La Petite Bijou (Collection Folio) (French Edition) by Patrick Modiano

La Petite Bijou (Collection Folio) (French Edition) Reviews

• 
  Valeriu Gherghel

  Nu de mult, mi-am zis că nu e OK să ignor (deliberat) un prozator de Nobel. Nu te poți numi om citit dacă îți urmezi antipatiile și nu te constrîngi la durerea de a citi ceva care nu-ți place. De mult aveam un dinte în contra lui Patrick Modiano. În 2014, cînd a primit premiul Nobel, Philip Roth mai trăia. Nu e un motiv foarte serios, recunosc. Dar mai am unul.
  
  Cînd Patrick Modiano a luat premiul, toți prietenii mei s-au / m-au întrebat cine e. Am făcut o căutare și am constatat că fusese tradus masiv în română, începînd cu 1975: opt cărți. Cu toate acestea, nimeni nu auzise de el. Iar dacă auzise, uitase. Ciudat!
  
  Așadar, de curînd am ales prin tragere la sorți un roman de Modiano, iar sorții au decis, cu puterea imperativă a Providenței, să fie Micuța Bijou. O sută și ceva de pagini, aproape o povestire, nu-ți ia mult. Dacă ai învățat speed reading, o parcurgi în 13 minute. Eu mă pricep doar la slow reading și am citit-o în două zile. Romanul are o intrigă simplă. Thérèse Carderes, 19 ani, suferă de ceea ce francezii numesc „mal de vivre”, dificultatea de a trăi. Are crize de anxietate, gînduri suicidare și o mare obsesie legată de mama ei, care a părăsit-o, cu ani în urmă, fără nici o explicație, lăsînd-o în grija unei anume Frederique. Thérèse se întreabă: Mai trăiește oare? De ce nu s-a întors din Maroc? De ce nu i-a mai dat nici un semn?
  
  „Mi se spusese că murise demult, în Maroc, şi nu încercasem niciodată să aflu mai mult”.
  
  Într-o zi, întîlnește în metrou o femeie într-un mantou galben uzat și o urmărește compulsiv. Femeia nu-i dă nici un semn de atenție (pare o stafie); Thérèse n-are îndrăzneala să-i vorbească. Femeia seamănă frapant cu mama ei sau, mai bine, cu portretul pe care i l-a lăsat. Întîlnirea o zdruncină și mai mult pe Thérèse. Insomnia și stările de anxietate o strivesc. Din fericire, într-o seară intră într-o farmacie, iar femeia cu ochii verzi de după tejghea se vădește a fi o întruchipare a „bunului samarinean”.
  
  Deși scris de un profesionist, micul roman mi s-a părut, mai degrabă, o proză didactică, edificatoare. Sugestia e că oricît de rău te-ai simți, nu trebuie să-ți pierzi speranța, oamenii sînt buni și miloși. La capătul bulevardului există întotdeauna o farmacie cu ferestrele luminate. Analiza psihologică e grăbită. Nici un personaj nu este conturat suficient, nici Micuța Bijou, nici femeia cu mantoul galben, nimeni. Romanul nu m-a convins. Nu-i nimic. Patrick Modiano a scris destul. Mi-am propus să mai citesc unul. Se intitulează Orizontul.
• 
  Ahmad Sharabiani

