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Le parfum des fleurs la nuit
Comme un écrivain qui pense que « toute audace véritable vient de l’intérieur », Leïla Slimani n’aime pas sortir de chez elle, et préfère la solitude à la distraction. Pourquoi alors accepter cette proposition d’une nuit blanche à la pointe de la Douane, à Venise, dans les collections d’art de la Fondation Pinault, qui ne lui parlent guère ?
Autour de cette « impossibilité » d’un livre, avec un art subtil de digresser dans la nuit vénitienne, Leila Slimani nous parle d’elle, de l’enfermement, du mouvement, du voyage, de l’intimité, de l’identité, de l’entre-deux, entre Orient et Occident, où elle navigue et chaloupe, comme Venise à la pointe de la Douane, comme la cité sur pilotis vouée à la destruction et à la beauté, s’enrichissant et empruntant, silencieuse et raconteuse à la fois.
C’est une confession discrète, où l’auteure parle de son père jadis emprisonné, mais c’est une confession pudique, qui n’appuie jamais, légère, grave, toujours à sa juste place : « Écrire, c’est jouer avec le silence, c’est dire, de manière détournée, des secrets indicibles dans la vie réelle ».
C’est aussi un livre, intense, éclairé de l’intérieur, sur la disparition du beau, et donc sur l’urgence d’en jouir, la splendeur de l’éphémère. Leila Slimani cite Duras : « Écrire, c’est ça aussi, sans doute, c’est effacer. Remplacer. » Au petit matin, l’auteure, réveillée et consciente, sort de l’édifice comme d’un rêve, et il ne reste plus rien de cette nuit que le parfum des fleurs. Et un livre.
Autour de cette « impossibilité » d’un livre, avec un art subtil de digresser dans la nuit vénitienne, Leila Slimani nous parle d’elle, de l’enfermement, du mouvement, du voyage, de l’intimité, de l’identité, de l’entre-deux, entre Orient et Occident, où elle navigue et chaloupe, comme Venise à la pointe de la Douane, comme la cité sur pilotis vouée à la destruction et à la beauté, s’enrichissant et empruntant, silencieuse et raconteuse à la fois.
C’est une confession discrète, où l’auteure parle de son père jadis emprisonné, mais c’est une confession pudique, qui n’appuie jamais, légère, grave, toujours à sa juste place : « Écrire, c’est jouer avec le silence, c’est dire, de manière détournée, des secrets indicibles dans la vie réelle ».
C’est aussi un livre, intense, éclairé de l’intérieur, sur la disparition du beau, et donc sur l’urgence d’en jouir, la splendeur de l’éphémère. Leila Slimani cite Duras : « Écrire, c’est ça aussi, sans doute, c’est effacer. Remplacer. » Au petit matin, l’auteure, réveillée et consciente, sort de l’édifice comme d’un rêve, et il ne reste plus rien de cette nuit que le parfum des fleurs. Et un livre.
139 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 20, 2021
141 people are currently reading
3717 people want to read
About the author
Leïla Slimani
65 books3,815 followersLeïla Slimani is a French writer and journalist of Moroccan ancestry. In 2016 she was awarded the Prix Goncourt for her novel Chanson douce.
Slimani was born in Rabat, Morocco and studied later political science and media studies in Paris. After that she temporarily considered a career as an actress and began to work as a journalist for the magazine Jeune Afrique. In 2014 she published her first novel Dans le jardin de l’ogre, which two years later was followed by the psychological thriller Chanson douce. The latter quickly turned into a bestseller with over 450,000 copies printed within a year even before the book was awarded the Prix Goncourt.
Slimani was born in Rabat, Morocco and studied later political science and media studies in Paris. After that she temporarily considered a career as an actress and began to work as a journalist for the magazine Jeune Afrique. In 2014 she published her first novel Dans le jardin de l’ogre, which two years later was followed by the psychological thriller Chanson douce. The latter quickly turned into a bestseller with over 450,000 copies printed within a year even before the book was awarded the Prix Goncourt.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 506 reviews
September 25, 2023
Écrire a été pour moi une entreprise de réparation. Réparation intime, liée à l’injustice dont a été victime mon père. Je voulais réparer toutes les infamies : celles liées à ma famille mais aussi à mon peuple et à mon sexe. Réparation aussi de mon sentiment de n’appartenir à rien, de ne parler pour personne, de vivre dans un non-lieu. J’ai pu penser que l’écriture me procurerait une identité stable, qu’elle me permettrait en tout cas de m’inventer, de me définir hors du regard des autres. Mais j’ai compris que ce fantasme était une illusion. Être écrivain, pour moi, c’est au contraire se condamner à vivre en marge. Plus j’écris et plus je me sens excommuniée, étrangère. Je m’enferme des jours et des nuits pour tenter de dire ces sentiments de honte, de malaise, de solitude, qui me traversent. Je vis sur une île non pas pour fuir les autres mais pour les contempler et assouvir ainsi la passion que j’ai pour eux. Je ne sais pas si écrire m’a sauvé la vie. Je me méfie, en général, de ce genre de formulation. J’aurais survécu sans être écrivain. Mais je ne suis pas sûre que j’aurais été heureuse.
I have such a book-love for Slimani and this non-fictional exploration of her life and writing sealed the deal. Spending a night in an art gallery in Venice is the premise but it's not so much the art which acts as inspiration and catalyst for Slimani's meditations as the sense of being alone in such a public space, one designed for crowds and interaction.
Drawing connections between solitude and creativity, literature and politics, Slimani asserts her writing as compulsion and as political reparation. What is so striking is the vulnerability that she places on show: her journeying is internal and interior, questioning and revealing. From the episode of her father being imprisoned for fraud and his consequent death, to her feelings about gender, racial identity and colonialism, this feels sensitised and troubled. It's notable how many times the concept of fear is mentioned, and the tension between what is culturally imposed on her and what she might construe for herself.
With insights into her childhood in Morocco, this is especially productive read alongside her current trilogy (Le pays des autres/The Country of Others, and Regardez-nous danser/Watch Us Dance, with the final volume still to come), and is also instructive on Slimani's own dialogues with other writers and texts: Salman Rushdie, to whom the book is dedicated; Virginia Woolf; Marguerite Duras; Joyce Carol Oates' Blonde about Marilyn Monroe.
Fascinating, intimate, thoughtful - this is a revealing and essentially unfinished conversation between a writer and her readers.
April 18, 2023
Adroit yet accessible The Scent of Flowers at Night is a short but thought-provoking read that manages to explore a wide range of topics with insight and emotional intelligence.
Leïla Slimani’s The Scent of Flowers at Night really resonated with me, in particular, when it came to the author's exploration of the intersection between creativity and solitude; while she does, like many other authors, mystify her profession and craft, I did not find her observations and conclusions far-fetched or obnoxious, especially since her view of authors and writing leads to some truly compelling discussions on belonging, aloneness, otherness, and privilege. She is particularly aware of the circumstances that led to her being able to ‘become’ a writer, and I appreciated how honest she was when reflecting on the role of her father’s death in her being able to pursue her writing. She demonstrates a perspective and critical mind, and her self-awareness allows her to consider ‘uncomfortable’ truths, about herself, her family, society, and history. I liked how Slimani's writing seemed in conversation with that of other writers, from considering the authors who shaped her to giving us glimpses into their lives.
