Pages

Thursday, 13 August 2020

Love, Roger (1969) by CHARLES WEBB



Penguin Books UK, 1972





The first time I saw Melinda again, or thought I saw her, was the Sunday after Beth had come to Boston.  It was between nine and ten in the morning and Beth and I had walked down from the apartment to buy a newspaper.  At the far corner of the Common is a subway entrance, then a structure where a wide flight of stairs leads down to the subway tracks.  At the top of the stairs is a small newsstand with a newsman standing beside it.  It was just after I had paid him for a newspaper that I thought I saw her.  Beth bent down and picked up one of the papers off a stack on the ground.  The man gave me change, and as I put it into my pocket my head turned, and I looked down the stairs and into the subway station below.  Just as I was looking down into it Melinda, or a girl who I thought was Melinda, was passing through the turnstile.  Two women and a boy went through after her, then she was gone.  I turned to Beth, who was standing beside me with the newspaper under her arm.  'I just saw Melinda,' I said.



 

 

 

The Novel:  Roger Hart is an unmarried, unassuming young man who works as a travel agent in Boston.  He has a sweetheart of sorts named Beth Knudsen –– currently living in Wisconsin where she's studying to be a nurse –– with whom he's been corresponding regularly since they met while she was vacationing with friends in his home city the previous year.

 

The need to answer Beth's latest, rather confusing letter brings Roger to Filene's Department Store late one afternoon as the store is about to close for the day.  He has come to collect the personalized stationery he recently ordered because he feels that having it in his possession may make it easier to compose the reply he has owed Beth for close to two weeks –– a reply in which he must either accept or reject her unexpected if not entirely unwelcome proposal of marriage.

 

Roger has his stationery and is on his way back to the elevator when the elevator abruptly shuts off for the evening, obliging him to use the stairs to reach the store's ground floor exit.  He has just entered the stairwell when a dark-haired girl standing on the floor above faints and tumbles down the stairs, her body coming to rest on the landing a short distance from where he's standing.  Afraid that she may be badly injured, Roger carries her to the store's Linen Department and lays her on a bed where he gives her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.  Happily, the girl –– who comes from South Carolina and whose name turns out to be Melinda Gray –– regains consciousness and, after accepting his embarrassed explanation as to why he was 'kissing' her, asks him to please fetch her a glass of water.  Roger obligingly returns with the water, uncomfortably aware that they could be locked inside the store all night unless they can find its night watchman and have him let them out.

 

They search the store but find no staff anywhere inside it, prompting Roger to remind Melinda that they're trespassing on private property and should probably call the owner or the police to advise them of their unusual predicament.  Melinda, now fully recovered and apparently unfazed at finding herself trapped alone inside the store with a young male stranger, declares she's hungry and offers to make Roger a cheeseburger in its diner –– an establishment she visited, she confesses, before attending the unsuccessful job interview which preceded her fainting spell and subsequent tumble down the stairs.

 

They eat their burgers and discuss Roger's Beth-related dilemma, the pros and cons of marriage and the additional business responsibilities Roger has been obliged to assume while his boss Mr Becker has been vacationing in Ceylon (now known as Sri Lanka).  Their discussion continues while Melinda tries on evening gowns in Ladies Fashions, telling Roger a little about her own life as the neglected daughter of a drunken actress –– admissions which result in him deciding that the best way to resolve his marriage dilemma is to invite Beth back to Boston for a frank discussion about their future.  His mind made up, Roger bids Melinda a grateful farewell and sets off again to locate the night watchman.  Melinda seems content to let him go, requesting only that he tell nobody that she intends to spend the night inside the store.

 

Becoming concerned after finding Melinda's discarded clothes untidily draped over a chair, Roger picks them up with the idea of returning them to her before he leaves.  Melinda, however, is no longer in Ladies Fashions when he returns to speak with her.  She is back in the Linen Department, making up the double bed that Roger carried her to after she fainted.  She soon peels off her borrowed evening gown, gets into the bed and casually suggests that Roger join her –– a suggestion that results in him stripping off his own clothes so he can make love to her, apologizing afterwards for not having made it plain from the outset that he found her attractive. 

 

 

Andre Deutsch Limited first UK edition, 1969

 

 

The following morning sees Roger back at work, awaiting Melinda's arrival at the office so he can keep his promise to introduce her to an acquaintance of his who works at an employment agency.  (They hid in the male and female bathrooms of Filene's after awakening side by side in their borrowed bed, walking out like regular customers once the store had opened for the day.)  When Melinda fails to appear Roger telephones her at her hotel, only to be told that she's busy and will call him back in half an hour.  When she fails to do this, Roger closes the office and visits the hotel, entering her room to find it occupied by a man named Sal Hobbes while Melinda, dressed only in a blue bathrobe, dries her hair in its bathroom.  Sal, whom Melinda met on the bus which brought her to Boston from South Carolina, has offered her a job as his secretary at his advertising firm in New York –– a job she's eager to accept because, as she puts it, she's had enough of New England and is tired of being unemployed and broke.  

 

 

Roger tries to talk Melinda out of leaving, declaring that he has abandoned the idea of marrying Beth and will marry her instead if that's what she would prefer him to do.  But Melinda won't be dissuaded from leaving with Sal who, having been surprisingly tolerant of Roger's interference up till now, gives him an angry shove and tells him to go away.  Despite Roger pleading with her to stay, Melinda follows Sal downstairs, gets into his car and soon drives off with him.  'I stood a few moments looking after them,' Roger explains, 'then turned and walked back up onto the sidewalk.  I stopped next to the parking meter beside the empty space.  It was still ticking.  Just as I was standing beside it there was a loud click; I looked down just as a small red sign came up in the other side of the glass reading VIOLATION.  Then I put my hands in my pocket and began walking slowly toward the travel agency.'

