Exteriors

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Further along, on the same wall, I LOVE YOU ELSA and, in English, IF YOUR CHILDREN ARE HAPPY THEY ARE COMUNISTS. Ernaux’s observations are nothing if not exact, accurate, and faithful; they are as detailed as they are non-judgmental. Exteriors, Fitzcarraldo’s latest translation from the oeuvre of Annie Ernaux, consists of a series of fragmented paragraphs depicting things seen in the world, all taken from diaries kept between 1985 and 1992. Izgalmas, mert úgy mesél Annie Ernauxról, hogy azt a világ apró rebbenései és a krónikás ezekről alkotott benyomásai mögé rejti, azaz egyáltalán nem személytelen.

Of all of Annie Ernaux’s books that I have read (I am about halfway through Annie Ernaux: The Unboxed Set comprising 12 books), I venture to say Exteriors might be her most self-indulgent. So I got involved, heavily involved, deeply involved, right down to ending up with a tube in my womb, all because of a not-very-clever comment, all because of myself. Taking the form of random journal entries over the course of seven years, Exteriors concentrates on the ephemeral encounters that take place just on the periphery of a person’s lived environment. I’ve been thinking a lot whether the reason I like this style of writing so much is because it’s so disjointed and easy to process. Ha együtt utaztunk volna, álltunk volna sorba a hentesnél, biztosan mást vittünk volna haza élményként.All this – the suffering and anxiety of waiting, the brief soulagement of lovemaking, the lethargy and fatigue that follow, the renewal of desire, the little indignities and abjections of both obsession and abandonment – Ernaux tells with calm, almost tranquillized matter-of-factness [that] feels like determination, truth to self, clarity of purpose. I look around the train, glancing the same old sea of faces staring at black mirrors (this is a tired description, and I’m leaving it there). Again, she draws on diary entries she wrote while commuting on the Paris Métro, usually just observing strangers, and seeing how they help her reflect on her own life.

And tied together with the beautiful idea of our own life being projected on strangers, of seeking and getting a deeper understanding of the self by being observant about others. Glimpses, scenes, and pieces of overheard dialogues from Ernaux's life as she commutes from her home on the outskirts of Paris to the capital itself, walks the city, and goes to the supermarket(s). I may also be trying to discover something about myself through them, their attitudes or their conversations.Taking the form of random journal entries over the course of seven years, Exteriors concentrates on the ephemeral encounters that take place just on the periphery of a person’s lived environment.

It's funny how delving into the lives of others, in only a handful of lines, can often prove to be more captivating to read than even the most labored of novels. Her other works include Exteriors, A Girl's Story, A Woman's Story, The Possession, Simple Passion, Happening, I Remain in Darkness, Shame, A Frozen Woman, and A Man's Place.Perhaps that’s a part of the reason, but I also like to think that it just imitates reality and the way we think the closest. Of course, there’s something bleak about a new town already vandalized, but it also signifies verve and humanity. This is the second or third book I've read by Ernaux, who seems to be a favorite of the British publisher Fitzcarraldo Editions, and it's easily the most enjoyable one I've read so far.

In other words, the feelings and thoughts inspired by places and objects are distinct from their cultural content…a supermarket can provide just as much meaning and human truth as a concert hall. Yet at the same time I have this need to record scenes glimpsed on the RER, and people’s words and gestures simply for their own sake, without any ulterior motive. For this Prix Renaudot-winning author, childhood was not just a time of life but a cottage industry.

I read ones about her mother, her father, her early sexual life, an affair with an older, married man, an abortion, all in separate books, many based on detailed diaries she kept over the years. I was tired of wearing the same couple over and over again, but I didn’t want to blow the bank on something extravagant. This was a shorter and older work, also less personal than the auto fiction she is more known for, but it still is very much an interesting read. Exteriors is in many ways the most ecstatic of Ernaux's books – the first in which she appears largely free of the haunting personal relationships she has written about so powerfully elsewhere, and the first in which she is able to leave the past behind her.