While Slimani does write about art and museums, knowledge and beauty, the Punta della Dogana Museum remains a mere backdrop to her various acts of introspection. Slimani does acknowledge that as an author she doesn’t have much to contribute when it comes to writing about Venice but I did feel this was a bit of a cop-out given that she does have very little to say about Venice. Another small quibble is the comparison between Native Americans and the dwindling population of Venice, I mean, not only was it in really really really bad taste but it made little sense.
Slimani’s contemplations on solitude, creativity, identity, heritage, migration, and art, were captivating and I found myself inspired by her words. This type of reading will definitely appeal to readers who enjoy Jhumpa Lahiri, Zadie Smith, and Elena Ferrante's nonfiction.
I found Slimani’s recollections of her past, her reflecting on her experiences as a Moroccan woman, first in Morocco and then in France, as a daughter to a Moroccan-French mother and a Moroccan father, and, most of all, as an author to be insightful. I will definitely be revisiting this.
Leïla Slimani’s The Scent of Flowers at Night really resonated with me, in particular, when it came to the author's exploration of the intersection between creativity and solitude; while she does, like many other authors, mystify her profession and craft, I did not find her observations and conclusions far-fetched or obnoxious, especially since her view of authors and writing leads to some truly compelling discussions on belonging, aloneness, otherness, and privilege. She is particularly aware of the circumstances that led to her being able to ‘become’ a writer, and I appreciated how honest she was when reflecting on the role of her father’s death in her being able to pursue her writing. She demonstrates a perspective and critical mind, and her self-awareness allows her to consider ‘uncomfortable’ truths, about herself, her family, society, and history. I liked how Slimani's writing seemed in conversation with that of other writers, from considering the authors who shaped her to giving us glimpses into their lives.
While Slimani does write about art and museums, knowledge and beauty, the Punta della Dogana Museum remains a mere backdrop to her various acts of introspection. Slimani does acknowledge that as an author she doesn’t have much to contribute when it comes to writing about Venice but I did feel this was a bit of a cop-out given that she does have very little to say about Venice. Another small quibble is the comparison between Native Americans and the dwindling population of Venice, I mean, not only was it in really really really bad taste but it made little sense.
Slimani’s contemplations on solitude, creativity, identity, heritage, migration, and art, were captivating and I found myself inspired by her words. This type of reading will definitely appeal to readers who enjoy Jhumpa Lahiri, Zadie Smith, and Elena Ferrante's nonfiction.
I found Slimani’s recollections of her past, her reflecting on her experiences as a Moroccan woman, first in Morocco and then in France, as a daughter to a Moroccan-French mother and a Moroccan father, and, most of all, as an author to be insightful. I will definitely be revisiting this.
February 18, 2023
Une nuit blanche en avril 2019.
French Moroccan writer Leïla Slimani (Chanson douce) had been invited to view an exhibition of contemporary art in the Collection Pinault at La Punta della Dogana, Venice.
While viewing the work of American artist Roni Horn, French artist Philippe Parreno and Lebanese American poet and artist Etel Adnan, something triggers a flood of memories. Her life, her art, her culture. She opens up.
What does it mean to be an expatriate, a foreigner, a stranger in one’s new country? Old country? She never felt a stranger in France but going back to Morocco is another matter.
« Tu sais ce qu’il y a de mauvais dans ton cas? C’est que tu es un expatrié […] On ne t’avait jamais dit ça? Ceux qui ont quitté leur pays n’ont jamais rien écrit qui vaille la peine d’être imprimé », écrit Hemingway dans Le Soleil se lève aussi. P. 129
On writing, recalling those moments, the observer, to record what one sees,
« La littérature est un art de la rétention. On se retient comme dans les premiers moments de l’amour quand nous viennent à l’esprit des phrases banales, des déclarations enflammées que l’on se force à ne pas dire pour ne pas abîmer la beauté du moment ». p. 29
Writing as a battle,
« Garder courage, en sachant au préalable qu’on sera vaincu et aller au combat : c’est ça la littérature». p. 68
Roberto Bolaño
On the night,
« Je m’appelle la nuit. Tel est le sens de mon prénom, Leïla, en arab ». p. 71
On our ephemeral existence,
« Je pense à ce qu’écrit Roland Barthes dans son Journal de deuil: « Je vis les hirondelles voler dans le soir d’été. Je me dis […]quelle barbarie de ne pas croire aux âmes! Quelle imbécile vérité que le matérielisme! » p. 88
Colonialism and the race issue,
« L’homme ne se souvient pas de la enfant; pourtant, la main qui l’a frappé, de l’ombre qui l’a effrayé enfant; pourtant, la main et l’ombre demeurent avec lui, inséparables de lui pour toujours, une part de la passion qui le pousse chaque fois qu’il songe à prendre son envol », écrit James Baldwin dans Chroniques d’un enfant du pays ». p. 134
She reflects on her father, a banker who was convicted of fraud in Morocco and spent time in prison, only to get sick and die a few years later. A tough but honest reflection.
« J’ai toujours une certaine réticence, une distance, je ne me plonge jamais entièrement dans ces pensées-la, je ne m’autorise aucun abandon. » p. 123
She talks about Salman Rushdie. When she was eight, the fatwa was pronounced on him, and being raised a Muslim, she despised him. As she grew and found literature, her views changed, realizing they had similar paths, the outsider trying to fit in by telling stories of their worlds. For this she dedicates the book to him. No better praise.
A lot of deep thought spurred on by one nuit blanche. A beautiful read.
I love the title!
An update: today, 18 F 2023, I read that Slimani has moved to Lisboa after life was become too challenging in Paris. It appears that she was bullied on social media and racism was at the center of her decision to leave. Here is a link to the article.
La escritora Leila Slimani: “Lleva muchísimo tiempo descolonizar los cuerpos, las mentes, los lugares” - https://elpais.com/eps/2023-02-18/lei...
French Moroccan writer Leïla Slimani (Chanson douce) had been invited to view an exhibition of contemporary art in the Collection Pinault at La Punta della Dogana, Venice.
While viewing the work of American artist Roni Horn, French artist Philippe Parreno and Lebanese American poet and artist Etel Adnan, something triggers a flood of memories. Her life, her art, her culture. She opens up.
What does it mean to be an expatriate, a foreigner, a stranger in one’s new country? Old country? She never felt a stranger in France but going back to Morocco is another matter.
