı. Konformizm içinde geçen ama aslında hüzünlü bir çocuğun hikayesi metin. Yazar, hüzün dolu hayatını anlatırken, Fransa'nin sosyo- kültürel yapısındaki değişimlerden de bahsediyor. Bu bakımdan Annie Ernaux'ya benzettiğimi söyleyebilirim. Yazarın kendini ailesine karşı kanıtlama çabasını "Beni derhal sevseydiniz, yazar olur muydum? ifadesi çok güzel özetlemiş. Orhan Pamuk'un hüznünü, okurun aklına getiriyor. Yazar olma serüveni açısından benzer. Kitabi bence en iyi tanımlayan mevsim sonbahar. Bir Fransız Romanı bir sonbahar metni. Yaprakların dökülmesi gibi aile üyelerinin bu dünyadan gitmeleri ile birlikte yazarın onlara karşı bir itirafnamesi. Keşkelerle, sevinçlerle, hüzünlerle, pişmanlıklarla dolu bir vefa borcu. Özellikle kızına taş sektirmeyi öğrettiği bölümde büyükbabasının aklına gelmesi ve yazarın gözlerinin dolması yaşadığımız anıları, hüzünleri sadece bastırdığımızı ve bu duyguların bizi sürekli takip ettiğini göstermesi bakımından önemli. Hayat sanırım, keşkeler tarihinden ibaret ve bu keşkeleri en iyi anlatan da edebiyat. Iyi okumalar.
May 15, 2021
Писатель, происходящий из богатой семьи и обласканный вниманием прессы, обиженный тем, что его не выпускают из тюрьмы за употребление наркотиков, решил написать книгу, перемежая свои претензии к миру с детскими травмами. Раздражает его инфантильность, высокомерие и нытье о его свободе самому решать, вредить ли своему здоровью, употребляя кокаин. Так и до рекламы наркотиков недолго. В целом, неинтересно.
November 2, 2014
За критиците на ФБ-най-смелият му, искрен и силен роман. Не го подценявайте.
March 9, 2016
"Francuski roman" Frederika Begbedea je upravo ono što sam i očekivala na osnovu informacija koje o ovom piscu kruže. On je superstar, bez pretenzija da to bude u književnosti ukoliko ne bi donosilo pare ili popularnost. Kao i svaki prodavac magle, vrlo je inteligentan, duhovit, obrazovan... ukratko - manipulant svim farbama premazan. Ovaj moj utisak je na lepši način formulisao neimenovani kritičar "Lives hebdo" -a (umesto recenzije u "Booka"-inom izdanju koje sam čitala), rekavši da je u ovom svom romanu uspeo da izbegne sve zamke koju bi kritika mogla da mu postavi.
Nesumnjivo, ovo nije puko trućanje fancy bonvivana: sve je on lepo zapakovao, da se još lepše proda (ali i dopadne) raznim sortama čitalaca.
Svakako može da se tumači ova njegova knjiga: od ruganja Umbertu Eku ("Možda si ti pametan i načitan, al' ja se bolje zezam"), preko omaža Prustu ("klanjam ti se, al' to sad više ne može da prođe, a i da može ne bi se prodavalo") i alegorične slike (moderne) Francuske ("sve je to veliko foliranje, zašto bih ja izmišljao toplu vodu"). Možda najviše podseća na psihijatrijsku seansu zbog reminscencija na detinjstvo i mladost, paranomastično, naravno. (Ne sećam se ko reče da psihijatri pacijentima savetuju da pišu jer im je (psihijatrima) prihvatljivije da čitaju gluposti nego da svakog časa nailaze na prerezane vene.)
Dakle, nakon hapšenja zbog drogiranja na javnom mestu, nacionalni skandal majstor ima nekoliko (desetina) sati za razmišljenje o koje čemu.
Iako sam, možda, napravila grešku počevši od ovog romana (umesto redom, kako su pisani), beskrajno sam se zabavila.
Da, ima par momenata koje Francuz može da razume bolje nego ostali, ali uz uslov da je iz piščeve generacije. Mlađi čitaoci dobće isto što bismo i mi da se prevodilac više portudio.
Korektno.
Nesumnjivo, ovo nije puko trućanje fancy bonvivana: sve je on lepo zapakovao, da se još lepše proda (ali i dopadne) raznim sortama čitalaca.
Svakako može da se tumači ova njegova knjiga: od ruganja Umbertu Eku ("Možda si ti pametan i načitan, al' ja se bolje zezam"), preko omaža Prustu ("klanjam ti se, al' to sad više ne može da prođe, a i da može ne bi se prodavalo") i alegorične slike (moderne) Francuske ("sve je to veliko foliranje, zašto bih ja izmišljao toplu vodu"). Možda najviše podseća na psihijatrijsku seansu zbog reminscencija na detinjstvo i mladost, paranomastično, naravno. (Ne sećam se ko reče da psihijatri pacijentima savetuju da pišu jer im je (psihijatrima) prihvatljivije da čitaju gluposti nego da svakog časa nailaze na prerezane vene.)
Dakle, nakon hapšenja zbog drogiranja na javnom mestu, nacionalni skandal majstor ima nekoliko (desetina) sati za razmišljenje o koje čemu.
Iako sam, možda, napravila grešku počevši od ovog romana (umesto redom, kako su pisani), beskrajno sam se zabavila.
Da, ima par momenata koje Francuz može da razume bolje nego ostali, ali uz uslov da je iz piščeve generacije. Mlađi čitaoci dobće isto što bismo i mi da se prevodilac više portudio.
Korektno.
March 20, 2012
El libro es la autobiografía reconstruida del autor, Fréderic Beigbeder. El escritor es detenido una noche en las calles de Paris por consumo de cocaína. A partir de ahí, del encierro, el aburrimiento primero, y la claustrofobia después, comienza a tratar de recordar su infancia, pero el problema, él lo dice, es que sólo tiene un recuerdo en mente. Todo lo demás es olvido. Como una suerte de reconstrucción arqueológica, los recuerdos le van saltando de a poco y comienza así a reconstruir su vida, entre medio de cosas inventadas, pero que son lo que le quedará como relato para siempre. Lo más emocionante y lo que, a mi parecer, arma todo el libro, es cuando descubre que su olvido se debe a las cosas ocultas en su familia; a la ausencia de diálogo; y al esfuerzo fallido de los padres por hacer parecer que nada malo pasaba: "en voulant épargner leurs enfants, par amour, mes parents leur ont enseigné l´art de ne pas s´attacher". Un roman français es un libro hermoso, una reivindicación de la memoria, los recuerdos, la infancia y la vida en general.