  La petite Bijou = Little Jewel, Patrick Modiano
  Modiano’s luminous writing is verified in Little Jewel, a story narrated by a young woman. This person is adrift in Paris, imprisoned in an imperfectly remembered past. One day in the corridors of the metro, nineteen-year-old Thérèse glimpses a woman in a yellow coat. Could this be the mother who long ago abandoned her? Is she still alive? Desperate for answers to questions that have tormented her since childhood, Thérèse pursues the mysterious figure on a quest through the streets of Paris. In classic Modiano style, this book explores the elusive nature of memory, the unyielding power of the past, and the deep human need for identity and connection. The city itself is a major character in Modiano’s work, and timeless moral ambiguities of the post-Occupation years remain hauntingly unresolved.
  تاریخ نخستین خوانش: روز بیست و هفتم ماه جولای سال 2005 میلادی
  عنوان: مرا نگین کوچولو می‌نامیدند؛ نویسنده: پاتریک مودیانو؛ مترجم: ناهید فروغان؛ تهران، اختران، 1383؛ در 135 ص؛ شابک: 9647514395؛ چاپ دوم 1393؛ شابک: 9789647514392؛ موضوع: داستانهای نویسندگان فرانسوی - سده 21 م
  مرا نگین کوچولو می‌نامیدند؛ کتاب دیگری از: «پاتریک مودیانو»، نویسنده ی فرانسوی برنده ی جایزه نوبل سال 2014 میلادی است. همانگونه که در معرفی سایر کتاب‌های «مودیانو» گفته شده؛ آثار «مودیانو»، از لحاظ ساختار و محتوا، شباهت‌های بسیاری دارند. «مرا نگین کوچولو می‌نامیدند» نیز، داستان جستجویی برای هویت، در میان یادمانهای مبهم، و به فراموشی سپرده‌ شده‌ ی بگذشته هاست. همچنین در این کتاب، احساس عدم امنیت، و آسیب‌پذیری ناشی از، از دست دادن‌های پیش از این، با واژه های آشنا، به تصویر کشیده شده است. این کتاب با ترجمه ی بانو «ناهید فروغان»، توسط نشر اختران، نزدیک به دهسال پیش از اعطای جایزه ی نوبل به «پاتریک مودیانو»، منتشر شده است. داستان «مرا نگین کوچولو می‌نامیدند»، از زاویه ی دید شخصیت اصلی کتاب، روایت می‌شود. دختری به نام «ترز»، که هنوز بیست ساله نشده است، و زمانی، او را «نگین کوچولو» می‌نامیدند. «نگین کوچولو» نام هنری ایشان بود، که وقتی او در کودکی، به همراه مادرش، در یک فیلم حضور پیدا کرد، مادرش برای او برگزیده بود. «ترز» به تنهایی، در «پاریس» روزگار می‌گذراند، و در میان یادمانهای رنگ باخته‌ ی بگذشته‌ ی خویش، با هزاران پرسش بی‌پاسخ، غرق شده است. داستان از جایی آغاز می‌شود، که «ترز» در ایستگاه مترو، زنی با مانتوی زرد می‌بیند، و شباهت زن، به تصویر نقاشی شده‌ ای که از مادرش، بر جای مانده، گمان می‌برد، که او مادرش است. حال آنکه شنیده است، مادرش سال‌ها پیش، در «مراکش» درگذشته است، مادرش به «مراکش» سفر کرد، و «ترز» کوچک را، برای همیشه، و بدون هیچ توضیحی، ترک کرد. اما بعید نیست که او مادرش باشد، «ترز» زن را دنبال می‌کند، و در ذهن خود جملات مناسبی، برای آغاز گفتگو پیدا می‌کند، اما شهامت جلو رفتن، و مواجهه با مادرش را ندارد، پس تنها او را دنبال می‌کند. «ترز» در کتاب «مرا نگین کوچولو می‌نامیدند»، بیشتر از احساسش، نسبت به مرور یادمانها، و رخدادهایی که برایش رخ داده است می‌پردازد، در زندگی او، رخداد تازه ای در حال رخدادن نیست. به جز دیدن مادرش در مترو، که نقطه ی عطفی در زندگی اوست. از جمله رخدادهای دیگر، ورود به خانه‌ ای برای پرستاری از فرزند آن خانواده است، دختری که خیلی زود «ترز» را، به یاد کودکی از دست رفته‌ ی خود، می‌اندازد. پدر و مادر دخترک، به طرز غریبی، در مورد او بی‌ مسئولیت هستند، و «ترز» خاطرات اهمال‌های مادرش، در مورد او، و غیاب پدری که هیچ‌گاه ندانست کیست را، به یادش می‌آورد. ا. شربیانی
• 
  Robin

  A deliciously foggy dreamscape of a book.
  
  This was my first experience reading Modiano, French author and the 2014 winner of the Nobel Prize for literature. I could tell at once I was reading a master - a writer who can create an atmosphere that draws the reader in with ease.
  