 

The unforeseen loss of Melinda has a strange effect on Roger, causing him to be less diligent about his work and also about small but important daily tasks like keeping the office tidy and well organized.  After a call to the New York operator fails to yield a listing for anyone named Sal Hobbes, he decides to drive there to search for Melinda in person, making it as far as the New England Turnpike before coming to the unhelpful realization that he has no idea whatsoever how to go about this.  He returns home and gradually puts Melinda out of his mind, a task made slightly easier by a call he receives from Mrs Becker, the wife of his boss, who informs him that Mr Becker has suffered a minor heart attack in Ceylon which will indefinitely postpone their return to the United States.  After assuring Mrs Becker that he can continue to run the travel agency in her husband's absence, Roger settles back into his normal if somewhat dull routine.

 

Roger is in the office, attending to the usual set of mundane tasks, when a man comes in and offers to pay him $10 to display a sign in its window advertising the local dog races.  Intrigued, Roger accepts the money and, a short time later, decides to attend the races in the hope that doing so will be an interesting experience that may have the added benefit of distracting him from his difficulties with Beth and Melinda.  After a long tedious drive through early evening traffic, he eventually reaches the dog track and manages to place a bet on the first race, only to find himself being accosted afterwards by a racing tout who turns out to be a pimp.  The pimp tries to sell him the services of a nearby redheaded prostitute for $30, lowering the price by $5 each time Roger politely refuses to make a 'date' with the woman, insisting that he's only there to watch the races.  When the dog he has bet on wins its race, Roger decides to spend his unexpected windfall on a long distance phone call to Beth in Wisconsin.

 

Surprised to hear from him so soon after receiving his latest letter –– a letter in which he deliberately avoided making any reference to her proposal of marriage –– Beth asks him to please forget about it, explaining that it was a mistake caused by the pressure of helping to organize her nursing college's annual Spring Festival.  Instead of being discouraged by this, Roger tells Beth  that he 'needs a change in his life' and, rather than forgetting her proposal, would really like them to be married.  Insisting that it would be nothing but 'escapism' on her part if she became his wife, Beth rings off, leaving him alone in the phone booth where his new friend the pimp quickly sniffs him out.  This time Roger agrees to meet the prostitute who takes him back to her room –– a cheap apartment containing nothing more than a shabby sofa and a single bed –– located across the street from the dog track.  He begins to tell the woman about his call to Beth and his experiences with Melinda, even admitting at one point that the latter may be the true love of his life, not pausing when his new friend, conscious of what they are ostensibly there to do, begins to undress him.  Undaunted, Roger then tells her about his time in the Coast Guard and his life at college and how he became a travel agent, moving on to the subject of his parents while the woman climbs on top on him with the aim of giving him what he paid for.

 

A week later Roger is sitting in the travel agency waiting for some customers to show up when Beth unexpectedly walks in, tearful and confused after quitting nursing school and flying to Boston via Chicago for the purpose of speaking with him face-to-face about their future.  She feels guilty about rejecting him in her last letter, she says, explaining that she wanted them to be married because being together all the time seemed preferable to confining themselves to occasional weekend visits squeezed in between her ongoing nursing exams.  She then shows Roger a few of the books she's been reading –– marriage manuals with which she hopes to expand her rudimentary knowledge of sex –– and suggests they make love behind a filing cabinet where it will be impossible for them to be seen by anybody passing on the street.  They do this and then Beth moves into his apartment, the two of them settling into what passes for normal married life without going to the trouble of formalizing the arrangement in either a church or a registry office.  By this time Roger has come clean about his department store adventure with Melinda, whom he continues to think about from time to time in an abstract 'wonder what she's doing now' type of way.

 

 

Bantam Books USA, c 1970

 

 

Beth is with Roger when he spots Melinda –– or, at least, a girl he thinks is Melinda –– roaming the streets of Boston early one Sunday morning.  Beth encourages him to approach her but unfortunately Melinda disappears before he can do this.  But all is not lost.  A few days later, while he and Beth are out shopping together, Roger spots his fiancée talking to a girl outside a shoe store whom he immediately recognizes as the frustratingly elusive Melinda.  Although he again fails to speak to her, Beth later reveals that Melinda flew to Boston from Chicago –– where she'd gone after leaving Sal to enquire about an already filled job as a waitress in a nightclub –– on the same plane in which she herself flew from Wisconsin to Massachusetts.  Beth also reveals that Melinda was on her way to the train station when Roger spotted them chatting because her new plan is to return to her childhood home in South Carolina.

 

Roger departs immediately for the railway station, boarding Melinda's train only minutes before it's scheduled to pull out.  After finding her in her already paid for seat, he convinces her to disembark from the train and remain in Boston, promising to help her find a job as he promised to do before she ran off to New York with the thoroughly unwholesome Sal Hobbes.  After leading her back to the platform, Roger calls Beth who informs him that the shoe store needs a salesgirl –– a job Melinda applies for and is offered on the spot.  Lacking a place to stay, Beth suggests that Melinda move in with herself and Roger, insisting that the arrangement, while a little unorthodox, will not upset her.

 

That afternoon Roger makes love to Melinda in the bedroom while Beth reads a magazine in the living room.  Not long after this Roger hits upon the idea of the three of them pooling their resources to buy a house together.  Convinced they can make a success of their accidental but collectively beneficial ménage à trois, he makes an appointment with a realtor, telling the man as he shows them through a suitably spacious property in the upscale suburb of Brookline that he, Beth and Melinda are 'just friends.'  Although he seems a little skeptical at first, the realtor eventually accepts this story, inviting Roger to take a look around and keep doing so for as long as he likes.