September 22, 2019
A spoiled rich kid has to face consequences for his actions for the first time in his life and has an existential crisis over it. It leads him to think back on his childhood, which - not very surprisingly - turns out to be not that interesting.
Read
August 13, 2016Another book which just had to be read in the sunshine - anything else would have felt out of tune with the cover. Though, unlike those vintage beach babes, with a very uneven suntan due to a combination of reading and unglamorous aches and pains.
I'd read the blurb, but was so seduced by the cover that I still, illogically, expected lots of stuff about the French Riviera in the 60s. A grown up Bonjour Tristesse? But it's a history of the author and his family and their parallels with the history of France in the twentieth century, reflections "tender and ironic" prompted by his being arrested and imprisoned for two days when he and a poet mate blatantly snorted coke off a car bonnet at the roadside. A sort of potted French Min Kamp - Beigbeder and Knausgaard are of similar age and background, though Beigbeder's family was less troubled. This is much shorter than Karl Ove's Struggle, and with huge print like a book for ten-year olds. (Wonderful for reading with non-prescription sunglasses.) It was tipped for this year's Independent Foreign Fiction Prize but wasn't longlisted - and I was more interested in it than in some of the worthy, issue-filled texts that did make it.
So many popular reviewers on Goodreads would absolutely shred this book. Hopefully they just won't bother with it in the first place as the a/s/l of the author, plus lack of recs from approved sources, would put them off if they noticed it at all. (Way too many people read a ton of stuff they're obviously going to hate and write reviews which aren't funny. If I were anywhere near as good a writer as I wish I were, I'd try to apply a maxim of "Be nice or be funny. Or both." when it came to reviewing fiction, memoirs, and anything non-serious. Inaccurate factual books and crap intentionally didactic stories, however, deserve any kind of drubbing.)
Honestly, it was sometimes difficult to find my own response to A French Novel because I thought so often with an editor's head, of other, noisy, types of readers who'd hate it. Not having read more than a few pages of Knausgaard is a major handicap in reviewing and contextualising this. With that very significant proviso, I'm not sure this book would work for many people in an English-language readership - only those who are a) quite similar to the author or b) non-judgemental and open to listening to all kinds of people including those widely lambasted as privileged, in the manner of a person-centred counsellor. (I used to think much more of humanity was that nice before I read thousands of Goodreads reviews. Though I live in hope that the reviews are more a reflection of the sort of people who like ranting on the internet.) As far as I can gather, literary reflections on the angsts of a life that's well-off and untroubled by most people's standards need, in our language, to be written in an extraordinary way, preferably humourous, and/or couched in a detached, apologetic and perhaps theorised manner.
Beigbeder clearly knows how he may sound, especially later in the book: "I'm painfully aware that this whole thing is ridiculous, that I'm just a privileged child deprived of his comforts as punishment for his overgrown-rich-kid self-indulgence." Personally, I find it brave that, whilst realising this, he is upfront about articulating just how awful and frightening he finds the police cells. Undoubtedly, some writers would use the experience to observe the place and talk to everyone they could, people they wouldn't normally meet, but he's feeling too shaken for that. The descriptions would be called melodramatic, and I could hear a commentary in my head saying that another proper label for them was "mockable", even whilst I realised that this might be a manifestation of the cultural trope "big boys don't cry", that a woman might get a little more sympathy (those same readers would probably still call her spoilt). And even alongside memories of the time when an ex was similarly arrested, roughed up a bit, full body searched and held, (he'd done nothing but look scruffy and smell of booze on an inter-city coach) and came home a trembling wreck like I never saw him before or since, barely able to speak for a couple of days. And he was used to lowlife and grotty bedsits, so I don't doubt the experience was a shock for golden bad-boy Beigbeder.
He's evidently taking the piss out of himself at times, though: a couple of the conversations he has with cops (e.g. pp36-8) are, obviously intentionally, hilarious, sounding like smart-arse sixth formers citing the lives of famous dead authors and political principles as reasons for their actions. It's interesting how it's possible to agree with most of it in principle whilst a) noticing how daft it sounds if put even slightly the "wrong" way or explained in the wrong setting and b) thinking it was a stupid thing to do "at their age", making an incorrect assumption that if people needed an actual experience to realise they were subject to the law and what that might be like, then they would have got it over with by the time they left university.
It turns out it wasn't that easy to read A French Novel out in the sunshine. There were too many things I wanted to look up. These are references for serious Francophiles. Plenty of books I haven't read (not just that glaring gap Proust), several films I hadn't seen, and a plethora of pop-culture and politicians that would undoubtedly send a shiver down the spine of any French nostalgia-fiend born in, or fascinated by, the 60s and 70s. (As an English one I never got tired of thinking about how exciting some of these references must be to people my age or slightly older on the other side of the Channel, and of looking up these weird old cartoons, obscure dead singers and the like.)
As to the author's reflections on his family, there was some history there - not least because both sides were well-connected and public figures were sometimes in the house, not just on newsreels and TV. Most of it was like (well, is) the musings of someone who's about to start, or just starting, therapy for the first time, having not thought about the patterns and connections in their family before, and noticing various assumptions about life and people they've been making. (His family sounded like some of the more ostensibly normal families in this book; no-one's abusive or actually neglectful, but the parents were very wrapped up in their own hedonistic lives.) And it's expressed in a direct way you'd use when talking to good friends or a counsellor, rather than literarified for a critical audience. There is also an incredibly sweet chapter about his daughter. Mumsnet would undoubtedly dismss him a "Disney dad" - though unlike all the examples I've met, he's not actively trying to do something different and kinder from his own bad childhood - after all Beigbeder's was pretty okay and he knows it - he's just lazily repeating what his own dad did. Some of the French GR reviews praise the contrast of A French Novel's narrative with the arrogant characters in Beigbeder's earlier novels - I can see how that might make this book more likeable to some *imagines a series of French John Selfs*, and more interesting than it is as a standalone.
Probably one only for those who've read Beigbeder's earlier works, serious Francophiles, social-libertarian hedonists no longer in the first flush of youth (and who get accused of failing to grow up), or those interested in random personal psychological reflections at book length.