  The book is about Thérèse, a young woman in Paris, who is often wandering, lost in the tangle of her memories and thoughts, lost in the past. In fact, she is barely present in the world, is almost slipping completely away from it. You wonder if she is reliable as a narrator, because she slides between reality and hazy thoughts so fluidly.
  
  One day she sees a woman who she thinks might be her mother, and follows her. We learn that she lived a largely neglected life with her morphine-addicted and failed-dancer of a mother. Was she abandoned? Is her mother dead? Who is the woman in the yellow coat?
  
  This was a unique and beautiful book for me. It does not employ a traditional plot, but rather a watery and blurry collection of memories and impressions, belonging to a girl who we hope one day will rise to the surface, and breathe fresh air.
  
  A free copy of this book was given to me via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. Thank you, Yale University Press!
• 
  ατζινάβωτο φέγι.

  ''Το χαμένο πράγμα δε θα ξαναβρεθεί ποτέ''
  
  ''Το προάστιο της ζωής δεν προσφέρει κατα κανόνα στους κατοίκους του τις ευκολίες στις οποίες είναι συνηθισμένοι αυτοί που μένουν στο κέντρο των μεγάλων πόλεων''
  
  ''Έτσι θα προσπαθήσουμε να δούμε πιο καθαρά''
  
  ''Για τελευταία φορά, ήθελα να μαζέψω κάποιες ισχνές αναμνήσεις, να ξαναβρώ τα ίχνη της παιδικής μου ηλικίας, σαν το ταξιδιώτη που θα φυλάει στην τσέπη του ως το τέλος μια παλιά ληγμένη ταυτότητα''
  
  Ένας συγκροτημένος, εσωτερικός εφιάλτης μιας νεαρής κοπέλας η οποία προσπαθεί να ανασυνθέσει την μνήμη της και να ξαναβρεί την ταυτότητα της μέσα απο σπαράγματα και αφορμές της πραγματικής της ζωής. Έχει εγκαταλειφθεί απο την μητέρα της όταν ήταν ακόμη πολύ μικρή. Η ζωή της έχει βασιστεί σε πολλα, μικρά ψέμματα και ένα βράδυ το παρελθόν θα γυρίσει οταν θα δεί έκείνο το κίτρινο παλτό που θα την βυθίσει σε μια ατέρμονη αναζήτηση που αδυνατεί να την μοιραστεί με τα άτομα που περνάνε απο την ζωή της. Την κατακλύζει όμως και την απορροφά.
• 
  Anna

  Το συμπέρασμα: μην κάνετε παιδιά αν δεν τα θέλετε... ή μάλλον: βρείτε τα πρώτα με τον εαυτό σας και μετά αναπαραχθείτε...
  Μου αρέσει πολύ αυτή η "μελαγχολία" του έργου του Modiano γιατί είναι βαθιά ψυχοθεραπευτική... μόνο εμένα μου θυμίζει Μουρακάμι και στυλ μόνος-μέσα-σε-ένα-πλήθος-κόσμου;
• 
  Uroš Đurković

  Sigurno postoji neki dobar razlog zašto me Modijanova divna proza (ponovo) ostavlja ravnodušnim.
  
  Istovremeno, tu je sigurno još bolji razlog zbog kojeg znam da ću sigurno čitati još njegovih romana – nostalgičnih fiočica sećanja koje šapuću prigušenu muziku.
  
  Ono što može da se kaže za „U kafeu izgubljene mladosti”, važi i za „Mali dragulj” – posebna atmosfera srodna francuskim novotalasnim filmovima, često igra na krajnje lokalnu kartu – (mito)topografiju Pariza. Bez tih lokalnih priča, suptilnih signala, ne može se delo doživeti u snazi koju ima. Modijanovi junaci su, opet, na propast osuđeni detektivi sećanja čija je uža specijalnost prošlost koja nikad ne prolazi. Životne i prostorne lutalice.
  
  Glavna junakinja ovog romana sreće na stanici ženu koja liči na njenu odavno mrtvu majku. Dok je prati, razlistava joj se, u tračcima pejzaža sete, cela prošlost.
  Sve je utvarno i utvarno lepo.
  