« Tu sais ce qu’il y a de mauvais dans ton cas? C’est que tu es un expatrié […] On ne t’avait jamais dit ça? Ceux qui ont quitté leur pays n’ont jamais rien écrit qui vaille la peine d’être imprimé », écrit Hemingway dans Le Soleil se lève aussi. P. 129
On writing, recalling those moments, the observer, to record what one sees,
« La littérature est un art de la rétention. On se retient comme dans les premiers moments de l’amour quand nous viennent à l’esprit des phrases banales, des déclarations enflammées que l’on se force à ne pas dire pour ne pas abîmer la beauté du moment ». p. 29
Writing as a battle,
« Garder courage, en sachant au préalable qu’on sera vaincu et aller au combat : c’est ça la littérature». p. 68
Roberto Bolaño
On the night,
« Je m’appelle la nuit. Tel est le sens de mon prénom, Leïla, en arab ». p. 71
On our ephemeral existence,
« Je pense à ce qu’écrit Roland Barthes dans son Journal de deuil: « Je vis les hirondelles voler dans le soir d’été. Je me dis […]quelle barbarie de ne pas croire aux âmes! Quelle imbécile vérité que le matérielisme! » p. 88
Colonialism and the race issue,
« L’homme ne se souvient pas de la enfant; pourtant, la main qui l’a frappé, de l’ombre qui l’a effrayé enfant; pourtant, la main et l’ombre demeurent avec lui, inséparables de lui pour toujours, une part de la passion qui le pousse chaque fois qu’il songe à prendre son envol », écrit James Baldwin dans Chroniques d’un enfant du pays ». p. 134
She reflects on her father, a banker who was convicted of fraud in Morocco and spent time in prison, only to get sick and die a few years later. A tough but honest reflection.
« J’ai toujours une certaine réticence, une distance, je ne me plonge jamais entièrement dans ces pensées-la, je ne m’autorise aucun abandon. » p. 123
She talks about Salman Rushdie. When she was eight, the fatwa was pronounced on him, and being raised a Muslim, she despised him. As she grew and found literature, her views changed, realizing they had similar paths, the outsider trying to fit in by telling stories of their worlds. For this she dedicates the book to him. No better praise.
A lot of deep thought spurred on by one nuit blanche. A beautiful read.
I love the title!
An update: today, 18 F 2023, I read that Slimani has moved to Lisboa after life was become too challenging in Paris. It appears that she was bullied on social media and racism was at the center of her decision to leave. Here is a link to the article.
La escritora Leila Slimani: “Lleva muchísimo tiempo descolonizar los cuerpos, las mentes, los lugares” - https://elpais.com/eps/2023-02-18/lei...
March 12, 2022
"Schreiben heißt, sich Fesseln anlegen, doch aus diesen Fesseln selbst erwächst die Möglichkeit einer ungeheuren, schwindelerregenden Freiheit." - Leïla Slimani, "Der Duft der Blumen bei Nacht"
Es ist 2019, Leïla Slimani befindet sich mitten im Schreibprozess zu ihrem ersten historischen Roman "Das Land der Anderen". Sie hat sich abgeschottet, sich in die schriftstellerische Einsamkeit zurückgezogen. Einen Termin mit ihrer Lektorin nimmt sie aber dennoch wahr und diese macht sie auf ein besonderes Projekt aufmerksam: Autor*innen lassen sich eine Nacht im Museum einschließen und schreiben darüber. Sie ist sich zunächst unsicher, lässt sich dann aber vom Eingeschlossen- und Abgeschieden-Sein überzeugen.
Aus diesem Projekt entstanden ist "Der Duft der Blumen bei Nacht", ein essayistisches Buch, aus dem Französischen übersetzt von Amelie Thoma, in dem Leïla Slimani viele sehr persönliche Gedanken mit den Lesenden teilt. Sie erzählt von ihrem Verhältnis zum Schreiben, ihrer Herkunft, ihrer Kindheit in Rabat, Kolonialismus, ihrem Vater, aber auch der Kunst, die sie im Museum Punta Della Dogana in Venedig zu sehen bekommt. Dabei schlägt sie eine Brücke zwischen den Kunstgegenständen, den künstlerischen Installationen und ihren Überlegungen, sie streift sowohl gedanklich, als auch barfuß durch die Gänge.
Ich mochte sowohl diese Idee, eine Nacht eingeschlossen in einem Museum zu verbringen, als auch Leïla Slimanis entwaffnende Offenheit. "Der Duft der Blumen bei Nacht" ist fesselnd und hallt trotz seiner Kürze nach. Eine lesenswerte Unterbrechung des Schreibens von Leïla Slimani an ihrem autobiographischen Roman, die sich sehr gut auch als Einstieg in ihre literarischen Werke eignet.
Es ist 2019, Leïla Slimani befindet sich mitten im Schreibprozess zu ihrem ersten historischen Roman "Das Land der Anderen". Sie hat sich abgeschottet, sich in die schriftstellerische Einsamkeit zurückgezogen. Einen Termin mit ihrer Lektorin nimmt sie aber dennoch wahr und diese macht sie auf ein besonderes Projekt aufmerksam: Autor*innen lassen sich eine Nacht im Museum einschließen und schreiben darüber. Sie ist sich zunächst unsicher, lässt sich dann aber vom Eingeschlossen- und Abgeschieden-Sein überzeugen.
Aus diesem Projekt entstanden ist "Der Duft der Blumen bei Nacht", ein essayistisches Buch, aus dem Französischen übersetzt von Amelie Thoma, in dem Leïla Slimani viele sehr persönliche Gedanken mit den Lesenden teilt. Sie erzählt von ihrem Verhältnis zum Schreiben, ihrer Herkunft, ihrer Kindheit in Rabat, Kolonialismus, ihrem Vater, aber auch der Kunst, die sie im Museum Punta Della Dogana in Venedig zu sehen bekommt. Dabei schlägt sie eine Brücke zwischen den Kunstgegenständen, den künstlerischen Installationen und ihren Überlegungen, sie streift sowohl gedanklich, als auch barfuß durch die Gänge.
Ich mochte sowohl diese Idee, eine Nacht eingeschlossen in einem Museum zu verbringen, als auch Leïla Slimanis entwaffnende Offenheit. "Der Duft der Blumen bei Nacht" ist fesselnd und hallt trotz seiner Kürze nach. Eine lesenswerte Unterbrechung des Schreibens von Leïla Slimani an ihrem autobiographischen Roman, die sich sehr gut auch als Einstieg in ihre literarischen Werke eignet.
July 16, 2024
Já ando há muito tempo para ler algo da Leila Slimani e acho que foi um erro ter começado por este livro que, só depois de começar descobri, é um ensaio.
"O perfume das flores à noite" foi uma encomenda de um museu em Veneza. A ideia era a autora pernoitar no museu e escrever algo que tivesse origem nessa experiência. Senti o tempo todo que as divagações eram apenas produto de não ter nada mais interessante para escrever, como quando eu era miúda no liceu e me dedicava à arte de "pôr palha" nas respostas do teste de história. Foi como se o livro inteiro fosse apenas o prefácio.
É um livro cheio de citações que, apesar de todas elas serem maravilhosas, parecem só servir para dar ao livro mais espessura. Não desisto da autora mas este não ficará na minha memória.
"O perfume das flores à noite" foi uma encomenda de um museu em Veneza. A ideia era a autora pernoitar no museu e escrever algo que tivesse origem nessa experiência. Senti o tempo todo que as divagações eram apenas produto de não ter nada mais interessante para escrever, como quando eu era miúda no liceu e me dedicava à arte de "pôr palha" nas respostas do teste de história. Foi como se o livro inteiro fosse apenas o prefácio.