 

The charm of a novel like Love, Roger lies in the intriguing ambivalence of its characters and their failure to connect with each other in any way except sexually.  As he did so brilliantly in his debut novel The Graduate (1963), Webb reveals a world dominated by inexpressible feelings of anxiety which find their unsatisfying outlet in a convenient if emotionally empty form of sexual fatalism.  The writing is dryly minimalistic, driven largely by dialogue which seems to conceal as much as it reveals about Roger, Beth, Melinda and the difficulties they encounter in attempting to make their minds up not only about each other but also about themselves and what they're seeking from life, love and relationships.  It's their combined sense of uncertainty –– of coincidence and convenience usurping self-knowledge and undermining their ability to take any form of affirmative action –– that makes the book such an interesting examination of the attitudes prevalent among so many young North Americans in the closing years of the 1960s.  Will Roger and his lovers find what they're seeking by moving in together?  Or will contentment continue to elude them, fueled by what is today referred to as FOMO or 'the Fear Of Missing Out'?  Webb is much too clever a writer to provide or even attempt to provide answers to these questions.  Instead, he leaves it to the reader to make up their own mind about Roger, the two not entirely different women in his life and their chances of enjoying any sort of long-term happiness together.

 

 


CHARLES WEBB, c 1980

 

 

 

The Writer:  Everybody knows who 'Mrs Robinson' is and who she was trying to seduce in Mike Nichols's award-winning 1967 cinematic adaptation of The Graduate.  What is less well known is that the characters so memorably portrayed by Anne Bancroft and Dustin Hoffman in the film were born in the imagination of a young Californian novelist named Charles Webb.  'Although the film wasn't my hit,' he told Britain's Telegraph newspaper in 2007, 'my whole life has been measured by it.  I've no idea how life would have turned out had it not been for this phenomenon, but everything would have been very different.  That's for sure.'

 

Webb, the son of a heart specialist, was born on 9 June 1939 in San Francisco and grew up in the southern Californian city of Pasadena, ten miles from downtown Los Angeles.  'My early life,' he said in the short documentary Meeting With An Author made about him by Canal+ in 2007, 'was more or less formed in the Pasadena society which, at the time, was considered for the area sort of créme de la créme.'  Pasadena, an affluent town famous for its pristine collection of pre-World War Two bungalows, would later become the setting for The Graduate with several parts of its subsequent Academy Award winning cinematic adaptation also being filmed there.

 

Webb attended the Chandler School in Pasadena before moving on to Midland, a college prep school located in nearby Los Olivos.  After completing his studies here he departed for Williams College in the eastern state of Massachusetts, from which he graduated in 1961.  'College was pretty much a bore,' Webb later observed, 'but what I recall was that I studied American history and literature as a major.'  He spent most of his time in the company of friends, with whom he 'moved around and hitchhiked around a lot' while somehow maintaining the grade point average required to keep him in school so he wouldn't have to return to California and the stultifying life his parents had long since mapped out for him.  It was in college that his lifelong interest in writing –– primarily drama at this stage –– began to assert itself, culminating in him winning his college's annual award for creativity in his senior year.  He spent 'the next couple of years trying to put together a book that would express my feelings and some kind of story.  I didn't think it was too important what the story was, but I wanted to get it out of my system… I had a pretty negative reaction to my educational experience and this seemed like a good way to get rid of it.  And it turned out to be The Graduate.  But for me that was primarily an opportunity just to leave all that behind.'

 

 

Signet USA film tie-in edition, 1967

 

 

Webb had other reasons for writing the book, not least of which were the difficult relationships he had always had with his wealthy, socially prominent parents.  Although his father helped him to find a publisher for his novel (Edward Burlingame of The New American Library), he was as disapproving of the book and what it said about the people of his exclusive country club milieu as he was of everything else his son had ever tried to do.  'My father's attitude towards The Graduate was illustrative of the way he was.  When the book came out, he was appalled that I could have brought such shame on the family.  Then when the film was a hit, he kept going, "That's my boy!" '  The book elicited a similarly negative response from Webb's mother.  'She was always reading books,' he remembered in his Telegraph interview,  'so I thought I'd see if I could write one.  I was always looking for crumbs of approval from her.  But it didn't work; she was a very disapproving person.'  

 

This perhaps explains why Webb turned down a large inheritance from his father and, after marrying a woman named Eve in 1964, gradually divested himself of all his personal property, including a house in Massachusetts estimated to be worth upward of one million dollars.  He always maintained that there was 'no great principle involved' in his decision to do this'We just felt more comfortable living a fairly basic lifestyle.  Afterwards we traveled about doing all sorts of jobs –– as caretakers, fruit-pickers, dish-washers… those sorts of things.'  

 

He was working in the perfume department of Bullock's Department Store in Pasadena when The Graduate –– the film rights to which he had sold for a flat fee of $20,000 which also ceded ownership of its characters to the purchaser in perpetuity –– was released in 1967, making him an overnight celebrity.  'I'd be going out at the end of the day after work and some guy with a camera would be walking along beside me, taking my picture as I was walking down the sidewalk.  Someone else would be sticking a microphone in my face asking me questions.  It was just very bizarre.'  Unlike the film, which received rave reviews and is now regarded as a classic of twentieth century North American cinema, the novel earned only lukewarm reviews, with several critics being put off by Webb's wry detached dialogue, much of which found its way to the screen unaltered.  Edward Burlingame, however, was immediately struck by the novel's quirky characters and the clearly autobiographical tale it told.  'I was amazed,' the publisher admitted to a journalist in a 2017 interview.  'Not just because it wasn’t what I had anticipated but because it was so original.  It really was a very original book with absolutely brilliant but somewhat weird dialogue.' 