I'd read the blurb, but was so seduced by the cover that I still, illogically, expected lots of stuff about the French Riviera in the 60s. A grown up Bonjour Tristesse? But it's a history of the author and his family and their parallels with the history of France in the twentieth century, reflections "tender and ironic" prompted by his being arrested and imprisoned for two days when he and a poet mate blatantly snorted coke off a car bonnet at the roadside. A sort of potted French Min Kamp - Beigbeder and Knausgaard are of similar age and background, though Beigbeder's family was less troubled. This is much shorter than Karl Ove's Struggle, and with huge print like a book for ten-year olds. (Wonderful for reading with non-prescription sunglasses.) It was tipped for this year's Independent Foreign Fiction Prize but wasn't longlisted - and I was more interested in it than in some of the worthy, issue-filled texts that did make it.
So many popular reviewers on Goodreads would absolutely shred this book. Hopefully they just won't bother with it in the first place as the a/s/l of the author, plus lack of recs from approved sources, would put them off if they noticed it at all. (Way too many people read a ton of stuff they're obviously going to hate and write reviews which aren't funny. If I were anywhere near as good a writer as I wish I were, I'd try to apply a maxim of "Be nice or be funny. Or both." when it came to reviewing fiction, memoirs, and anything non-serious. Inaccurate factual books and crap intentionally didactic stories, however, deserve any kind of drubbing.)
Honestly, it was sometimes difficult to find my own response to A French Novel because I thought so often with an editor's head, of other, noisy, types of readers who'd hate it. Not having read more than a few pages of Knausgaard is a major handicap in reviewing and contextualising this. With that very significant proviso, I'm not sure this book would work for many people in an English-language readership - only those who are a) quite similar to the author or b) non-judgemental and open to listening to all kinds of people including those widely lambasted as privileged, in the manner of a person-centred counsellor. (I used to think much more of humanity was that nice before I read thousands of Goodreads reviews. Though I live in hope that the reviews are more a reflection of the sort of people who like ranting on the internet.) As far as I can gather, literary reflections on the angsts of a life that's well-off and untroubled by most people's standards need, in our language, to be written in an extraordinary way, preferably humourous, and/or couched in a detached, apologetic and perhaps theorised manner.
Beigbeder clearly knows how he may sound, especially later in the book: "I'm painfully aware that this whole thing is ridiculous, that I'm just a privileged child deprived of his comforts as punishment for his overgrown-rich-kid self-indulgence." Personally, I find it brave that, whilst realising this, he is upfront about articulating just how awful and frightening he finds the police cells. Undoubtedly, some writers would use the experience to observe the place and talk to everyone they could, people they wouldn't normally meet, but he's feeling too shaken for that. The descriptions would be called melodramatic, and I could hear a commentary in my head saying that another proper label for them was "mockable", even whilst I realised that this might be a manifestation of the cultural trope "big boys don't cry", that a woman might get a little more sympathy (those same readers would probably still call her spoilt). And even alongside memories of the time when an ex was similarly arrested, roughed up a bit, full body searched and held, (he'd done nothing but look scruffy and smell of booze on an inter-city coach) and came home a trembling wreck like I never saw him before or since, barely able to speak for a couple of days. And he was used to lowlife and grotty bedsits, so I don't doubt the experience was a shock for golden bad-boy Beigbeder.
He's evidently taking the piss out of himself at times, though: a couple of the conversations he has with cops (e.g. pp36-8) are, obviously intentionally, hilarious, sounding like smart-arse sixth formers citing the lives of famous dead authors and political principles as reasons for their actions. It's interesting how it's possible to agree with most of it in principle whilst a) noticing how daft it sounds if put even slightly the "wrong" way or explained in the wrong setting and b) thinking it was a stupid thing to do "at their age", making an incorrect assumption that if people needed an actual experience to realise they were subject to the law and what that might be like, then they would have got it over with by the time they left university.
It turns out it wasn't that easy to read A French Novel out in the sunshine. There were too many things I wanted to look up. These are references for serious Francophiles. Plenty of books I haven't read (not just that glaring gap Proust), several films I hadn't seen, and a plethora of pop-culture and politicians that would undoubtedly send a shiver down the spine of any French nostalgia-fiend born in, or fascinated by, the 60s and 70s. (As an English one I never got tired of thinking about how exciting some of these references must be to people my age or slightly older on the other side of the Channel, and of looking up these weird old cartoons, obscure dead singers and the like.)
As to the author's reflections on his family, there was some history there - not least because both sides were well-connected and public figures were sometimes in the house, not just on newsreels and TV. Most of it was like (well, is) the musings of someone who's about to start, or just starting, therapy for the first time, having not thought about the patterns and connections in their family before, and noticing various assumptions about life and people they've been making. (His family sounded like some of the more ostensibly normal families in this book; no-one's abusive or actually neglectful, but the parents were very wrapped up in their own hedonistic lives.) And it's expressed in a direct way you'd use when talking to good friends or a counsellor, rather than literarified for a critical audience. There is also an incredibly sweet chapter about his daughter. Mumsnet would undoubtedly dismss him a "Disney dad" - though unlike all the examples I've met, he's not actively trying to do something different and kinder from his own bad childhood - after all Beigbeder's was pretty okay and he knows it - he's just lazily repeating what his own dad did. Some of the French GR reviews praise the contrast of A French Novel's narrative with the arrogant characters in Beigbeder's earlier novels - I can see how that might make this book more likeable to some *imagines a series of French John Selfs*, and more interesting than it is as a standalone.
Probably one only for those who've read Beigbeder's earlier works, serious Francophiles, social-libertarian hedonists no longer in the first flush of youth (and who get accused of failing to grow up), or those interested in random personal psychological reflections at book length.
April 4, 2025
We all hit rock bottom at some point—the kind of moment that forces us to rewind, question everything, and search for where it all went wrong. For Frédéric Beigbeder, that moment came after being arrested at dawn for snorting cocaine off a car hood. What followed was 32 hours in a Paris jail cell—and A French Novel is the soul-searching, emotionally raw result.
Unlike his usual sarcastic, fast-paced, love-obsessed style, this book is stripped down, almost bare. It’s more autobiography than novel—a deep dive into the childhood he claims to have purposefully forgotten. He writes about emotional wounds, a complicated family, a perfect brother he both envies and admires, and the formative cracks that shaped the melancholic boy still hiding behind his grown-up smile.
This is Beigbeder with fewer jokes and more scars. While the wit and charm are still there in flashes, they’re dialed back. Gone are the aphorisms and alter egos like Marc and Oscar. What remains is just Frédéric, trying to make sense of himself—not asking for pity, not making excuses, but letting us peek behind the mask.