É um livro cheio de citações que, apesar de todas elas serem maravilhosas, parecem só servir para dar ao livro mais espessura. Não desisto da autora mas este não ficará na minha memória.
May 5, 2022
4,5 von 5 Sterne
Ein lesenswerter Roman, in der die Autorin von einer ungewöhnlichen Nacht allein im Museum Punta della Dogana in Venedig erzählt. Was erlebt sie dort? Welche Gedanken erscheinen ihr? Wer ist sie überhaupt? Und warum schreibt sie eigentlich? Fragen, die die Autorin dem Leser beantwortet.
Ihre Offenheit hat mich ab der ersten Seite beeindruckt. Vor allem ihr Leben zwischen den Kulturen und den Bezug zum Schreiben. 156 Seiten, die aus dem Französischen von Amelie Thoma übersetzt wurden und sich wunderbar lesen.
Ich werde definitiv noch weitere Bücher von der Autorin lesen.
Ein lesenswerter Roman, in der die Autorin von einer ungewöhnlichen Nacht allein im Museum Punta della Dogana in Venedig erzählt. Was erlebt sie dort? Welche Gedanken erscheinen ihr? Wer ist sie überhaupt? Und warum schreibt sie eigentlich? Fragen, die die Autorin dem Leser beantwortet.
Ihre Offenheit hat mich ab der ersten Seite beeindruckt. Vor allem ihr Leben zwischen den Kulturen und den Bezug zum Schreiben. 156 Seiten, die aus dem Französischen von Amelie Thoma übersetzt wurden und sich wunderbar lesen.
Ich werde definitiv noch weitere Bücher von der Autorin lesen.
October 27, 2022
Este tipo de cosas dice: “Si quieres escribir una novela, la primera norma es saber decir no (...) No, no puedo cuidar de mi sobrino enfermo..." Y: “La escritura (es) renunciar a la felicidad, a las alegrías de la vida cotidiana. No intentar curarse ni consolarse, sino cultivar las propias penas... Dejar que se abran las cicatrices, remover los recuerdos”.
Pues, sí, pues, visto de cierta manera, pero también ese estereotipo del escritor atormentado viene sobrando en estos tiempos, se antoja hasta patriarcal, anquilosado. ¿A quién beneficia que las escritoras seamos desdichadas y que ejerzamos un oficio en total desvinculación social?
Más adelante, incluso dice: “La conversación es la enemiga de los escritores. Uno debería callarse, refugiarse en un silencio obstinado y profundo.” Híjole, eso sí que no.
Conforme avanza el libro, y conforme más se transparentan los privilegios de los que goza la autora, se va volviendo más ciega ante ellos. El tratamiento del tema es de una estrechez insoportable (que es un modo fino de decir que me aburrió tremendamente). Para la página 58 aparece por fin el padre, la verdadera historia, pero para ese entonces ya nos aventamos párrafos y párrafos de namedropping, citaciones excesivas, crítica artística varia, y de una intelectualidad que, aquí entre nos, más pareciera un intento por probar... ¿qué cosa?
(Ay, no, y el regodeo: “El pasado y el presente, lo antiguo y lo moderno, las cicatrices y la juventud”. Yaa, ya entendimos).
En resumen: No
Pues, sí, pues, visto de cierta manera, pero también ese estereotipo del escritor atormentado viene sobrando en estos tiempos, se antoja hasta patriarcal, anquilosado. ¿A quién beneficia que las escritoras seamos desdichadas y que ejerzamos un oficio en total desvinculación social?
Más adelante, incluso dice: “La conversación es la enemiga de los escritores. Uno debería callarse, refugiarse en un silencio obstinado y profundo.” Híjole, eso sí que no.
Conforme avanza el libro, y conforme más se transparentan los privilegios de los que goza la autora, se va volviendo más ciega ante ellos. El tratamiento del tema es de una estrechez insoportable (que es un modo fino de decir que me aburrió tremendamente). Para la página 58 aparece por fin el padre, la verdadera historia, pero para ese entonces ya nos aventamos párrafos y párrafos de namedropping, citaciones excesivas, crítica artística varia, y de una intelectualidad que, aquí entre nos, más pareciera un intento por probar... ¿qué cosa?
(Ay, no, y el regodeo: “El pasado y el presente, lo antiguo y lo moderno, las cicatrices y la juventud”. Yaa, ya entendimos).
En resumen: No
January 7, 2024
Hörbuch.
Fand die Zerissenheit der Autorin zwischen ihrer kulturellen Herkunft (Marokko) und dem Leben in Frankreich sehr gut geschildert.
Sie darf sich während einer Schreibblockade im venzianischen Museum Museo Punta Della Dogana einschließen lassen (beneidenswert, ich würde gern jede Nacht in einem anderen Museum verbringen, na gut, zumindest einmal pro Woche).
Statt an ihrem Roman zu schreiben, kommen in ihr schöne, aber auch schnerzhafte Erinnerungen hoch.
Sehr persönlich, tiefgründig.
Fand die Zerissenheit der Autorin zwischen ihrer kulturellen Herkunft (Marokko) und dem Leben in Frankreich sehr gut geschildert.
Sie darf sich während einer Schreibblockade im venzianischen Museum Museo Punta Della Dogana einschließen lassen (beneidenswert, ich würde gern jede Nacht in einem anderen Museum verbringen, na gut, zumindest einmal pro Woche).
Statt an ihrem Roman zu schreiben, kommen in ihr schöne, aber auch schnerzhafte Erinnerungen hoch.
Sehr persönlich, tiefgründig.
September 15, 2022
"Vychovávali ma ako domáceho miláčika. Nikdy som nešportovala. Neviem jazdiť na bickli a nemám vodičský preukaz. Ako dieťa som väčšinu času trávila doma. Učila som sa. Rabat neponúkal veľa možností trávenia voľného času, a tak sme sa so sestrami zabávali čítaním alebo pozeraním filmov. Zakázaným územím nebola len noc, ale aj vonkajšok. Dievčatá nemali čo robiť na uliciach, námestiach, v kaviarňach, na ktorých terasách, ako si pamätám, sedávali len muži. Dievča sa presúvalo len z bodu A do bodu B. Inak bolo tuláčkou, pijankou, dievčaťom, čo zišlo z cesty. Hrozilo veľa nebezpečenstiev: otehotnenie, zamilovanie sa, zhoršenie známok v škole pre nadmerné emócie. Rozprávali mi o sérii závratných pádov, jeden horší ako druhý. Dievčatá boli navždy Evinými dcérami."