 

Webb's life became equally bizarre following the publication of his second novel Love, Roger in 1969.  Now a father himself, he refused to allow either of his sons to enter the North American school system, preferring to home school them at a time when doing so was illegal in most parts of the country.  He and Eve also divorced in the early 1970s as a form of protest against the institution of marriage.  (They never lived apart and continued to function as man and wife in every respect, something that became increasingly important following the nervous breakdown Eve –– who for many years insisted on being known as Fred as a gesture of solidarity with men named Fred who experienced low self-esteem –– suffered in the early 1980s.)  Somehow, Webb still found time to write, publishing his third novel The Marriage of a Young Stockbroker in 1970 and his fourth Orphans and Other Children five years later despite living what he described as an 'itinerant' life in trailer parks, campsites and cheap, out of the way motels.  The Abolitionist of Clark Gable Place (1976) was followed by Elsinor (1977) and then by Booze (1979) which was the last novel he would publish until 2002 when New Cardiff appeared.  This book served as the basis for the 2003 film Hope Springs starring Colin Firth, Heather Graham and Minnie Driver. 

 

  

CHARLES WEBB, 2005

 

 

Home School, the novel he stated would be definitely be his last, was written in 2005 but not published until 2007 due to the complex legal issues surrounding the ownership of the characters he created for The Graduate.  The book, a sequel to his first novel which sees Benjamin and Elaine fighting to have their children home schooled with the help of the elderly but still wily Mrs Robinson, was reviewed unfavorably by the critics, with the Kirkus Review cynically dismissing it as 'A bit of fluff sure to satisfy those clamoring for a Graduate sequel.'  The reviewer may not have been aware that Webb and Fred, who had moved to England in 1999, were practically destitute at the time it was published and living on the dole in a property loaned to them by someone who had heard of their unpromising plight on the radio.  They were still living in Sussex, in the seaside town of Eastbourne, in 2007 when Webb was interviewed to mark the fortieth anniversary of the release of the film version of The Graduate and promote his final novel.  

 

According to Edward Burlingame, Charles Webb continued to live in Eastbourne after splitting up with Fred some time around 2005.  Webb was apparently still living there when he died of a blood disease on 16 June 2020.

 
 
 
 
Use the links below to read a May 2007 interview with CHARLES WEBB and the comments made about him by EDWARD BURLINGAME in a 2017 story published to mark the fiftieth anniversary of the film adaptation of The Graduate:
 
 
 
 


 
 
 





Penguin Modern Classics UK, 2010



 

 

The film adaptation of The Graduate (1967) –– starring DUSTIN HOFFMAN as Benjamin Braddock, KATHERINE ROSS as Elaine Robinson and ANNE BANCROFT as Mrs Robinson –– remains widely available in various formats in most regions of the world. 

 
  



 
You might also enjoy:
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

Last updated 4 July 2023

 

Thursday, 6 August 2020

The Write Advice 134: JAMIE RAINTREE


When I write, there’s always this very specific situation I want to put the character in.  I think the reason for that is that I want to figure out why!  You come across people in your life and you notice something that happens to them or something that’s going on, and it triggers something within you that asks, 'How would that happen?'  Or 'Why are they in this situation?  Why are they choosing to handle it in this specific way?'  For me, that's what writing a story is all about — discovering that.  For me, the joy of writing is figuring out why.  I get to figure it out as I write it.

Icebreaker: Jamie Raintree [October 2017]


 

Use the link below to read the full 2017 interview with North American novelist JAMIE RAINTREE:

 

https://bookpage.com/interviews/21896-icebreaker-jamie-raintree

 

 

You might also enjoy:

 
The Write Advice 114: ZADIE SMITH

 
The Write Advice 084: EDITH WHARTON

 
The Write Advice 005: EDNA O'BRIEN

Thursday, 30 July 2020

Think About It 057: BLAISE PASCAL


Man is only a reed, the feeblest reed in nature, but he is a thinking reed.  There is no need for the entire universe to arm itself in order to annihilate him:  a vapor, a drop of water, suffices to kill him.  But were the universe to crush him, man would yet be more noble than that which slays him, because he knows that he dies, and the advantage the universe has over him; of this the universe knows nothing.

Les Pensées de M. Pascal sur la religion et sur quelques autres sujets (c 1670) [Translator unspecified]


 

Use the link below to read more about the life and work of French mathematician, theologian and philosopher BLAISE PASCAL (1623–1662):

 

https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/pascal/

 

 

You might also enjoy:

 
Think About It 045: MAHATMA GANDHI

 
Think About It 037: THICH NHAT HAHN

 
Think About It 012: RUMER GODDEN

Thursday, 23 July 2020

Un certain sourire [A Certain Smile] (1956) by FRANÇOISE SAGAN


Le Livre de Poche, c 1960





De plus, je le savais bien, ce jeu –– si jeu il y avait, si jeu il peut y avoir entre deux personnes qui se plaisent vraiment et qui peuvent entrevoir l'une par l'autre une faille, même provisoire, à leur solitude –– ce jeu était dangereux.  Il ne fallait sottement me faire plus forte que je n'étais.  Du jour òu je serais << apprivoisée >>, comme disait Françoise, admise et supportée entièrement par Luc, je ne pourrais sans souffrir le quitter.  Bertrand n'était pas capable d'autre chose que de m'aimer.  Je me disais cela avec tendresse pour Bertrand, mais je pensais à Luc sans réticence.  Car enfin, tout au moins quand on est jeune, dans cette longue tricherie qu'est la vie, rien ne paraît désespérément souhaitable que l'imprudence.  Je n'avais, au reste, jamais rien décidé.  J'avais toujours été choisie.  Pourquoi, une fois de plus, ne pas laisser faire?  Il y aurait charme de Luc, l'ennui quotidien, les soirs.  Tout se ferait tout seul; il était inutile de chercher à savoir.

