The Power Of Nobel Laureate Annie Ernaux

The narrative follows Ernaux바카라�s mother during the last few years of her life, as she struggled with severe cognitive decline due to Alzheimer바카라�s disease. When you바카라�re the primary caregiver for a parent with a debilitating condition, you find that parent-child roles have been acutely reversed. Ernaux was not comfortable with her mother becoming her little girl all of a sudden, a growing discomfort that peaks during a visit to the senior care establishment where her mother was.

바카라�Worse was to come, something I could never have imagined. I opened the drawer of her bedside table to make sure she still had some biscuits. I saw what I believed to be a cookie and took it. It was a human turd. I slammed the drawer shut in utter confusion. Then it occur­red to me that if I left it there, someone would find it, and that subconsciously, I probably wanted this to happen so that they could see how low my mother had fallen. I found a piece of paper and went to flush it down the toilet. I recalled a scene from my childhood: I had hidden some excrements in my bedroom cupboard because I felt too lazy to go downstairs and use the outdoor toilet.바카라�

In October, Ernaux was awarded the 2022 Nobel Prize in Literature for 바카라�the courage and clinical acuity with which she uncovers the roots, estrangements and collective restraints of personal memory바카라�. It was a well-deserved win for the 82-year-old French writer, whose short, intense autobiographical works have a cult following since much before the Nobel happened (in India, her books are available in English translations via the excellent new publishing house Fitzcarraldo, which now boasts two Nobel laureates in less than a decade of existence; the other is the Polish writer Olga Tokarczuk).

The bit about 바카라�clinical acuity바카라� from the Nobel citation is on display in the passage quoted earlier바카라� see how cleverly Ernaux links childhood and old age with the simple but powerful device of human excrement. Also, the shame associated with hiding a turd is tied up with the feelings Ernaux has about her mother in general 바카라� it pains her to see this woman (who was once 바카라�moving towards the world바카라� as Ernaux writes) behaving like an out-of-control toddler, eating nothing but cream cheese and sugary snacks, soiling her sheets and so on. Later in the book, Ernaux admits to being disoriented and unsure about I Remain in Darkness 바카라� not least because her mother바카라�s last years (in the late 1980s) coincided with the writing of A Woman바카라�s Story, the book Ernaux wrote about her mother바카라�s youth. This is an extraordinary admission of self-doubt for a writer but it also shows the emotional and spiritual limits to which Ernaux pushes the written word.

바카라�I am finding it more and more difficult to cope. Because I am writing about my mother바카라�s childhood and adolescence, I can 바카라�picture바카라� her in my mind, radiating energy, beauty and warmth. And then I go and visit her, like today, and catch her in her sleep, mouth gaping, all skin and bone. I need to shout, 바카라�Mummy, it바카라�s me!바카라� The two images are incompatible. In my writing, I am heading toward the moment when she will be confined to her wheelchair in her present state. Suppose she were no longer there, suppose life were to outpace fiction...
I don바카라�t know whether I am engaged in giving the kiss of life or the kiss of death.바카라�

Ernaux is one of those writers whose best works incorporate techniques and rhythms from both fiction and non-fiction, thereby
occupying a hybrid space in the reader바카라�s imagination. This sort of hybridity is more commonly attributed to US writers from the 90s onwards, like William T. Vollmann or David Foster Wallace (or more recently, Ben Lerner), but Ernaux has been doing it since the 80s, at the very least. And of late, she has perfected the method.

In her 2008 book Les Années (translated into English as The Years in 2017, by Allison L. Strayer), Ernaux uses the all-encompassing 바카라�we바카라� to tell not only her own story from the 1940s to the late 2000s, but the story of her entire generation. The Years (marketed as autobiographical fiction, but it could just as easily have swung the other way) is the perfect example of how Ernaux바카라�s writing incorporates the autobiographical within the socio-historical framework of the overarching narrative. The following passage, for example, sees Ernaux moving from the 50s to the 70s in a series of rapid-fire observations on world history: the simultaneity and the breathlessness are rather the points, as we realise about twenty pages into the book. The narrative momentum generated by that omniscient 바카라�we바카라� is incredible.