"Volám sa noc. Toje význam môjho krstného mena Leila v arabčine. Ale pochybujem, že to stačí na vysvetlenie príťažlivosti, ktorú som veľmi skoro pocítila k nočnému životu. Cez deň sa každý správal podľa toho, čo sa od neho očakávalo, snažil sa udržať si fazónu, prezentovať sa ako cnostný, konformný a slušný človek. Ako dieťa som denné hodiny vnímala ako čas venovaný banálnym a bezvýznamným činnostiam. Predstavovali územie nudy a povinnosti. Potom prišla noc. Poslali nás spať, pričom som tušila, že kým spíme, na javisko prichádzajú iní herci. ľudia sa vyjadrovali inak, ženy boli krásne, mali vyčesané vlasy, odhaľovali žiarivú a voňavú pleť. Zdalo sa mi, že sú krehké, keď príliš pili, keď sa smiali, ale zároveň im nechýbala nepremožiteľná sila. Tieto premeny ma fascinovali. A keď som bola vo veku, keď som už mohla chodiť večer von, alebo dokonca ešte skôr, sa ma zmocnil hnev. Naliehavosť, hlad, ženúci ma užiť si noc. Nechcela som byť dobre vychovaným dievčatkom."
"Často sa ma ľudia pýtajú, čo dokáže literatúra. Je to ako pýtať sa lekára, čo dokáže liek. Čím sme ďalej, tým viac si uvedomujeme, akí sme bezmocní. Bezmocnosť nás posadne, pohltí. Píšeme naslepo, nechápeme a nič nie je vysvetliteľné."
"Volám sa noc. Toje význam môjho krstného mena Leila v arabčine. Ale pochybujem, že to stačí na vysvetlenie príťažlivosti, ktorú som veľmi skoro pocítila k nočnému životu. Cez deň sa každý správal podľa toho, čo sa od neho očakávalo, snažil sa udržať si fazónu, prezentovať sa ako cnostný, konformný a slušný človek. Ako dieťa som denné hodiny vnímala ako čas venovaný banálnym a bezvýznamným činnostiam. Predstavovali územie nudy a povinnosti. Potom prišla noc. Poslali nás spať, pričom som tušila, že kým spíme, na javisko prichádzajú iní herci. ľudia sa vyjadrovali inak, ženy boli krásne, mali vyčesané vlasy, odhaľovali žiarivú a voňavú pleť. Zdalo sa mi, že sú krehké, keď príliš pili, keď sa smiali, ale zároveň im nechýbala nepremožiteľná sila. Tieto premeny ma fascinovali. A keď som bola vo veku, keď som už mohla chodiť večer von, alebo dokonca ešte skôr, sa ma zmocnil hnev. Naliehavosť, hlad, ženúci ma užiť si noc. Nechcela som byť dobre vychovaným dievčatkom."
"Často sa ma ľudia pýtajú, čo dokáže literatúra. Je to ako pýtať sa lekára, čo dokáže liek. Čím sme ďalej, tým viac si uvedomujeme, akí sme bezmocní. Bezmocnosť nás posadne, pohltí. Píšeme naslepo, nechápeme a nič nie je vysvetliteľné."
August 9, 2022
"Em que armadilha fui cair? Porque aceitei escrever este texto, se estou plenamente convencida de que a escrita deve responder a uma necessidade, a uma obsessão íntima, a uma urgência interior? De resto, quando os jornalistas me perguntam porque escolhi dado tema para o meu romance, vejo-me sempre em apuros para responder. Invento qualquer coisa, uma mentira credível. Se lhes dissesse que são os nossos temas que nos escolhem, e não o contrário, tomar-me-iam sem dúvida por uma pedante ou por uma louca. A verdade é que os romances se nos impõem, devoram-nos. São como um tumor que alastra por nós adentro, que assume o controlo de todo o nosso ser e do qual só nos podemos curar abandonando-nos a ele."
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Página 45
October 2, 2022
Neste livro bastante intimista, Slimani revela-nos alguns dos seus pensamentos sobre a escrita e sobre identidade.
É um livro para ser saboreado lentamente, com momentos que me agradaram mais que outros (como é natural). Sob pena de poder prejudicar o prazer da leitura de alguém, guardarei para mim as partes que menos me interessaram.
"Virginia Woolf foi sem dúvida quem melhor compreendeu a que ponto a condição das mulheres as constrangia a viver numa tensão constante entre o interior e o exterior. É-lhes recusado, por um lado, o conforto e a intimidade de um quarto só seu, bem como, por outro, a vastidão do mundo lá fora, onde poderiam conviver com outros e viver aventuras."
É um livro para ser saboreado lentamente, com momentos que me agradaram mais que outros (como é natural). Sob pena de poder prejudicar o prazer da leitura de alguém, guardarei para mim as partes que menos me interessaram.
"Virginia Woolf foi sem dúvida quem melhor compreendeu a que ponto a condição das mulheres as constrangia a viver numa tensão constante entre o interior e o exterior. É-lhes recusado, por um lado, o conforto e a intimidade de um quarto só seu, bem como, por outro, a vastidão do mundo lá fora, onde poderiam conviver com outros e viver aventuras."
January 17, 2024
Als Leïla Slimani in einer Schreibkrise steckte, machte ihr die Verlegerin das ungewöhnliche Angebot, eine Nacht in einem Museum in Venedig zu verbringen. Warum gerade Venedig? Wahrscheinlich gibt es nicht viele Museen, in denen eine Nacht verbracht werden kann. (Ich habe viele Jahre mit meiner Tochter Pläne gemacht, wie wir uns heimlich in der Bibliothek einschließen lassen könnten 😉)
Aus diesem Versuch entstand dieses Büchlein, in dem die Autorin ihre Beobachtungen und alle Gedanken in dieser Nacht einfließen lässt. Vermutlich in einer Nachbearbeitung hat sie an passenden Stellen andere Werke zitiert oder schlaue Vergleiche eingefügt. Ihre Gedanken kreisen z. B. um das Schreiben als schmerzhaften Prozess, um das heutige Venedig voller Touristen und die damit zusammenhängenden Probleme, um Museen und Kunst, bildende Kunst versus Literatur, und ganz viel um das eigene Auswachsen in Marokko und wie es die Autorin geprägt hat. Das Museum, in dem sie übernachtet, ist eine ehemalige Zollstation im Hafen, ein Zwischenbereich zwischen den Schiffen z. B. aus dem arabischen Raum und dem europäischen Festland, d. h. ein Ort, der Slimanis Lebensgefühl zwischen Europa und Afrika verkörpert.
Alles, was mit dem Leben zwischen Marokko und Frankreich zusammenhing, habe ich besonders gern gelesen. Insgesamt wurden mir aber zu viele Themen gestreift, deren Zusammenhang darin bestand, in dieser speziellen Nacht gedacht worden zu sein. Der Text ist nicht flach, die Überlegungen sind teilweise überraschend und des Nachdenkens wert, aber trotzdem werde ich sie bald vergessen haben. Die Sprache ist ausgefeilt, der Stil gefiel mir gut. Ich sollte es noch mit einem Roman der Autorin versuchen. Dieses Buch aus wenigen, spärlich bedruckten Seiten, nahezu ohne Handlung, war zu wenig für eine bessere Bewertung, macht aber durchaus neugierig auf andere Bücher von Slimani.