It’s not always easy to read. At times, he skates dangerously close to self-pity, but pulls back with just enough self-awareness and intelligence to keep things honest. His signature critiques of French society are still woven through, but more subtly than usual. This is a quieter, more introspective Beigbeder.
I wouldn't recommend starting here if you’re new to his work. A French Novel is more rewarding after reading his playful, provocative novels. But for longtime readers, it's an interesting shift—more personal, more vulnerable, and ultimately more human.
Unlike his usual sarcastic, fast-paced, love-obsessed style, this book is stripped down, almost bare. It’s more autobiography than novel—a deep dive into the childhood he claims to have purposefully forgotten. He writes about emotional wounds, a complicated family, a perfect brother he both envies and admires, and the formative cracks that shaped the melancholic boy still hiding behind his grown-up smile.
This is Beigbeder with fewer jokes and more scars. While the wit and charm are still there in flashes, they’re dialed back. Gone are the aphorisms and alter egos like Marc and Oscar. What remains is just Frédéric, trying to make sense of himself—not asking for pity, not making excuses, but letting us peek behind the mask.
It’s not always easy to read. At times, he skates dangerously close to self-pity, but pulls back with just enough self-awareness and intelligence to keep things honest. His signature critiques of French society are still woven through, but more subtly than usual. This is a quieter, more introspective Beigbeder.
I wouldn't recommend starting here if you’re new to his work. A French Novel is more rewarding after reading his playful, provocative novels. But for longtime readers, it's an interesting shift—more personal, more vulnerable, and ultimately more human.
February 11, 2017
Beigbeder a toujours été l'un de mes auteurs préférés. Depuis la lecture de 99 francs — je ne devais pas avoir plus de 13 ans — j'ai fait de ses romans les piliers de mon adolescence. J'adorais son cynisme et la débauche de ses personnages, tous plus brisés les uns que les autres. Ce n'était pas du Baudelaire mais c'était brut, et résonnait de vérité. Je ne parle pas au passé parce que je n'apprécie plus ses écrits, mais parce que je me suis un peu lassée des déboires d'Octave et de Marc, et je ne m'en suis rendu compte qu'en lisant Un roman français. Très différent de ses prédécesseurs et pourtant semblable, il reste fidèle aux névroses du personnage — à savoir Beigbeder lui-même — mais ne se contente pas de les dépeindre. Il les explique à la lumière d'une recherche de soi, une "recherche du temps perdu" qui empêche l'auteur de faire une nouvelle fois de lui-même sa propre caricature et en dévoile une facette dont les lecteurs se doutaient peut-être sans jamais avoir la certitude de son existence. Car si les alter egos de l'auteur se ressemblaient tous auparavant, Un roman français a au moins le mérite de tirer le voile sur, sans aucun doute, le plus important de tous. Evidemment, j'imagine que les circonstances dans lesquelles j'ai lu le livre ont beaucoup influencé mon avis. Peut-être l'aurais-je trouvé un brin ennuyeux il y a quelques années de cela, car je trouve la différence nettement palpable, mais on ne pourra plus reprocher à Beigbeder d'être unidimensionnel.
December 13, 2014
Не очаквах, че ще харесам творчеството на Бегбеде, предвид това какво знам за автора и с какво впечатление съм останала от публичния му имидж.
Въпреки това, реших да съм непредубедена и да разтворя тази книга с чисто сърце и ум и да видя какво има да предложи.
А то пък се оказа, че тя има да дава много. Честна и откровена до болка, разтваряща дебрите на душата - не само авторовата, но и на читателя. Този, който никога не можеш да излъжеш, никога не можеш да заблудиш в искреността си. И трябва да призная, че накрая се разчувствах - не мога да не симпатизирам на някого, толкова дълбоко обичащ детето си. Толкова, че да се разслои на съставни части и да изследва живота си, себе си, за да намери причината за провалите и загубите. Загубите, които не са само негови, а на цялото му семейство. За да разбере какви грешки е допуснал и до къде са довели те. Може би, за да не ги допуска отново?!
В момент на равносметка и преосмисляне на цялостната си същност, авторът иска тази книга да бъде смятана за първата му, за да може читателят да каже, че наистина го познава. Защото, сам признава, не е бил откровен в другите си книги, изграждал е образи-маски, зад които да крие провала си.
"Един френски роман" за оголването на човешката същност.
Препоръчвам с две ръце!
Въпреки това, реших да съм непредубедена и да разтворя тази книга с чисто сърце и ум и да видя какво има да предложи.
А то пък се оказа, че тя има да дава много. Честна и откровена до болка, разтваряща дебрите на душата - не само авторовата, но и на читателя. Този, който никога не можеш да излъжеш, никога не можеш да заблудиш в искреността си. И трябва да призная, че накрая се разчувствах - не мога да не симпатизирам на някого, толкова дълбоко обичащ детето си. Толкова, че да се разслои на съставни части и да изследва живота си, себе си, за да намери причината за провалите и загубите. Загубите, които не са само негови, а на цялото му семейство. За да разбере какви грешки е допуснал и до къде са довели те. Може би, за да не ги допуска отново?!
В момент на равносметка и преосмисляне на цялостната си същност, авторът иска тази книга да бъде смятана за първата му, за да може читателят да каже, че наистина го познава. Защото, сам признава, не е бил откровен в другите си книги, изграждал е образи-маски, зад които да крие провала си.
"Един френски роман" за оголването на човешката същност.
Препоръчвам с две ръце!
May 31, 2019
Много ми хареса, най-доброто от Бегбеде, което съм ч��ла досега. Бегбеде всъщност бил сантиментален самотник и особняк, колко хубаво!
Read
July 27, 2011A dire vrai, le personnage public de Frédéric Beigbeder ne m'a jamais véritablement passionné ... mais je dois avouer que je suis plutôt admiratif de sa plume. Après avoir littéralement dévoré "99 F" et surtout l'excellent "Windows on the World" (un peu plus déçu par "Au secours Pardon"), je me suis jeté sur "Un Roman Français" quelques jours après sa sortie. L'introspection de l'écrivain est superbement décrite : on gratte justement progressivement l'image mondaine du personnage, qui peut véritablement agacer. Certes, c'est une expérience personnelle qui est décrite. Mais elle fait écho à tellement de choses en nous ... Frédéric Beigbeder a presque 10 ans de plus que moi mais je comprends son message, je vois très bien les 70's qu'il décrit ... et surtout la playlist musicale qu'il égrène évoque tellement de choses en moi.