  Vrlo je zanimljivo, u kontekstu teme o gubitku (majke), što je baš Handke preveo ovo delo na nemački.
  
• 
  S©aP

  Le ragioni per cui amare Modiano (o - al contrario - per non amarlo) sono tutte presenti in questo piccolo romanzo. La vicenda è animata da un frammento di memoria importante, precedentemente rimosso, che si riaccende grazie a una coincidenza fortuita. A detto ricordo si allude nel corso di tutta la narrazione, tuttavia sfiorandolo, affinché non torni a divorare l'anima. Ciò fa sì che il relativo-presente (gli avvenimenti che sorreggono la vicenda) sia velato di inquietudine, e che tale resti fino all'esito. Fino, cioè, alla consapevolezza di una reale, liberatrice, imminente "elaborazione del lutto". Là, nel momento esatto in cui l'ultimo particolare del ricordo si salda al presente, e da interrogativo inquietante si trasforma in semplice vita vissuta, la storia s'interrompe, resta sospesa. Rientra in quel flusso di quotidiana esistenza che non richiede attenzione.
  Sfondo a tutto ciò, una Parigi serale, esatta, presente e lontana al tempo stesso, in cui Male e Bene convivono, in equilibrio.
  Chi non ama la discrezione e l'understatement potrebbe annoiarsi alla lettura, o non capire. Manca, negli scritti di Modiano, una fotografia del Male; non ve ne sono descrizioni esteriori, morbose, estetizzanti, comuni a molti best sellers. Ugualmente, chi non desideri affondare nel meccanismo di (propri) ricordi gravosi potrebbe incontrare disagio, anziché diletto.
  Ma con la memoria bisogna fare i conti. Ciascuno a modo suo. Non ci è concesso ignorarla. Ecco: Modiano ne esplora gli angoli oscuri in modo garbato, elegante, senza lasciare che l'oscurità torni a fare inutile danno.
• 
  Sorayya Khan

  Little Jewel is my introduction to Patrick Modiano, and I wish I'd come to him earlier. The novel is a map of loss, from the shards of a young woman's memories to the Paris neighborhoods to which they are connected. The novel is short and spare, the language crystal clear. The language is in striking contrast to the young woman, Little Jewel, who lives not so much in the present, but in the connections she is trying to establish between her memories and the world around her. She sees a woman in a yellow coat she thinks is the mother who abandoned her long ago, and she follows her, perhaps for answers. Little Jewel slips and slides as she attempts to make the most basic question comprehensible. Why did her mother abandon her? What did that mean for her identity? Could she ever be whole again? Was she ever? I experienced the rare clarity of Little Jewel's world, like the sharp smell of ether she mentions, in terrible contrast to the incompleteness of memory, that maddening reality that makes everything go blurry again. Little Jewel's loss is even greater than what she can tell us (or her two friends), because she cannot remember all she longs to.
  
• 
  Mosco

  che fatica diventare grandi, superare un'infanzia raggelante e poco amata, prendere in mano la vita accogliendo la propria parte di amore. Senza continuare a nascondersi cercando di dare il minimo disturbo; senza chiedere scusa per il solo fatto di esistere.
  
  
• 
  Dan

  Thérèse Cardères is barely nineteen. She lives in Paris, with no family, no friends, no plans, no hopes, and no money. Her life is bleak, her emotions restricted to exhaustion and dread. She wanders Paris and the metro. Not the Paris warmly-lit by the nostalgia and memories of many other Modiano protagonists, but a bleak and grey Paris with all the characteristics of an empty moonscape.
  