Aus diesem Versuch entstand dieses Büchlein, in dem die Autorin ihre Beobachtungen und alle Gedanken in dieser Nacht einfließen lässt. Vermutlich in einer Nachbearbeitung hat sie an passenden Stellen andere Werke zitiert oder schlaue Vergleiche eingefügt. Ihre Gedanken kreisen z. B. um das Schreiben als schmerzhaften Prozess, um das heutige Venedig voller Touristen und die damit zusammenhängenden Probleme, um Museen und Kunst, bildende Kunst versus Literatur, und ganz viel um das eigene Auswachsen in Marokko und wie es die Autorin geprägt hat. Das Museum, in dem sie übernachtet, ist eine ehemalige Zollstation im Hafen, ein Zwischenbereich zwischen den Schiffen z. B. aus dem arabischen Raum und dem europäischen Festland, d. h. ein Ort, der Slimanis Lebensgefühl zwischen Europa und Afrika verkörpert.
Alles, was mit dem Leben zwischen Marokko und Frankreich zusammenhing, habe ich besonders gern gelesen. Insgesamt wurden mir aber zu viele Themen gestreift, deren Zusammenhang darin bestand, in dieser speziellen Nacht gedacht worden zu sein. Der Text ist nicht flach, die Überlegungen sind teilweise überraschend und des Nachdenkens wert, aber trotzdem werde ich sie bald vergessen haben. Die Sprache ist ausgefeilt, der Stil gefiel mir gut. Ich sollte es noch mit einem Roman der Autorin versuchen. Dieses Buch aus wenigen, spärlich bedruckten Seiten, nahezu ohne Handlung, war zu wenig für eine bessere Bewertung, macht aber durchaus neugierig auf andere Bücher von Slimani.
May 13, 2022
It's hard to describe this book since it is a mixture of autobiography, art and literary criticism. But I really like it and I am planning to explore more books by this author.
3* The Perfect Nanny
4* O perfume das flores à noite
TR In the Country of Others (Le pays des autres, #1)
TR Regardez-nous danser (Le pays des autres, #2)
3* The Perfect Nanny
4* O perfume das flores à noite
TR In the Country of Others (Le pays des autres, #1)
TR Regardez-nous danser (Le pays des autres, #2)
June 27, 2022
Intímna spoveď o procese písania. Čo znamená byť autorkou a čo všetko ovplyvňuje jej tvorbu. Krásne a úprimne.
December 17, 2023
Вече знам, че каквото и да напише Лейла Слимани ще ме вълнува и предизвиква като читател. Най-новата и книга на български е изключително любопитна. Нехудожествена литература, смесица между размислите на авторката за писането и спомени от детството и. Погледа и върху емигрантството, разказ за баща и, който е изпратен в затвора, картина на Мароко от ранните и години. Има вплетени много препратки към различни литературни произведения и автори и за мен беше истинско удоволствие да усетя творческия процес на Лейла Слимани, както и да получа солидно обяснение защо засяга определени теми в книгите си и начина, по който избира да ги поднесе на читателя.
“Писането е дисциплина. То е доброволен отказ от щастието и радостите на ежедневието… За да пишете трябва да отказвате себе си на другите, да им отказвате присъствието си, нежността си, да разчоравате приятелите си и децата… Да пишеш означава да откриеш свободата, да измисляш себе си в света.”
“Писането е борба за неподвижност и съсредоточеност. Една физическа битка, в която човек непрекъснато трябва да сдържа желанието си да живее и да бъде щастлив.”
“Писането представлява непрестанно изживяване на провал, непреодолимо неудовлетворение, невъзможност. И въпреки това продължаваме. И пишем”
“Писането е дисциплина. То е доброволен отказ от щастието и радостите на ежедневието… За да пишете трябва да отказвате себе си на другите, да им отказвате присъствието си, нежността си, да разчоравате приятелите си и децата… Да пишеш означава да откриеш свободата, да измисляш себе си в света.”
“Писането е борба за неподвижност и съсредоточеност. Една физическа битка, в която човек непрекъснато трябва да сдържа желанието си да живее и да бъде щастлив.”
“Писането представлява непрестанно изживяване на провал, непреодолимо неудовлетворение, невъзможност. И въпреки това продължаваме. И пишем”
August 16, 2022
Veľmi hutná, intenzívna esej o samote, (u)zavretosti, slobode, inakosti, noci, otcovi, povinnosti, písaní, šťastí, obave a mnohom, mnohom inom. Skrz-naskrz predchnutá intertextualitou, citátmi, priznanými inšpiráciami mnohých ďalších z literárnych i mimoliterárnych svetov.
A múzeum v Benátkach? Len scéna z papundeklu. Podstatné sa odohráva inde - v myšlienkovom svete autorky.
"Keď píšeme, berieme na vedomie slabosti a chyby iných. Chápeme, že sme sami, ale že sme rovnakí.
Na veľkých spisovateľoch ma dojíma ich ohľaduplnosť k druhým. V knihách, ktoré ma očarili, majú autori toľko empatie, že aj tie najbanálnejšie životy, najvšednejšie pocity v sebe nesú kúzlo. Zdá sa, že z našich úbohých životov vzíde niečo veľké. Dali mi nádej alebo ilúziu, že si môžeme porozumieť, že si môžeme odpustiť alebo sa navzájom neodsudzovať. Že nie sme odsúdení na chlad a nekonečnú samotu."
A múzeum v Benátkach? Len scéna z papundeklu. Podstatné sa odohráva inde - v myšlienkovom svete autorky.
"Keď píšeme, berieme na vedomie slabosti a chyby iných. Chápeme, že sme sami, ale že sme rovnakí.
Na veľkých spisovateľoch ma dojíma ich ohľaduplnosť k druhým. V knihách, ktoré ma očarili, majú autori toľko empatie, že aj tie najbanálnejšie životy, najvšednejšie pocity v sebe nesú kúzlo. Zdá sa, že z našich úbohých životov vzíde niečo veľké. Dali mi nádej alebo ilúziu, že si môžeme porozumieť, že si môžeme odpustiť alebo sa navzájom neodsudzovať. Že nie sme odsúdení na chlad a nekonečnú samotu."
April 6, 2024
achei-o pretensioso. desconexo, oscila entre uma biografia sentimental da autora e o objetivo de escrever algo sobre a noite que passou no museu. acaba por ser uma miscelânea de citações de outros autores e tentativas de aforismos que nem sempre saem bem.
December 31, 2022
terminer l’année avec ce livre 🧡🧡🧡
January 21, 2021
Quand l‘écrivaine Leïla Slimani est offerte une nuit blanche au sein de la Punta della Dogana (Pointe de la Douane), musée au cœur de Venise, elle accepte comme son roman actuel ne veut pas avancer. Mais, non seulement la possibilité de se trouver seul avec des chef-d’œuvre d‘art la séduit, mais l‘idée d‘être enfermée. Pour elle, c‘est dans les petites pièces renfermées que l‘inspiration vienne. Loin du monde avec soi-même, les personnages lui parlent et l‘histoire naît. Les heures avec des sculptures et des tableaux lui entraînent avant tout à une réflexion de son travail comme écrivaine, de l‘art en général et de sa propre histoire entre deux cultures.