Donc, n'hésitez pas une seconde : le style n'est pas celui de Flaubert mais plutôt celui d'un fils de pub qui s'est nourri de littérature. Efficace tel un jingle qui vous rentre dans la tête.
Donc, n'hésitez pas une seconde : le style n'est pas celui de Flaubert mais plutôt celui d'un fils de pub qui s'est nourri de littérature. Efficace tel un jingle qui vous rentre dans la tête.
December 26, 2016
In this fictionalised autobiography, Frederic Beigbeder alternates between literary genius and the crass egomania of a "fils a papa". Some pages are nearly as compelling as Proust's "Recherche", but these are often drowned by the recurring (and frankly irritating) self-pity of an entitled upper-upper class child growing up in Paris in the 70s and 80s. Beigbeder is an incredibly gifted writer and an erudite -- he has read and absorbed all the classics -- but he is also particularly food of unjustified name-dropping and apt at recounting tales of vapid, cocaine-filled nights. He wants really badly to be Brett Easton Ellis, Proust and Michel Houellebecq all at once, and as such fails at being any of them. I would still recommend this book -- while Beigbeder's genius is scattered and comes at the most unexpected times, it definitely is there. And that's more that can be said for most French novelists these days...
June 10, 2017
Nije loše, ali može on i puno (puno) bolje.. Ovdje imamo Beigbederove reminiscencije o djetinjstvu, roditeljima, njihovom razvodu, odnosu s bratom, francuskoj buržoaziji i sl. .. Protkano, naravno, njegovim (inteligentnim) humorom i sarkazmom, ali kao što rekoh...Može on i bolje. Barem se meni tako čini kad usporedim ovu knjigu s njegovim ostalim uradcima.. ;)
January 4, 2019
C'est le roman le plus sincère de Fred, comme ils l'appellent ses proches! A l'image de l'homme seul, cynique et blasé de la vie, dont il a découvert les tentations bien trop tôt (dans 99 francs par exemple), "Un romain français" est un récit touchant qui vaut absolument la peine d'être lu!
February 9, 2017
Dông dài, hông châm biếm duyên dáng được như Kẻ ích kỉ lãng mạn.
May 17, 2022
ეს წიგნი არის გულახდილი და რომანტიკოსი ბეგბედერის ცხოვრების ჰაილაითების ნაკრები.
"მას მერე განუწყვეტლივ მოვიხმარ ლიტერატურას, როგორც დროის გაქრობის საშუალებას, ხოლო წერას, როგორც დროის დაჭერის ხერხს."
"წიგნი საშუალებაა იძლევა დაელაპარაკო მას, ვისთანაც ლაპარაკი არ შეგიძლია".
"წარსული შეიძლება დაივიწყო, მაგრამ თავს ვერ დააღწევ."
"მას მერე განუწყვეტლივ მოვიხმარ ლიტერატურას, როგორც დროის გაქრობის საშუალებას, ხოლო წერას, როგორც დროის დაჭერის ხერხს."
"წიგნი საშუალებაა იძლევა დაელაპარაკო მას, ვისთანაც ლაპარაკი არ შეგიძლია".
"წარსული შეიძლება დაივიწყო, მაგრამ თავს ვერ დააღწევ."
December 20, 2015
Ước gì mình đọc cuốn này đầu tiên trong tất cả các cuốn của Frederic Beigbeder . Ước gì đây là cuốn duy nhất của ổng mà mình đọc . Như thế thì trọn vẹn hơn nhiều . Đọc sách của Beigbeder giống như đến một bữa tiệc , gặp gỡ một tay chơi và phát hiện ra là anh ta không chỉ là một tay chơi . Anh ta thông minh , anh ta mắc chứng vĩ cuồng ám ảnh bản thân . Như thế cũng không sao cả . Vấn đề là anh ta nói lan man quá . Anh ta nói quá nhiều những điều thú vị thành ra nó trở nên không có miếng thú vị nào hết cả .
Một tiểu thuyết Pháp là cuốn duy nhất của Beigbeder mà mình đọc không có cảm giác hẫng . Nghĩa là càng về cuối càng có độ sâu chứ không lan man , kiểu như không còn gì để viết . Đoạn viết về những đứa trẻ có bố mẹ ly dị và khúc chơi ném thia lia với con gái chân tình và gây xúc động .
tóm lại là tác phẩm hay nhất trước giờ của Beigbeder . 3.5 sao .
Một tiểu thuyết Pháp là cuốn duy nhất của Beigbeder mà mình đọc không có cảm giác hẫng . Nghĩa là càng về cuối càng có độ sâu chứ không lan man , kiểu như không còn gì để viết . Đoạn viết về những đứa trẻ có bố mẹ ly dị và khúc chơi ném thia lia với con gái chân tình và gây xúc động .
tóm lại là tác phẩm hay nhất trước giờ của Beigbeder . 3.5 sao .
September 30, 2013
Suite à son interpellation à la sortie d'une boîte de nuit pour consommation de cocaïne, l'auteur est placé en garde à vue. Au cours de cette nuit d'emprisonnement, il tente de se rappeler les souvenirs de son enfance.
Dans un style radicalement différent de celui de ses précédents romans, Beigbeder signe ici un roman autobiographique. Simple et bien écrit, on est ému par l'évocation nostalgique de ses souvenirs d'enfance ou par ses relations avec les membres de sa famille, notamment son grand-frère et sa fille.
Un joli livre à lire, sans lien avec le reste de son oeuvre. Ce roman a obtenu le prix Renaudot en 2009.
Dans un style radicalement différent de celui de ses précédents romans, Beigbeder signe ici un roman autobiographique. Simple et bien écrit, on est ému par l'évocation nostalgique de ses souvenirs d'enfance ou par ses relations avec les membres de sa famille, notamment son grand-frère et sa fille.
Un joli livre à lire, sans lien avec le reste de son oeuvre. Ce roman a obtenu le prix Renaudot en 2009.