바카라�The day Saigon fell we realized that we바카라�d never believed an American defeat possible. They were finally paying for the napalm, the little girl on the poster that hung on our walls. We felt the joy and fatigue of things accomplished at last. But disillusion returned. The television showed clusters of humans clinging to boats to flee communist Vietnam. The civilized mug of debonair King Sihanouk of Cambodia, who subscribed to the Canard Enchaîné, could not conceal the ferocity of the Khmer Rouge. Mao was dying and we remembered how, one winter morning in the kitchen, before leaving for school, we heard someone shout 바카라�Stalin is dead!바카라�바카라�

One of the most subtle and beautiful aspects of The Years is watching how the writer바카라�s own worldview evolves with age. This is a uniquely thorny problem to solve as a writer for a number of reasons, beginning with this: evolution is always observer-relative. Chronicling moral growth isn바카라�t as easily achieved as notching a growing child바카라�s height on the kitchen door every March. It is particularly difficult to do so without coming across as a sad sap or as a self-loathing misanthrope.

Ernaux, however, has mapped moral coming-of-age in a virtuoso manner in so many of her books, works that are very different from one another, tonally speaking. Simple Passion comes to mind immediately, as does Shame (translated by Tanya Leslie), in which we meet the writer as a 12-year-old. Its memorable opening salvo (바카라�My father tried to kill my mother one Sunday in June바카라�) sets the tone for a book that바카라�s often deeply uncomfortable to read, but also deeply rewarding by the end. It really is a remarkably moving description of how even a single violent memory can cast a shadow over a young person바카라�s life.

How does memory work differently when you바카라�re suffering from unresolved trauma? Why do we sometimes find ourselves outraged by the smallest of transgressions by strangers? Is there moral redemption to be found in forgiving one바카라�s own transgressions or is that restricted to forgiving others? Shame makes some intriguing observations in these areas and whether or not you concur with her answers or not, it바카라�s always a marvel to watch Ernaux바카라�s mind grappling with these questions.

Ernaux바카라�s father is one of her great subjects, it has to be said. In A Man바카라�s Place (the first of her books that I read; translated by Tanya Leslie) she paints a compelling, complex picture of a man devoted to the idea of work as a quasi-religious activity. He had no use for books or films or music but he told Ernaux that they were 바카라�okay for her바카라�. Class identity guided much of his behaviour. He and his wife (who owned and operated a grocery store/café together) were wary of being seen as wealthy yet took pains to keep up appearances (this, of course, necessarily involved working themselves to the bone). Displays of emotion equalled displays of weakness for him (or at least up until well into old age). The book begins when Ernaux is about to start her training as a teacher, and in this passage, she describes her father바카라�s defensive reaction to this development:

바카라�He was neither worried nor excited to see me lead such a strange, surreal existence. He had come to terms with the fact that I was still learning at the age of twenty or more. 바카라�She바카라�s studying to become a teacher,바카라� he would tell customers. They never asked which subject, it was the title that mattered and anyway he could never remember. 바카라�Modern languages바카라� didn바카라�t ring a bell for him like mathematics or Spanish might have done. He was afraid that people would think me privileged and that they would be seen as rich parents who had pushed me toward the university.바카라�

Writers like Ernaux inspire a very personal brand of devotion precisely because she mines so much of her personal life. The resultant books end up more 바카라�universal바카라� than the best efforts of just about everybody else. Years ago, while in the throes of a personal loss, I read and re-read Joan Didion바카라�s 바카라�grief memoirs바카라� (The Year of Magical Thinking and Blue Nights) as well as other books along those lines, including Sonali Deraniyagala바카라�s Wave. It helped me significantly, I can say with no hesitation. Annie Ernaux is that kind of writer. To avoid putting too fine a point on things, she makes you feel less alone; surely one of literature바카라�s great objectives.

(This appeared in the print edition as "Making You Feel Less Alone")

(Views expressed are personal)

Aditya Mani Jha is a Delhi-based journalist, currently working on a book of essays