 

 

What's more, I knew it well, this game –– if there was a game, if there can be a game between two people who truly please each other and glimpse each other through a crack, even temporary, in their solitude –– this game was dangerous.  It would have been foolish to make myself stronger than I was.  From the day when I would be 'tamed,' as Françoise said, admired and supported entirely by Luc, I could not leave him without suffering.  Bertrand was not capable of anything but loving me.  I told myself that with tenderness for Bertrand, but I thought of Luc without hesitation.  Because finally, at least when one is young, in this long swindle that is life, nothing but carelessness seems desperately desirable.  I had, all the same, never decided anything.  I had always been chosen.  Why not let it happen one more time?  There would be Luc's charm, the daily boredom, the evenings.  Everything would be singularly itself; it was useless to try to understand it.

 


Excerpts translated by
  
BR




 

 

 

The Novel:  Dominique is reading law at the Sorbonne and dating her fellow student Bertrand who, despite his intellectualism, does not appear to share her ever-present fear of boredom.  Bertrand is her first lover and for that reason she is able to maintain a certain degree of tenderness toward him which sometimes feels like love until he begins to argue about literature with his friends or strives too hard to find the comedic element in every situation.  Still, she's happy enough to accompany him when he goes to meet his uncle, a traveling businessman, for a drink at a Paris café late one afternoon.  

 

The uncle, whose name is Luc, surprises Dominique by being less ridiculous and a lot more attractive than she expected him to be.  'Il avait les yeux gris, l'air fatigué, presque triste.  D'une certaine manière il est beau.'  [He had grey eyes, an air of weariness, almost sad.  In a certain way he was handsome.]  She is immediately struck by Luc's attempts to monopolize her attention, deciding that he's just the type to make a play for an attractive girl like herself even though she's sleeping with his nephew and has been for a year.  She nevertheless feels flattered by Luc's interest in her, her curiosity further piqued when he invites Bertrand and herself to lunch the day after next so they can meet his wife Françoise.

 

Françoise finds the shabbily dressed Dominique every bit as charming as her husband finds the girl, gladly showing her through their apartment and, when lunch is over, impulsively buying her a new coat while strolling through the streets of Paris in the company of their respective partners.  (Bertrand resents Dominique for accepting this gift and sulks about it for a time, refusing to buy her dinner before taking her back to his house to make love to her again.)  The two couples see a lot more of each other over the next few weeks, strengthening the mutual attraction between Dominique and Luc and encouraging Françoise –– a woman 'si visiblement faite pour la maternité' [so visibly made for maternity] in the girl's view –– to treat her like the daughter she's never had.

 

   

Julliard first French edition, 1956

 

 

It seems a foregone conclusion that the witty, pleasure seeking Luc will make a move of some kind and eventually he does, asking Dominique to dine alone with him one evening while his wife is away visiting friends.  Dominique is once again flattered and intrigued by his attentions, telling herself it's perfectly normal for a young woman who has fallen under the spell of such a handsome and entertaining older man to feel the way she does.  She accepts Luc's invitation, deciding before they meet that their encounter must be 'drôle et sans consequences' [amusing and without consequences].  But this proves not to be the case.  She learns that Luc shares her fear of boredom and, after he drives her to a nearby bar, that he wants to have an 'adventure' with her despite the fact he is generally not interested in sleeping with young inexperienced girls.  Luc doesn't force the issue, leaving it up to Dominique to decide what she wants to do before taking her to watch the sunrise and then back to the boarding house which she shares with her nosy friend Catherine and their fellow students.

 

Dominique tries to put Luc's offer out of her mind, vacillating as always between her strong attraction to him, her genuine fear of hurting Bertrand and Françoise and the feelings of intense joy she sometimes experiences when alone.  (These epiphanies are a key component of her character, demonstrating that she's independent-minded and fundamentally solitary by nature.)  But none of this prevents her from seeing Luc again, though always in the company of at least one of his similarly amusing middle-aged friends.  Nor does it prevent her from agreeing to join him, Françoise and Bertrand for a weekend in the country as the guest of Bertrand's mother. 

 

It is here, toward the end of a tedious dinner party presided over by Betrand's mother (whose name is never revealed), that Luc seizes the opportunity to finally kiss Dominique by announcing to the group that he intends to take her for 'une promenade sentimentale' [a sentimental stroll] in the garden.  Dominique is scared at first and wishes she was safely at home with her own parents in the Yonne, but she doesn't push Luc away.  Her fears conquered, she desires only that she and Luc should go on kissing uninterrupted until dawn, fully aware that this episode is merely the prelude to the 'adventure' he remains committed to enjoying with her.  

 

Two days later they meet secretly in Paris, where Luc suggests they satisfy themselves by taking a short vacation together once Dominique has finished her exams.  'Je ne t'aimerai jamais "pour des vrais", commes des enfants,' he confesses with his usual disconcerting honesty, 'mais nous sommes pareils, toi et moi.  Je n'ai plus seulement envie de coucher avec toi, j'ai envie de vivre avec toi, de partir de toi en vacances.' ['I could never love you "for real," as children say... but we're alike, you and me.  I no longer only need to sleep with you, I need to live with you, to go on vacation with you.']  With the academic year over, Dominique returns to her parents' house in the countryside where she whiles away the hours reading letters from Catherine and Bertrand (with whom she has now broken up), postcards from Françoise and waiting to hear from the frustratingly silent Luc.  Before the end of the month his letter finally arrives, asking her to meet him in Avignon.  She attends this rendezvous, having invented an invitation to go and stay with Catherine as the pretext for cutting short her visit to her parents in whom, of course, she makes no effort to confide.

