Another day brings another blog post here on EveryLittleThing and today's topic matter is none other than Mauriac's Thérèse Desqueyroux, a book which I admittedly have a soft spot for having studied it at the Eton College Universities Summer School. Without trying to sound like a broken record, now is the time to get all of that extra reading for your personal statement done or to simply immerse yourself in the language(s) that you are learning - for that, be sure to see more posts coming shortly in this series! In my usual fashion, I will give a brief synopsis of the book and then go on to share my thoughts with you. Without further ado, let's jump right in!
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B R I E F S Y N O P S I S
Thérèse Desqueyroux, written by the celebrated French author François Mauriac and published in 1927, is a psychological drama following the struggles of the eponymous protagonist as she aims to free herself from the provincial life that she is trapped in. The novel begins in media res - that is to say, we are instantly thrown in the midst of the action as we find out that Thérèse is being tried in court having been accused of poisoning her husband, Bernard. In spite of the damning evidence against her, the case against Thérèse is dropped and she is forced to return to Bernard in their secluded house, enshrouded in the forests of Argelouse - a rural commune in southwestern France. It is during this journey back home that the timeframe jumps back as Thérèse begins to ponder what led to the sequences of events that had just occurred - and just as Thérèse dwells on what her life once was, we as readers are too constantly wondering whether she is truly a monster or whether she is simply mentally ill. As this is going on, Thérèse begins to simultaneously draw up plans as to how she will confess and explain her acts to Bernard as she arrives home, in the single hope that she will escape punishment and that her husband will let her free. This, however, does not happen - at least not initially - and the protagonist faces a period of solitary confinement where she is left to disintegrate, surviving on wine and cigarettes. It is only following her appearance at Anne's (Bernard's sister's) dinner party and wedding that Thérèse is finally freed from the hands of her captor, with the other dinner guests scandalised by her poor appearance. Though no official separation as such takes place, Bernard takes Thérèse to Paris and bids her farewell, further giving her an allowance to live on.
M Y T H O U G H T S
Above all, being a languages student, I feel I ought to start by commenting on the difficulty of the novel. Speaking from a purely personal point of view, I would say that Thérèse Desqueyroux is in many ways a deceptively difficult novel - in spite of its relatively simple plot and relatively accessible vocabulary. That being said, I would argue that the complexity of it all is the point; be it the muddled sequence of events or the writer's rather poetic style, the intricacy of the novel serves to act as a parallel for the protagonist's state of mind. To aid me in reading this novel for the first time, I would first read a chapter summary in French (you can find the exact summaries I used here) and then proceed to read the chapter in French, allowing myself to look up no more than 5 words per page for time's sake. You could certainly buy the translated copy and read the two simultaneously, or even watch the 2012 film adaptation first - but, as a Year 12/13 A-Level student around the B1/B2 mark, I don't think that this is necessary. In terms of length, it is a rather short novel - dare I say novella- with the Le Livre de Poche edition being 128 pages long.
Aside from the novel's brilliant structure, something else that was particularly striking to me on my first reading, which I briefly hinted at earlier, was simply how well-written this work is. Though a short novel, the plot is incredibly dense and Mauriac tells just enough information to leave certain elements open to interpretation - was Thérèse a lesbian 'in the closet'? I personally don't think so, but there are those who do and convincing arguments to support that - which in turn shape the course of the plot. Furthermore, just as Nabokov did so successfully in his controversial novel Lolita, you simply cannot help but feel sympathy towards Thérèse on a psychological level - despite the fact that she is evidently a self-centered and reckless individual who would appear to go to any length to get what it is she wants. This, of course, spurs a great moral debate in us as readers as to where it is we can draw the line when it comes to reasoning unacceptable behaviour from the psychologically damaged - though rather pertinent today, a particularly interesting debate to consider from the perspective of an early-20th century reader.
Conversely, I must admit that I found the novel's ending to be ever so slightly anti-climactic; in a way, I suppose that Thérèse getting what it is she effectively wants at the end makes the classic narrative of a woman trying to kill her husband less cliché, especially when you consider the period in which the novel was written - but I couldn't help but feel as if it was lacking something. That being said, the open-ending may have given great leeway for the three sequels that followed the publication of this novel - though it is not something I can particularly comment on as I haven't delved into them personally.
All in all, though, this is a novel that I would highly recommend picking up and reading - particularly if you are interested in, or indeed study, psychology. If you are looking to apply for a Joint Honours degree in French and Spanish, I think a great text to compare Thérèse Desqueyroux with would be Crónica de una muerte anunciada in terms of the importance of honour and the effects that societal norms and pressures can have on various individuals.
Aside from the novel's brilliant structure, something else that was particularly striking to me on my first reading, which I briefly hinted at earlier, was simply how well-written this work is. Though a short novel, the plot is incredibly dense and Mauriac tells just enough information to leave certain elements open to interpretation - was Thérèse a lesbian 'in the closet'? I personally don't think so, but there are those who do and convincing arguments to support that - which in turn shape the course of the plot. Furthermore, just as Nabokov did so successfully in his controversial novel Lolita, you simply cannot help but feel sympathy towards Thérèse on a psychological level - despite the fact that she is evidently a self-centered and reckless individual who would appear to go to any length to get what it is she wants. This, of course, spurs a great moral debate in us as readers as to where it is we can draw the line when it comes to reasoning unacceptable behaviour from the psychologically damaged - though rather pertinent today, a particularly interesting debate to consider from the perspective of an early-20th century reader.
Conversely, I must admit that I found the novel's ending to be ever so slightly anti-climactic; in a way, I suppose that Thérèse getting what it is she effectively wants at the end makes the classic narrative of a woman trying to kill her husband less cliché, especially when you consider the period in which the novel was written - but I couldn't help but feel as if it was lacking something. That being said, the open-ending may have given great leeway for the three sequels that followed the publication of this novel - though it is not something I can particularly comment on as I haven't delved into them personally.
All in all, though, this is a novel that I would highly recommend picking up and reading - particularly if you are interested in, or indeed study, psychology. If you are looking to apply for a Joint Honours degree in French and Spanish, I think a great text to compare Thérèse Desqueyroux with would be Crónica de una muerte anunciada in terms of the importance of honour and the effects that societal norms and pressures can have on various individuals.