  Thérèse never knew her father and doesn’t know his identity. Thérèse’s mother was a failed dancer, living in a succession of apartments not her own, with a succession of shady friends. Her mother changed her name frequently — Cardères, O’Dauyé, Borand —
  what’s really her name, anyway? — and she secreted away a seemingly endless cache of large denomination francs of unknown origin. Seemingly devoid of maternal love or even affection for Thérèse, her mother abandoned her by fleeing to Morocco twelve years earlier and supposedly died there. Thérèse remembers her mother as a serial liar: ”. . . she would lie, she would cover her tracks. . . by lying about her age and by giving a false first name. And surname. And even a false title of nobility.” Thérèse sees a middle-aged woman with a dancer’s gait and her mother’s visage at the Châtelet metro station during rush hour and follows her almost to the end of the line and then into a near deserted café: is this truly her mother? Thérèse returns to Châtelet station and the café on other evenings, spies her would-be mother again, and follows her to an apartment block. She learns from the concierge that this woman now goes under yet another name, Boré. As typical with Modiano’s fiction, Little Jewel progresses with addition upon addition of promising but ultimately unsatisfying relationships for Thérèse, who both yearns for and seems incapable of transforming the kindnesses and affection of a middle aged pharmacist who tends to her and a young linguist who cares for her into any semblance of happiness or security. As also typical of Modiano, Little Jewel haunts its reader with an unsettling and unresolved ending: ”from that day on, life was beginning.”
  
  Little Jewel contains many of Modiano’s signature tropes: Paris neighborhoods, missing parents, a mysterious past, lying about oneself and one’s life, youthful poverty, and working class youthful envy of the student life. But Little Jewel is also unusual among Modiano’s novels, with some interesting variations. It’s told in the first person by a female protagonist, Jean Rhys-ian in her hopelessness; Paris, rather than a source of nostalgia, serves as a living urban nightmare of dread and doom; and the shadiness of Thérèse’s mother, as well as her neglect of and even cruelty towards Thérèse, is shadowed by the mysterious family for which Thérèse baby-sits.
  
  Little Jewel was first published in 2001. Modiano started publishing novels in 1968 and, depending upon how one counts up his oeuvre, Little Jewel is almost his twentieth published novel. I’ve read all of Modiano’s novels published in English prior to Little Jewel and I look forward to reading the rest of his fiction and other published work. Yes, even Catherine Certitude, Modiano’s beautifully illustrated children’s book about ballet and the obscure and also beautifully illustrated 28 Paradises. Little Jewel is a fine, disconcerting, and expertly executed novel — sad and thought-provoking — and a good representative of Modiano’s fiction from 1968 to 2001.
  
  4.5 Modiano stars
• 
  Debbie Robson

  I have to admit I’m obsessed by Patrick Modiano. Like Modiano, I believe memory and identity are everything and the author has made both themes his playground; he is the master of both - studying the elusive nature of memory and what the lack of a concrete identity can do to a person. Many of his characters have gaps in their past, strange incidents they can’t fully recall, a parent who disappears for long stretches of time or acquaintances that don’t reveal their real names.
  In Little Jewell his main character is a woman. Nineteen year old Therese is a lost soul, wandering the streets of Paris, without a stable home environment and only the odd job to get by on. She was told that her mother died in Morocco twelve years ago but one night she sees a woman in a yellow coat she believes is her mother.
  “A wide avenue, lined with apartment buildings, on the border between Vincennes and Saint-Mande. Night was falling. She crossed the avenue and went into a phone box. I waited for the lights to change a few times, and then I crossed too. In the phone box, she took a while to find change or a token. I feigned interest in the window of the nearest shop, a chemist displaying the poster that terrified me in my childhood: the devil blowing fire out of his mouth. I turned away. She dialled a number slowly, as if for the fist time and then held the receiver against her ear with both hands. But there was no answer.”
  I have only just begun to work my way through his novels but I find them very satisfying to read. Perception and inertia play their part to in preventing Modiano’s characters from finding peace. It seems his prose also lulls the reader too. I was definitely surprised by the ending. An ending that has a hint of danger but then that’s just my perception of the last few pages. Another reader may feel differently.
• 
  Parastoo Ashtian

  «یک چیز هست که نمی‌توانم بفهمم. چرا مادرتان برای رفتن به مراکش شما را رها کرد؟»
  چقدر عجیب بود که کسی از شما همان پرسشی را بکند که شما پیش از آن یگانه کسی بودید که برای خود طرح می‌کردید... در خانه‌ی فوسو مبرون، گاه متوجه بخش‌هایی از گفت و گوی فردریک با دوستانش می‌شدم. گمان می‌کردند که حرف‌هایشان را نمی شنوم یا کم‌سال‌تر از آنم که آنها را دریابم. واژه‌ها در ذهنم حک شده بودند - به خصوص حرف‌های موخرمایی، همان که مادرم را در آغاز کارش شناخته بود و از او خوشش نمی‌آمد. یک روز گفته بود: «خوشبختانه سونیا پاریس را به موقع ترک کرد...» احتمالا در آن زمان سیزده ساله بودم و این حرف‌ها در نظرم اسرارآمیز می‌نمود، اما جرئت نکرده بودم از فردریک توضیح بخواهم.
  