 

 

Penguin Books UK, c 1985

 

 

Reunited in Avignon, she and Luc now travel on to Cannes where he rents them a suite in one of the city's many luxury hotels.  The Côte d'Azur remains their home for the next two weeks, their days spent on its beaches perfecting their tans and their nights spent drinking and dancing in tourist-packed nightclubs before returning to their room to make love.  The experience of having Luc all to herself is an enlightening one for Dominique who, instead of becoming bored with the arrangement as she feared she was bound to become, soon finds herself doing the unthinkable and falling in love with him despite his pragmatic insistence that under no circumstances should she permit herself to do this.  Her suggestion that their relationship should continue after they return to Paris only annoys Luc who insists that their liaison must be temporary, something to be enjoyed for as long it lasts before he returns to Françoise who, aware of his true nature and wearily accepting of it, never questions him about the affairs he regularly has with other women.  Dominique also accepts this aspect of his personality, admitting that what he says makes sense despite her growing love for him and the guilt she feels at having betrayed Françoise and, to a lesser extent, Bertrand.  'Nous arrivâmes à Paris trés tard dans la nuit.  A la porte d'Italie je regardai Luc qui avait les traits un peu las et je pensai que nous nous étions bien tirés de notre petite aventure, que nous étions vraiment des adultes, civilisés et raisonnables, et je me sentais tout à coup, avec une sorte de rage, affreusement humiliée.'  [We arrived back in Paris very late at night.  At the Porte d'Italie I looked at Luc who had a world-weary expression on his face and I thought that we were wise to pull ourselves out of our little adventure, that we were truly adults, civilized and reasonable, and I suddenly felt, with a sort of rage, horribly humiliated.]

 

Dominique soon resumes her normal routine, attending classes at the Sorbonne, listening to the unwanted advice of Catherine and even fending off Bertrand who, after being apart from her all summer, now declares he wants her back –– a demand she's quick to reject for obvious reasons.  The only thing she craves is a call from Luc who, before they parted, promised to get in touch with her soon.  Two days pass without Dominique hearing from him, prompting her to send him a note which results in another dinner invitation, followed by an evening at the theater with himself and the still unsuspecting Françoise during which he behaves as though they did not just spend a fortnight together sharing the same bed.  Disappointed to realize that he was sincere in his desire to keep their affair temporary, Dominique returns to her parents' house, only to find herself stymied at every turn by her old nemesis boredom.  Seeking relief from it, and eager to sleep with Luc at least one more time, she returns to Paris and the unexpected news that Catherine, her judgemental so-called friend, has 'accidentally' told Bertrand about their affair.  The only person who remains unaware of the fact that they've been lovers, it now seems, is the sweet natured, all forgiving Françoise.

 

This changes the following day when Dominique, more in love with Luc than ever and now feeling quite sorry for herself into the bargain, goes to lunch with him, Françoise and a shifty-looking friend of theirs named Pierre.  The meal proves to be something of an ordeal for Dominique, with Luc telling her on the way to the restaurant that what she feels for him is certain to fade in time.  Both he and Françoise promise to call her as they leave the restaurant but neither of them does.  When Luc does eventually call some time later, it is only to inform her that Françoise now knows everything because Pierre –– someone he erroneously thought he could trust with the tale of their two week stay in Cannes –– has intentionally and very calculatedly betrayed his confidence.  

 

Dominique asks to see Luc and they meet twice more, once at a bar and once in his car which he drives to the Bois de Boulogne to gain them some privacy while he tells her that he'll shortly be leaving for North America on business and will be gone for at least a month.  Although Dominique passionately re-declares her love for him and begs him not to end their relationship, he's incapable of giving her what she wants, adopting instead a patronizing attitude of sympathy before dropping her back at her boarding house where, over the next few days, she falls into a depression relieved only by the thought of writing him a letter that will be so elegantly composed, so uncannily perceptive, that falling madly in love with her will be his only possible response to it.

 

 

Pocket/Le Livre de Poche, c 1990

 

 

Days pass, during which Dominique goes through the motions of living –– spending time with Catherine and a new friend Alain who listens to her tale of woe without passing judgement on her, wandering the streets, dropping in to cafés to play her favorite jazz records on their jukeboxes –– without really living at all.  Only a call from Françoise, inviting her to come for a visit, pulls her out of the paralyzing funk she's fallen into.  But rather than condemn her for her deceitful behavior, Françoise expresses pity for her unhappy situation, reminding her, and not without a certain degree of sadness on her own part, that Luc is a man constitutionally incapable of fidelity.  This attitude –– so mature and, again, so maternal –– opens Dominique's eyes to what she must do.  'Il faillait que Françoise retrouve Luc et son demi-bonheur.  Il faillait je me sacrifice.  Cette dernière pensée me fit sourire.  C'était un dernier effort pour me cacher mon inimportance… Cette résignation âcre comportait un certain optimisme.' [Françoise must regain Luc and her half-happiness.  I must sacrifice myself.  This last thought made me smile.  It was a final effort to hide my own unimportance from myself… This bitter resignation carried with it a certain optimism.]  

 

Ten days later Luc returns to Paris and calls her, inviting her to meet him at a bar for a drink.  Dominique agrees, but something has changed in the meantime, making her less susceptible to his charms than she was before he left the country.  After hanging up the telephone, she returns to her cramped cold room with a smile on her face.  'A nouveau, je le savais, j'étais seule.  J'eus envie de me dire ce mot à moi-même.  Seule.  Seule.  Mais enfin, quoi?  J'étais une femme qui avait aimé un homme.  C'était une histoire simple; il n'y avait pas quoi faire des grimaces.'  [Once again, I knew I was alone.  I needed to say this word to myself.  Alone.  Alone.  But finally, what?  I was a woman who had loved a man.  It was a simple story; no need to pull faces about it.]

 

Françoise Sagan was twenty years old when Un certain sourire, her second novel, was published in 1956.  The book was an immediate success, largely thanks to the scandal generated by her debut novel, a runaway bestseller titled Bonjour Tristesse [Hello Sadness] which was published when she was eighteen and made her the most talked about woman in France and, for a time, in much of the literary anglophone world as well.  Like its predecessor, Un certain sourire displays a maturity well beyond its author's years, allowing her to explore age-old themes of love, jealousy and loss in what was an entirely new and fascinating voice that had its roots in Existentialism and the Nouvelle Roman [New Novel] rather than in the morally unambiguous formulae of traditional romantic fiction.  Sagan's style is spare and direct, short on description but featuring the kind of penetrating psychological insight that is sometimes merciless in its dissection of human behavior and the forces –– lust, boredom, love, lassitude –– which serve to motivate and guide it.  