« Les musées continuent de m‘apparaître comme des lieux écrasants, des forteresses dédiées à l‘art, à la beauté, au génie et où je me sens toute petite. »
Le roman de Leïla Slimani est avant tout la documentation de son flux de conscience pendant cette nuit qui coule d‘un sujet à l‘autre. D‘abord, elle se trouve face à des œuvres d‘art extraordinaires, mais elle se sent inférieure comme elle n‘a jamais développé une attitude détendue envers eux. Elle avait toujours l‘idée qu‘il fallait sentir quelque chose de singulier et de voir le génie du créateur immédiatement.
« Je suis sans doute bête. Ou bien c‘est l‘escalope milanaise qui me pèse sur l‘estomac et m‘empêche de faire le moindre effort de réflexion. »
Mais, la peinture comme la littérature est plutôt une interaction entre l‘œuvre et la personne qui le regarde ou lit et qui s‘ouvre pour avoir un échange. Ainsi, tout interprétation est correcte. La littérature comme une partie intégrale de sa vie mène nécessairement à son enfance, ses parents et son enfance entre le Maroc et la France.
« Mes parents voulaient que nous soyons des femmes libres, indépendantes, capables d‘exprimer des choix et des opinions. »
Le livre n‘est ni roman ni essai mais une réflexion continue, Slimani nous laisse participer à sa nuit au musée et ainsi partage aussi son processus créatif. J’ai bien aimé suivre ses pensées très personnelles qui montrent aussi un côté vulnérable de l’écrivaine.
« Les musées continuent de m‘apparaître comme des lieux écrasants, des forteresses dédiées à l‘art, à la beauté, au génie et où je me sens toute petite. »
Le roman de Leïla Slimani est avant tout la documentation de son flux de conscience pendant cette nuit qui coule d‘un sujet à l‘autre. D‘abord, elle se trouve face à des œuvres d‘art extraordinaires, mais elle se sent inférieure comme elle n‘a jamais développé une attitude détendue envers eux. Elle avait toujours l‘idée qu‘il fallait sentir quelque chose de singulier et de voir le génie du créateur immédiatement.
« Je suis sans doute bête. Ou bien c‘est l‘escalope milanaise qui me pèse sur l‘estomac et m‘empêche de faire le moindre effort de réflexion. »
Mais, la peinture comme la littérature est plutôt une interaction entre l‘œuvre et la personne qui le regarde ou lit et qui s‘ouvre pour avoir un échange. Ainsi, tout interprétation est correcte. La littérature comme une partie intégrale de sa vie mène nécessairement à son enfance, ses parents et son enfance entre le Maroc et la France.
« Mes parents voulaient que nous soyons des femmes libres, indépendantes, capables d‘exprimer des choix et des opinions. »
Le livre n‘est ni roman ni essai mais une réflexion continue, Slimani nous laisse participer à sa nuit au musée et ainsi partage aussi son processus créatif. J’ai bien aimé suivre ses pensées très personnelles qui montrent aussi un côté vulnérable de l’écrivaine.
March 26, 2022
Este livro é uma extraordinária viagem que nos dá mundo. Confessional, íntimo e tão bom, na simplicidade da escrita de Leïla (que em árabe significa noite) de que já sou incondicional admiradora. A escrita e a literatura é o mote para um primeiro ensaio publicado. Sozinha e descalça, uma noite num museu de arte contemporânea em Veneza é transportada para os recantos que a memória perservou. Identidade também foi assunto. E consequentemente, liberdade. E não faltaram interjeições de grandes autores para aconchegar uma ideia, um pensamento. E a leitura faz-se de avanços e recuos para guardar e apreciar palavras sábias e sensatas de quem contempla os outros.
"A literatura, como a arte, não conhece o tempo da vida quotidiana. Não quer saber das fronteiras entre o passado e o presente. A literatura faz acontecer o futuro, devolve-nos às florestas claras da infância. O passado, quando escrevemos, não está morto. " (pag.134)
"A literatura, como a arte, não conhece o tempo da vida quotidiana. Não quer saber das fronteiras entre o passado e o presente. A literatura faz acontecer o futuro, devolve-nos às florestas claras da infância. O passado, quando escrevemos, não está morto. " (pag.134)
August 1, 2022
« Écrire c’est découvrir la liberté de s’inventer soi-même et d’inventer le monde « .
Este e outros pensamentos sobre a escrita e o que é preciso para alguém ser um escritor.
E outros em que me revejo completamente:
“Souvent je me suis demandé à quoi aurait ressemblé ma vie si je n’avais pas eu peur ».
É um livro cheio de pensamentos tanto da autora como de outros escritores.
Uma mistura de pensamentos.
Uma introspecção durante uma noite fechada num museu .
Um livro bonito .
Este e outros pensamentos sobre a escrita e o que é preciso para alguém ser um escritor.
E outros em que me revejo completamente:
“Souvent je me suis demandé à quoi aurait ressemblé ma vie si je n’avais pas eu peur ».
É um livro cheio de pensamentos tanto da autora como de outros escritores.
Uma mistura de pensamentos.
Uma introspecção durante uma noite fechada num museu .
Um livro bonito .
August 28, 2022
Um convite para passar a noite num museu, que a autora aceita a contragosto porque lhe interrompe o afastamento de que precisa para criar, acaba por resultar num belo texto confessional onde nos fala da sua escrita e vida. «A literatura preza as cicatrizes, os vestígios do acidente, as desgraças incompreensíveis, as dores injustas.»
December 29, 2022
Um livro que me prendeu logo na primeira página! Escrita simples, mas muito bonita… sincera!
Foi uma ótima companhia por umas horas!
Há encontros com livros, outros escritores e peças de arte!
Só não dou 5 * por lhe faltar um pouco mais de aventura!
Foi uma ótima companhia por umas horas!
Há encontros com livros, outros escritores e peças de arte!
Só não dou 5 * por lhe faltar um pouco mais de aventura!
December 17, 2022
I came across this book on my usual trips to the bookshop. I had never heard about Leïla Slimani prior to this visit, but it is a habit of mine to buy a book completely foreign to my knowledge every time I go bookshopping.
The motivation for the book bit me instantly: the author was to spend a night at a contemporary art museum in Venice and write about it. Quite exciting, right?
Leïla Slimani took this venture seriously and has added a very personal touch to it. Whether this was her intention or not, it seemed to me that she took this opportunity to reflect about why she chose writing for a living, to think and philosophize about literature in general, and better understand what's its meaning in her life. In a nutshell, an autobiographical text about herself and literature, and how she got where she is now, both as a writer and a person.
This book gave me mixed feelings, so please stay until the end not to judge me wrongly.
There is no question that Leïla is a talented writer who knows how to articulate herself vividly and concisely, with access to a vast vocabulary and literary culture. However, I was left with the impression that much of the sharing she does in this book was somehow forced, even superficial at times. Actually, the author herself was not convinced about writing this book, which might explain this intuition of mine. She writes: "What trap have I fallen into? Why did I agree to write this text, if I am fully convinced that writing should respond to a need, an intimate obsession, an inner urgency?" (translation from the Portuguese version, p.45).