March 22, 2024
„Jeder glaubt, ich hätte mein Leben schon oft erzählt, dabei habe ich eben erst damit angefangen. Ich wünschte, dass dieses Buch gelesen wird, als wäre es mein erstes. Nicht dass ich meine früheren Werke verleugnen wollte, im Gegenteil, ich hoffe, dass man irgendwann einmal erkennt... blablabla. Nur habe ich bisher einen Mann beschrieben, der ich nicht bin, der ich gerne gewesen wäre, den arroganten Ver-führer, der, den der verklemmte Spießer in mir sich immer erträumt hat. Ehrlichkeit kam mir langweilig vor. Nun habe ich zum ersten Mal versucht, jemanden aus einer viel schlimmeren Gefangenschaft zu befreien.“
Dieser feinfühlige, melancholische autobiografische Roman ist zusammen mit 39,90 sein bestes Werk. Zwar ist der üblich provokante Witz, den man in jedem Roman von ihm kennt, vorhanden; man merkt jedoch sehr früh, dass diese Lektüre eine sehr viel ernstere ist. Im obigen Zitat deutet er etwas an, dass auch tatsächlich stimmt. Nach diesem Buch scheinen seine Bücher anders; kühler würd ich sagen. Es ist ganz und gar Beigbeders Geschichte, sein Roman, seine Familie, seine Erfahrungen, seine Vergangenheit, konstruiert aus seiner Sicht.
„Ich ahne, dass ich zahlreiche Verwandte, tot oder lebendig, hier verwickeln muss. Diese lieben Menschen haben nicht darum gebeten, in dieses Buch zu geraten wie in eine Razzia. Vermutlich hat jedes Leben so viele Versionen wie Erzähler - jeder hat seine Wahrheit; halten wir also von vornherein fest, dass dieser Bericht nur meine darstellt.“
Beigbeder versucht hier seine Kindheit zu rekonstruieren, da er sich nicht so recht an sie erinnern kann. Ohne Spannung aber mit viel Interesse folgt man, angefangen vom Familienstammbaum, über das Verhältnis zum größeren Bruder, über das Leben als Scheidungskind, bis zum Steine flitschen mit der Tochter, sein Leben und wie er wichtige Stationen kontextualisiert und bewertet. „Die einzige Hoffung, die ich an diesen Hechtsprung knüpfe, ist, dass Schreiben die Erinnerung weckt. Die Literatur erinnert sich an das, was wir vergessen haben: Schreiben heißt in sich selbst lesen.“
Aber nicht falsch verstehen. Es gibt hier trotzdem genug zynische Aphorismen a la Beigbeder, spitze und witzige Dialoge, wenn er zum Beispiel von einem Polizist verhört wird, weil er zuvor auf der Haube von einem Streifenwagen Koks gezogen hat:
„Ist es nicht beruhigend zu wissen, dass sich irgendwo in den Archiven der Bundespolizei eine Aussage befindet, in der ein gewisser Frederic Beigbeder erklärt, er intoxifiziere sich ,auf der Suche nach einem flüchtigen Glück‘? Ihre Steuern haben einen Zweck!“
Uneingeschränkte Leseempfehlung!
Gegen Ende ist mir auch ein Gedanke gekommen, der bereits bei der Lektüre von "Buddenbrooks" aufgetaucht ist: Warum lese ich eigentlich? Oft suche ich nach mir selbst in den Werken, als könnten klügere Menschen in schönen Worten pointiert zuspitzen, was mich an mir und eigentlich auch am ganzen Rest stört. Ich suche oft nach Ähnlichkeiten, Überschneidungspunkte bei den Charakteren, um mich mit ihnen identifizieren zu können. Doch bei den "Buddenbrooks" und vor allem hier ist mir aufgefallen, dass die Fremdheitserfahrung einen ungemein größeren Gewinn für mich darstellen kann. Ich bin nämlich recht arm in Deutschland aufgewachsen, aber trotzdem behütet und sicher. Weiter weg als von einer großbürgerlichen Kaufmannsfamilie kann ich nicht sein, aber trotzdem war ich fasziniert und gefesselt. Und auch hier in Frankreich: Beigbeder ist wohlhabend und behütet aufgewachsen, und auch wenn es Ähnlichkeiten zu meiner Kindheit gibt (Scheidungskinder), ist es gerade die Divergenz und der Umgang sowie das Leben, das daraus entstanden ist und welches Frédéric Beigbeder hier mit viel Fingerspitzengefühl nachzeichnet, das diesen Roman so wertvoll macht.
Dieser feinfühlige, melancholische autobiografische Roman ist zusammen mit 39,90 sein bestes Werk. Zwar ist der üblich provokante Witz, den man in jedem Roman von ihm kennt, vorhanden; man merkt jedoch sehr früh, dass diese Lektüre eine sehr viel ernstere ist. Im obigen Zitat deutet er etwas an, dass auch tatsächlich stimmt. Nach diesem Buch scheinen seine Bücher anders; kühler würd ich sagen. Es ist ganz und gar Beigbeders Geschichte, sein Roman, seine Familie, seine Erfahrungen, seine Vergangenheit, konstruiert aus seiner Sicht.
„Ich ahne, dass ich zahlreiche Verwandte, tot oder lebendig, hier verwickeln muss. Diese lieben Menschen haben nicht darum gebeten, in dieses Buch zu geraten wie in eine Razzia. Vermutlich hat jedes Leben so viele Versionen wie Erzähler - jeder hat seine Wahrheit; halten wir also von vornherein fest, dass dieser Bericht nur meine darstellt.“
Beigbeder versucht hier seine Kindheit zu rekonstruieren, da er sich nicht so recht an sie erinnern kann. Ohne Spannung aber mit viel Interesse folgt man, angefangen vom Familienstammbaum, über das Verhältnis zum größeren Bruder, über das Leben als Scheidungskind, bis zum Steine flitschen mit der Tochter, sein Leben und wie er wichtige Stationen kontextualisiert und bewertet. „Die einzige Hoffung, die ich an diesen Hechtsprung knüpfe, ist, dass Schreiben die Erinnerung weckt. Die Literatur erinnert sich an das, was wir vergessen haben: Schreiben heißt in sich selbst lesen.“
Aber nicht falsch verstehen. Es gibt hier trotzdem genug zynische Aphorismen a la Beigbeder, spitze und witzige Dialoge, wenn er zum Beispiel von einem Polizist verhört wird, weil er zuvor auf der Haube von einem Streifenwagen Koks gezogen hat:
„Ist es nicht beruhigend zu wissen, dass sich irgendwo in den Archiven der Bundespolizei eine Aussage befindet, in der ein gewisser Frederic Beigbeder erklärt, er intoxifiziere sich ,auf der Suche nach einem flüchtigen Glück‘? Ihre Steuern haben einen Zweck!“
Uneingeschränkte Leseempfehlung!