 

Un certain sourire is really a novel, as Bonjour Tristesse was before it, about growing up and learning to shed your illusions about the concept and the act of love before they become morally inhibiting and emotionally destructive.  Dominique learns a lot about love and heartbreak but she also learns a new appreciation for the solitude she came so close to sacrificing for what, in the end, she realizes was nothing but her own impractical fantasy of Luc and the life they might have shared together had he been a more conventionally-minded man.  She may begin their affair as a girl but she ends it as a woman, confident of her ability to survive whatever life and love may throw at her in future.  Whatever else she may be, she is certainly no dewy-eyed victim of male duplicity.  Love is difficult and painful, yes, but at least it isn't boring.  No need to cry or, as she says, pull faces when the relationship, indeed any relationship, reaches its inevitable conclusion. 

 

 

    

FRANÇOISE SAGAN, 1954

 

 

 

The Writer:  'She was always twelve,' vocalist Juliette Greco said of her friend (and occasional lyricist) Françoise Sagan following the latter's death from a pulmonary embolism on 24 September 2004.  'She did what she wanted.'  Like many an enfant terrible [unruly child] before and after her, Sagan seemed to pay a heavy price for her early success and the notoriety that was, for much of her career, its natural concomitant and, some may suggest, its curse.

 

Sagan was born on 21 June 1935 in Carjac, a town in the Lot region of southern France.  She was the fourth child of Marie and Pierre Quoirez and was doted upon by her well-to-do parents because the child born before her, a boy, had died in infancy, making her birth 'un cadeau du ciel' [a gift from heaven] as far as they were concerned.  As her sister Suzanne later remarked to one of her sibling's biographers:  'Elle était une enfant pourrie-gâtée.  Tout sa vie, elle a joui de totale impunité.'  [She was an over-spoiled child.  All her life, she enjoyed total impunity.]  She was nicknamed 'Kiki' by her family and grew up in privileged circumstances, shielded for the most part from the harsh realities of World War Two by her bourgeois parents who, though anti-semitic by nature, nevertheless risked their lives to hide several Jews from the occupying Germans.  A film she saw at the age of ten, revealing precisely what went on inside the Nazi death camps, would haunt her for the rest of her life. 

 

Having divided their time between the Lot and Paris during the war years, the Quoirez family permanently relocated to the capital in 1945 where Françoise attended several different schools which failed, as did a stint in a boarding school in Grenoble, to tame her independent spirit.  At the age of thirteen she discovered the novels of André Gide, beginning what was to become a crash course in French and foreign literature which saw her immerse herself in the works of Albert Camus, Arthur Rimbaud, Friedrich Nietzsche, Shakespeare, Marcel Proust, Jean Cocteau, William Faulkner, Colette, André Malraux, Jean-Paul Sartre (with whom she would later form a friendship), Ernest Hemingway and F Scott Fitzgerald among many other writers.  She sat her baccalauréat (the French equivalent of the North American SATs and English A Levels) exam in 1951 and failed it, forcing her to re-sit it that summer while her family returned to the Lot for its annual vacation –– a process she repeated the following year before she earned the passing grade that made her eligible to enrol at the Sorbonne.

 

It was during this second attempt to pass her exams –– living alone in the family apartment in Paris and haunting the cafés, nightclubs and jazz bars of St-Germain-des-Prés –– that she decided to write a novel.  This book, which she worked on for two to three hours per day in order, she said, to find out if she could finish it, became Bonjour Tristesse [Hello Sadness].  The first person to read it was her lifelong friend Florence Malraux, daughter of writer (and future Minister of Cultural Affairs) André Malraux, who in turn passed it along to her mother Clara Malraux.  Shocked by what, for its time, was its immorality and frank depictions of both adolescent and adult sex, Clara reluctantly sent it to a young writer named François Nourissier who worked at the firm of Denoël.  Unfortunately for Nourissier and his firm, he never bothered to read it.  

 

In the meantime Sagan was advised by writer and academic Colette Audry, to whom she had submitted the novel on her own account, to revise its ending to make it more tragic.  Audry also recommended three other publishing houses which, in her opinion, might be interested in publishing such a daring book by an untested teenage author.  On 6 January 1954 Sagan sent her manuscript (which prominently featured her date of birth on the title page) to the houses of Gallimard, Plon and Julliard.  Gallimard found the book offensive, Plon did not respond, but Julliard sent her a telegram on 17 January, asking her to call them urgently.  This resulted in an initial offer of F25,000, a figure doubled by the time Sagan signed her parent supervised contract and, at her father's insistence, selected a pen name for herself to protect the family from unwanted scandal.  Given just a few minutes to do this she remembered the Princesse de Sagan, a key character in Proust's masterpiece À la recherche du temps perdu [In Search of Lost Time], and re-invented herself as 'Françoise Sagan.'

 

Bonjour Tristesse was published on 15 March 1954 and shook conservative Catholic France to its core.  While many critics were quick to condemn the book on moral and religious grounds, just as many recognized it as an outstanding new novel, completely original and clearly the work of a prodigiously gifted young writer.  On 24 May it won the Critics' Prize and on 1 June an article about the book, written by no less a figure than the reigning Nobel laureate François Mauriac, appeared in Le Figaro, stating that 'ce prix des Critiques décerné… à un charmant petit monstre de dix-huit ans (dont) le mérite littéraire éclate dès la première page et n'est pas discutable.' [The Critics' Prize has been awarded… to a charming little monster of eighteen (whose) literary merit bursts forth from the first page and is not debatable.]  Love her or loathe her, Sagan had arrived and was now a cultural force to be reckoned with.