There is a theme that links the whole book: "the writer as the sufferer and the alien of the world". In my opinion, and although I can understand where it comes from, this is a commonplace already out of fashion since the beginning of the 20th century. Nevertheless, the writer was very keen to make it "a thing".
To reinforce this idea, she constantly quotes other authors, most of them the big names of literature. Consciously or not, she falls into the trap of expressing her feelings and thoughts through those writers' words, which made me wonder what are her own feelings and thoughts about the subjects she addresses. I was also left with the feeling that by intently not wanting to compare herself with those great names of literature, and intently not wishing to place herself in the same category as them, she did exactly that. It came across as a little pedantic, although I got a long list of books to read in the future.
Another theme that recurs throughout the book is the question of race and nationality. Leïla Slimani is of French-Moroccan origins, being born in Morocco and having moved to France as a 17 year old. As she writes about her adult life in Paris and her childhood in Meknes, she does so from a standpoint as if by being an African woman in France she had to go about much racism and discrimination - but she herself is not so sure that she belongs to the category of the "common immigrants".
If we look closely at her background, we find that her father was a very important banker in Morocco with high-ranked connections in France. We also find that she always moved around high social circles and that she attended the best and most prestigious schools and universities, even when she moved to France. Once you know about this, it seems odd to see her go about lack of privilege and discrimination when she has always had quite a favoured status wherever she went. And please don't get me wrong here: I strongly advocate that voices like hers should make public what she makes public in this book, voices that address what happens to the people of her origin and national background in their own countries, especially women, and what happens to these people when they immigrate. What doesn't feel right to me is that she makes us feel pity for her specific situation, when in fact she had all the means available to do and to be whatever she wanted as a young kid and adult.
This being said, it is time to tell you about the other feelings I had about the book.
What stroke me the most was the empathy that lives in these pages. The whole turbulent father and daughter relationship, the need for solitude - its comprehension and development -, the narrative about feeling impotent and without will to act and rise from a state of fear and doubt... All these were expressed in a manner that resonated strongly inside myself and, I believe, resonate strongly with most people. For all we have issues with our parents or blame them for something. For all we feel insecure and doubtful many a time. For all we crave for human contact and understanding.
And it is so that when you least expect, in the midst of many clichés and commonplaces, she comes out with the most deep of insights, making me wonder why she had to go to those commonplaces in the first place.
There is a sensitive soul behind the pen. There is an incredibly intelligent woman behind this book. There is an acute observer and listener before the words I read. But I sense there is also someone who at times is fragile and insecure - which are most beautiful feelings to have and to express, which she does in a beautiful way. Only this time, these feelings made her go against her own convictions and write a book that she doesn't seem to believe in or be proud of.
But on we go! I am very much looking forward into reading one of her novels as I truly believe that she does much better than this.
The motivation for the book bit me instantly: the author was to spend a night at a contemporary art museum in Venice and write about it. Quite exciting, right?
Leïla Slimani took this venture seriously and has added a very personal touch to it. Whether this was her intention or not, it seemed to me that she took this opportunity to reflect about why she chose writing for a living, to think and philosophize about literature in general, and better understand what's its meaning in her life. In a nutshell, an autobiographical text about herself and literature, and how she got where she is now, both as a writer and a person.
This book gave me mixed feelings, so please stay until the end not to judge me wrongly.
There is no question that Leïla is a talented writer who knows how to articulate herself vividly and concisely, with access to a vast vocabulary and literary culture. However, I was left with the impression that much of the sharing she does in this book was somehow forced, even superficial at times. Actually, the author herself was not convinced about writing this book, which might explain this intuition of mine. She writes: "What trap have I fallen into? Why did I agree to write this text, if I am fully convinced that writing should respond to a need, an intimate obsession, an inner urgency?" (translation from the Portuguese version, p.45).
There is a theme that links the whole book: "the writer as the sufferer and the alien of the world". In my opinion, and although I can understand where it comes from, this is a commonplace already out of fashion since the beginning of the 20th century. Nevertheless, the writer was very keen to make it "a thing".
To reinforce this idea, she constantly quotes other authors, most of them the big names of literature. Consciously or not, she falls into the trap of expressing her feelings and thoughts through those writers' words, which made me wonder what are her own feelings and thoughts about the subjects she addresses. I was also left with the feeling that by intently not wanting to compare herself with those great names of literature, and intently not wishing to place herself in the same category as them, she did exactly that. It came across as a little pedantic, although I got a long list of books to read in the future.
Another theme that recurs throughout the book is the question of race and nationality. Leïla Slimani is of French-Moroccan origins, being born in Morocco and having moved to France as a 17 year old. As she writes about her adult life in Paris and her childhood in Meknes, she does so from a standpoint as if by being an African woman in France she had to go about much racism and discrimination - but she herself is not so sure that she belongs to the category of the "common immigrants".
If we look closely at her background, we find that her father was a very important banker in Morocco with high-ranked connections in France. We also find that she always moved around high social circles and that she attended the best and most prestigious schools and universities, even when she moved to France. Once you know about this, it seems odd to see her go about lack of privilege and discrimination when she has always had quite a favoured status wherever she went. And please don't get me wrong here: I strongly advocate that voices like hers should make public what she makes public in this book, voices that address what happens to the people of her origin and national background in their own countries, especially women, and what happens to these people when they immigrate. What doesn't feel right to me is that she makes us feel pity for her specific situation, when in fact she had all the means available to do and to be whatever she wanted as a young kid and adult.
This being said, it is time to tell you about the other feelings I had about the book.
What stroke me the most was the empathy that lives in these pages. The whole turbulent father and daughter relationship, the need for solitude - its comprehension and development -, the narrative about feeling impotent and without will to act and rise from a state of fear and doubt... All these were expressed in a manner that resonated strongly inside myself and, I believe, resonate strongly with most people. For all we have issues with our parents or blame them for something. For all we feel insecure and doubtful many a time. For all we crave for human contact and understanding.
And it is so that when you least expect, in the midst of many clichés and commonplaces, she comes out with the most deep of insights, making me wonder why she had to go to those commonplaces in the first place.
There is a sensitive soul behind the pen. There is an incredibly intelligent woman behind this book. There is an acute observer and listener before the words I read. But I sense there is also someone who at times is fragile and insecure - which are most beautiful feelings to have and to express, which she does in a beautiful way. Only this time, these feelings made her go against her own convictions and write a book that she doesn't seem to believe in or be proud of.
But on we go! I am very much looking forward into reading one of her novels as I truly believe that she does much better than this.
August 15, 2023
Um livro mais pessoal da escritora. Uma noite passada no museu foi o espaço criativo para falar sobre o seu passado em Rabat, sobre o seu pai e o tempo em que esteve preso. Um livro sobre liberdade de escolha, sobre escritores e o acto de escrever. Pensamentos soltos na forma desalinhada e desrruptiva de um sonho dormido numa cama num lugar a que não se pertence.
January 18, 2026
j’ai adoré ce livre sans vraiment savoir pourquoi j’ai adoré ce livre et c’est peut-être pour ça que j’ai adoré ce livre
January 1, 2023
Primeiro livro de 2023,um ensaio que narra uma reflexão da própria autora, quero ler mais desta escritora.
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