Gegen Ende ist mir auch ein Gedanke gekommen, der bereits bei der Lektüre von "Buddenbrooks" aufgetaucht ist: Warum lese ich eigentlich? Oft suche ich nach mir selbst in den Werken, als könnten klügere Menschen in schönen Worten pointiert zuspitzen, was mich an mir und eigentlich auch am ganzen Rest stört. Ich suche oft nach Ähnlichkeiten, Überschneidungspunkte bei den Charakteren, um mich mit ihnen identifizieren zu können. Doch bei den "Buddenbrooks" und vor allem hier ist mir aufgefallen, dass die Fremdheitserfahrung einen ungemein größeren Gewinn für mich darstellen kann. Ich bin nämlich recht arm in Deutschland aufgewachsen, aber trotzdem behütet und sicher. Weiter weg als von einer großbürgerlichen Kaufmannsfamilie kann ich nicht sein, aber trotzdem war ich fasziniert und gefesselt. Und auch hier in Frankreich: Beigbeder ist wohlhabend und behütet aufgewachsen, und auch wenn es Ähnlichkeiten zu meiner Kindheit gibt (Scheidungskinder), ist es gerade die Divergenz und der Umgang sowie das Leben, das daraus entstanden ist und welches Frédéric Beigbeder hier mit viel Fingerspitzengefühl nachzeichnet, das diesen Roman so wertvoll macht.
June 30, 2013
El libro que el francés Frédéric Beigbeder se negaba a escribir al fin lo ha hecho. Fréderic se hizo mundialmente conocido con tres de sus obras “Windows on the World”, “El amor dura tres años” y “13,99 euros” con esta ultima logra que lo despidieran de manera inmediata de la empresa de publicidad para la que el tenía años laborando como uno de sus principales creativos. Gracias a Editorial Anagrama hemos podido disfrutar gran parte de su trabajo como uno de los más interesantes escritores contemporáneos.
“Una novela francesa” es un ejercicio interesante de escribir una biografía sin querer hacerlo pero las circunstancias lo llevan a ello. Un prefacio de su amigo y agitador profesional de las palabras y las sociedades Michel Houellebecq nos introduce a esta novela cuyo nombre se inspira y roza simbólicamente a Emma Bovary, Houellebecq nos comenta que encontraremos una novela honesta y hermosa, la historia de un ser humano común que ha vivido excesos y frustraciones, que nos enseña que realmente los únicos momentos felices que vamos a vivir en el viaje de nuestras vidas es la niñez.
Frédéric Beigbeder es el niño malo de la familia, la oveja negra; mientras su hermano recibe una medalla al merito de manos del Presidente de Francia Beigdeger es encarcelado por consumo de cocaína en plena calle sobre el capó de un automóvil al salir de una discoteca, imitando al personaje de la novela “Lunar Park” de Bret Easton Ellis; Beigdeger es el que no sigue las normas y quiere ser un coñazo a la sociedad francesa. Durante su retención decide emplear y ocupar su mente en escribir mentalmente esta novela francesa, intenta hacer memoria de los hechos y los caminos que ha tomado en su vida que lo han llevado hasta esa celda, el gran problema es que descubre que su memoria no funciona como realmente desea, las raíces de sus memorias y recuerdos están secas y casi en su totalidad se encuentra vacío. “Una Novela Francesa” se escribe para cazar y buscar esos recuerdos que su vida ha ido ocultando y que gracias a los excesos se van perdiendo.
Un clamor a la familia, a las generaciones que cambian, a la familia que se va y que nos deja solo un nombre que recordar, de cómo transmitimos como un virus lo que nos enseñan de pequeños nuestros padres y abuelos, de cómo sus decisiones nos ponen caminos por delante y casi siempre vamos a ir por el menos correcto, ya dependerá de nosotros ir corrigiendo a medida que avanzamos. En “Una Novela Francesa” a medida que leemos los recuerdos van saliendo, una felicidad cuando niño muy breve, de cómo una epistaxis lo marcaba a cualquier lugar que iba, los recuerdos de una niñez en pleno mayo 68 y las memorias de su abuelo patriota en plena guerra, el divorcio de sus padres y las mentiras con las que durante años ha sido alimentado, su interés por los libros antes que por la misma vida que lo ayudan a ocultarse del resto del planeta; a medida que se avanza vamos encontrando una vida normal como cualquier otra pero que al estar tan bien contada nos invita a vivir sus recuerdos a medida que van apareciendo.
Momentos muy interesantes son la larga conversación con uno de los policías sobre sus razones para consumir cocaína, una posición bastante peculiar ante el nuevo fascismo de lo políticamente correcto; de cómo las sociedades cada día nos eliminan nuestras libertades y una visión en general de cómo cada día somos mas apresados por lo que algunos consideran correcto.
Según palabras del propio Beigdeger su vida ha sido una decadencia con turbación y que su deseo de morir joven como sus escritores favoritos siempre estuvo allí pero que a pesar de esa decadencia y vacío que llega a sentir durante casi toda su vida y cada recuerdo también se encuentra anclado por un amor incondicional a su madre y a su hija.
“Una Novela Francesa” se lee de manera rápida, una biografía sencilla, simple pero muy directa. Beigdeger no nos enseña algo que nos interese realmente, pero si nos demuestra que básicamente cada una de nuestras vidas son solo eso novelas francesas que debemos saber contar para que sean inolvidables y que si logramos plasmar los nombres de nuestra familia y de quienes nos acompañan en vida en un libro desde ese momento se hacen inmortales.
http://bitacoradelscriptorium.blogspo...
July 25, 2014
Dans ce roman Beigbeder joue un enfant mignon, rougissant et espiègle. Mais toujours très honnête. Parfois vous vous reconnaissez en lui. Autre fois vous lui dites 'Non, vous vous trompez, mon ami.' Il est difficile de différer la fiction de la réalité, le héros de l’auteur. Bah, c'est un roman au bout du compte. Mais c’est définitivement un roman français.
À la fin on se demande qui est le vrai Beigbeder? Et on ne trouve pas la réponse définitive parce que telle est la mission des soldats et des écrivains.
Един френски роман от един различен Бегбеде – благозвучен, любящ и носталгичен. Дали защото се е върнал в детството или защото никога не го е напускал? Или пък вече е усетил удоволствието да бъдеш баща? Да виждаш своето детство през очите на детето си. Вероятно заради всичко това.