 

Her second novel did not appear until 1956 and, like its predecessor, was an instant hit with young people attracted to a writer whose brief but psychologically complex novels seemed to speak both to and for them and dealt specifically with their own social and sexual preoccupations.  She became, with her slight build and sunglasses and trademark jeans and sandals, an appealingly photogenic symbol of youth and the new bohemianism, as iconic as James Dean or any other era-defining celebrity who rose to prominence during the 1950s.  Like the dead North American actor, Sagan was also the victim of a serious car accident on 4 April 1957 which left her in a coma for several days and resulted in her becoming addicted to morphine –– an addiction that saw her enter a detox facility after leaving hospital but one which, along with her existing addictions to prescription medications and alcohol, she would never permanently conquer. 

 

 

FRANÇOISE SAGAN, c 1965

 

 

Un certain sourire [A Certain Smile] made her wealthy enough to have her own entourage and become a frequent visitor to the casinos of Monte Carlo, where she quickly earned a new kind of a notoriety as an uncannily successful gambler.  On the night of 8 August 1958 she won F8,000,000 at the gaming tables, enough to buy her the house in Honfleur that would remain her home until 1991 and allow her to continue indulging her passions for sports cars and the hedonistic Parisian lifestyle she had by then come to personify.  By this time she was married to Guy Schoeller, an editor twenty years her senior who had been one of her 'protecters' since the publication of Bonjour Tristesse, whom she would divorce in 1960.  A second marriage to North American model Robert Westhoff followed two years later along with the birth of her only child, a son named Denis.  'Quand on me l'a mis dans mes bras, j'ai eu une impression d'extravagante euphorie… je sais ce que c'est d'être un arbre avec une nouvelle branche: c'est d'avoir un enfant.'  [When they put him in my arms, I had a feeling of extravagant euphoria… I know what it is to be a tree with a new branch: it's to have a child].  Although she and Westhoff quickly divorced, they continued to share the same house (and presumably the care of their son) until 1972.  By then, Sagan had been in a sexual relationship with Peggy Roche, a former fashion journalist and stylist who would prove to be the love of her life, for several years –– a relationship that was to endure, despite brief affairs with partners of both sexes, until Roche's death in 1991.

 

Sagan's literary reputation was sealed with the publication of Aimez-vous Brahms… [Do You Like Brahms?] in 1959.  Like her first and second novels, her fourth novel was also optioned by Hollywood and adapted for the screen but, unlike them, managed to remain more faithful to its original source material.  The popularity of the 1958 film version of Bonjour Tristesse, which made a star of Jean Seberg, also helped to consolidate Sagan's status as a cultural icon outside her native France, with her work often parodied by journalists who were unable (or unwilling in many cases) to appreciate its subtlety and elegance.  By the mid-1960s she had become an official member of the jet-set, frequently sighted in the company of film stars, pop singers and high profile foreign writers like Truman Capote and Tennessee Williams (whose 1959 play Sweet Bird of Youth she would translate into French in 1971) becoming, as one friend quipped, 'Mademoiselle Chanel de la littérature' [the Chanel of literature].  

 

 

FRANÇOISE SAGAN, c 1990

 

 

Always an industrious writer, Sagan managed to combine the composition of novels –– of which she would publish twenty in total –– with the composition of eleven plays, six film scenarios, numerous song lyrics (for Johnny Hallyday as well as for her old friend Juliette Greco) and dozens of nonfiction pieces including a memoir published in two parts as Avec mon meilleur souvenir [With my fondest memory, 1984] and …Et toute ma sympathie […And All My Sympathy, 1993].  Her heavy workload did not prevent her from supporting political causes such as the movement to end the war in Algeria and, during the 1980s, foreign-based pro-democracy groups like Solidarity.  She reportedly gave away nearly as much money as she earned, supporting members of what, by the 1990s, had become an extended 'family' of friends, lovers and assorted hangers-on for whom she had become a convenient and easily tapped source of cash.  Her involvement in what would come to be known as the Elf affair –– an embezzlement scandal involving the Elf/Aquitaine petroleum company and several high-profile French business and political leaders including her friend, former President François Mitterand –– led to her being charged with tax evasion in 1991, earning her a one year suspended prison sentence and a fine of F4,000,000 which led to her financial ruin.  This setback, combined with her arrest for cocaine possession and other drug-related offences, brought to an inglorious end what had been, in the eyes of her peers and the French media, her seemingly charmed existence.

 

The final years of Sagan's life, which saw her increasingly withdraw from the spotlight after her last novels Un chagrin de passage [A Fleeting Sorrow, 1991) and Le Miroir égaré  [The Lost Mirror, 1993] were attacked by some critics, were marred by addiction, ill-health and alarming periods of rapid weight loss.  Nevertheless, her 2004 death prompted nationwide mourning in France, with President Jacques Chirac stating that 'With her death, France loses one of its most brilliant and sensitive writers –– an eminent figure of our literary life.'  The last word belonged to Sagan herself, who composed her own epitaph for The Dictionary of Authors in 1998 at the request of its editor:  'Sagan, Françoise.  Fit son apparition en 1954, avec un mince roman, Bonjour Tristesse, qui fut un scandale mondial. Sa disparition, après une vie et une œuvre également agréables et bâclées, ne fut un scandale que pour elle-même [Sagan, Françoise.  Made her appearance in 1954, with a slim novel, Bonjour Tristesse, which was a worldwide scandal.  Her disappearance, after a life and a body of work equally agreeable and botched, was a scandal to no one but herself].

 
 
 
 
Use the link below to visit the website of French novelist, essayist, journalist, playwright, screen writer, lyricist and memoirist FRANÇOISE SAGAN (presented entirely in French) where you can view many photographs of her from various stages of her controversial fifty year career:
 
 
 


 
 
 
 
 
You might also enjoy:
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
§