Най-сетне Бегбеде се захваща с нещо, което не е правил досега – да бъде автобиограф: „Да пишеш означава да четеш себе си.” Детството е роман, който трябва да се измисли отново, за да подредиш спомените си като в библиотека, където ще останат за поколенията.
Този роман е един гигантски оксиморон, сблъскващ непрекъснато антитези, извеждащ те неусетно от началното добре обосновано твърдение до точно противоположното му опровержение в края, в което пак не си убеден напълно. В него Бегбеде е играещо дете, симпатично, вечно изчервяващо се и дяволито, в което ту виждаш себе си, ту пък му казваш: „Тц, не си прав, приятелю.” И ти е трудно да направиш разлика между фикция и реалност, между герой и автор. Та това е роман, по дяволите.
В края на романа се питаме кой е истинският Бегбеде? И няма да намерим отговор, защото такава е мисията на войниците и на писателите.
„Ние умираме за вас, без да сме от вашите.”
Ако още ви се чете:http://knizhka-s-mishka.eu/
À la fin on se demande qui est le vrai Beigbeder? Et on ne trouve pas la réponse définitive parce que telle est la mission des soldats et des écrivains.
Един френски роман от един различен Бегбеде – благозвучен, любящ и носталгичен. Дали защото се е върнал в детството или защото никога не го е напускал? Или пък вече е усетил удоволствието да бъдеш баща? Да виждаш своето детство през очите на детето си. Вероятно заради всичко това.
Най-сетне Бегбеде се захваща с нещо, което не е правил досега – да бъде автобиограф: „Да пишеш означава да четеш себе си.” Детството е роман, който трябва да се измисли отново, за да подредиш спомените си като в библиотека, където ще останат за поколенията.
Този роман е един гигантски оксиморон, сблъскващ непрекъснато антитези, извеждащ те неусетно от началното добре обосновано твърдение до точно противоположното му опровержение в края, в което пак не си убеден напълно. В него Бегбеде е играещо дете, симпатично, вечно изчервяващо се и дяволито, в което ту виждаш себе си, ту пък му казваш: „Тц, не си прав, приятелю.” И ти е трудно да направиш разлика между фикция и реалност, между герой и автор. Та това е роман, по дяволите.
В края на романа се питаме кой е истинският Бегбеде? И няма да намерим отговор, защото такава е мисията на войниците и на писателите.
„Ние умираме за вас, без да сме от вашите.”
Ако още ви се чете:http://knizhka-s-mishka.eu/
October 18, 2017
Mình đọc không hiểu ý tác giả lắm. Nhưng cuốn này đọc lúc thì buồn cười, lúc lại buồn, mà có lúc rõ là cười đấy nhưng hóa ra là buồn thiu đi được. Đây là một đoạn vừa buồn cười vừa buồn như vậy:
"- Bố ơi, tại sao bố không ở cùng mẹ nữa?
Tôi đã trả lời như thế này:
- À... Bởi vì đời là như thế mà... Con thì bố sẽ mãi mãi yêu nhưng với mẹ con, thì phức tạp lắm...
- Mẹ nói tối nào bố cũng đi chơi, bố rất độc ác và chính vì vậy mẹ đã bắt bố phải đi.
- Không, không... À mà đúng... Thật ra thì bố mẹ cãi nhau rất nhiều vì một người khác...
- ...bố đã bỏ đi với cô Amélie phải không?
- Đúng...
- Và rồi sau đó bố bỏ cô Amélie vì cô Laura, rồi bỏ cô Laura vì cô Priscilla?
- À... Mọi việc không đơn giản như thế đâu...
- Thế thì bố khác gì con yêu Râu Xanh đâu!
- Không! Râu Xanh bóp cổ phụ nữ cơ mà!
- Bố là yêu Râu Xanh! Bố của con là yêu Râu Xanh! "
"- Bố ơi, tại sao bố không ở cùng mẹ nữa?
Tôi đã trả lời như thế này:
- À... Bởi vì đời là như thế mà... Con thì bố sẽ mãi mãi yêu nhưng với mẹ con, thì phức tạp lắm...
- Mẹ nói tối nào bố cũng đi chơi, bố rất độc ác và chính vì vậy mẹ đã bắt bố phải đi.
- Không, không... À mà đúng... Thật ra thì bố mẹ cãi nhau rất nhiều vì một người khác...
- ...bố đã bỏ đi với cô Amélie phải không?
- Đúng...
- Và rồi sau đó bố bỏ cô Amélie vì cô Laura, rồi bỏ cô Laura vì cô Priscilla?
- À... Mọi việc không đơn giản như thế đâu...
- Thế thì bố khác gì con yêu Râu Xanh đâu!
- Không! Râu Xanh bóp cổ phụ nữ cơ mà!
- Bố là yêu Râu Xanh! Bố của con là yêu Râu Xanh! "
July 9, 2020
Jéžiš toto letí! Přijde mi to jako včera, když jsem dočetl tuhle knihu a pal si: “Peči, nebuď lenivej a napiš další skvělou recenzi, na kterou budou pršet lajky jak kapky deště a ty voláš ať prší ještě než zapomeneš o čem to bylo!”
A to bylo v červnu. Teď je červenec a tady střípky, co si pamatuju: Béžabéďa koksuje z kapoty auta, jde na dva dny do basy a píše autobiografický počin, kterej se mi líbil za 9/10. Škoda, že si nepamatuju víc, muselo to bejt skvělý, když jsem tomu poslal 9/10!
A to bylo v červnu. Teď je červenec a tady střípky, co si pamatuju: Béžabéďa koksuje z kapoty auta, jde na dva dny do basy a píše autobiografický počin, kterej se mi líbil za 9/10. Škoda, že si nepamatuju víc, muselo to bejt skvělý, když jsem tomu poslal 9/10!
April 5, 2014
Beautifully written; funny and sarcastic; honest and emotional. A portrait of a man, some of it may be true, of a father and a son. This book spoke to me unlike any other I have read for a long time. I recommend this greatly for the fact that it paints a picture of life that is completely believable.
May 31, 2012
Un de ses romans qui est le plus intime, le plus profond et celui qui est le moins vulgaire et sexué !
April 6, 2014
ჯერ არ დამიმთავრებია,მაგრამ უკვე ვიცი რომ არ მომწონს. საშინლად მოსაწყენია და ალბათ კიდე კარგა ხანს ვერ დავამთავრებ.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 234 reviews