  از متن کتاب
  
  
• 
  arcobaleno

  Qualcuno suonava uno strumento a percussione.
  Dopo le prime battute frastornanti, durante le quali non capivo dove le note mi portassero, ho trovato un equilibrio di ascolto. Non dovevo fermarmi sui personaggi, cercarne caratteristiche, chiedere precisazioni, ma dovevo entrare nell'ambiente, lasciarmi avvolgere dalla nebbia, trasportare dal vortice. Con una scrittura veloce, a periodi brevi, Modiano permette di rimanere sospesi tra realtà e sogno, memoria e immaginazione, tormenti e solitudini; di girare in tondo, per tornare al punto di partenza; e poi riallontanarsi; o, infine, restare. Ed è proprio questo ciò che Modiano mi ha permesso di fare: avvertire le deformazioni, provare le vertigini e partecipare agli stati d'animo senza bisogno di raccontarli, di precisarli, ma esprimendone le sensazioni dal didentro, grazie anche alla sua scrittura fluttuante eppure sintetica, avvolgente eppure asciutta.
  ... Ne uscivano note chiare e desolate, come una musica di sottofondo
  
  P.S. Mi accorgo, solo dopo averle scritte, che queste impressioni ricalcano sorprendentemente quelle già espresse, un paio di anni fa, nel mio commento a "Riduzione di pena". Oltre a confermare, ora, la mia opinione su Modiano, confermo dunque il mio ringraziamento a ScaP per avermelo fatto conoscere, allora.
  
  
  Consigliato da
  ScaP
  
• 
  LW

  Les arrondissements de l'âme
  
  Ci si perde con Bijou , nei suoi percorsi interiori, nei meandri dei suoi incerti ricordi d'infanzia
  per una Parigi notturna ,labirintica e indecifrabile...
  
  Romanzo enigmatico, sospeso , charmant
  
  I giorni seguivano i giorni senza che niente li distinguesse, in uno scorrere regolare come quello del tapis roulant della stazione Châtelet. Ero trasportata lungo un corridoio senza fine e non avevo neppure bisogno di. camminare.E poi, una sera qualsiasi, all'improvviso avrei visto un cappotto giallo.
  Da quella folla sconosciuta in cui io stessa finivo per confondermi, si staccava un colore che non dovevo perdere di vista se volevo saperne un po' di più su di me.
  - Bisogna trovare un punto fermo affinché la vita smetta di essere questo fluttuare perpetuo...
  
  3 stelline e mezzo
  (mezza stellina in meno per i dialoghi con il misterioso ragazzo incontrato a mezzanotte in una libreria in boulevard de Clichy, goffi in modo irritante ,lui è gentile -oui- ma raggelante :) )
• 
  Daniel

  Ce court roman s'agit des sujets typiques de Modiano: la mémoire, les souvenirs, la réalité, les mensonges, et l'oubli. Un jour au métro, Thérèse voit une femme au manteau jaune qui physiquement lui rappelle sa mère. Mais Thérèse croyait sa mère morte au Maroc depuis des années. Ce croisement hasard lui mène sur une route de souvenirs brumeux de son passé. Son obsession avec la femme au manteau jaune et la distinction entre le vrai et le faux dehors les episodes de son enfance lui laisse dans un incapacité de vivre sa propre vie au présent. Il y a un douceur et un beauté dans le style de Modiano, un style qui se double la qualité de rêve du conte. Surtout il écrit avec un amour profond de Paris qui est sans égal. C'est un très joli roman de mystères psychologiques et de profondeur.
• 
  Siti

  Parigi. Thérèse è alla stazione Chatelet e la sua vita scorre incessante come il tapis roulant che trasporta i parigini per le quattro direttrici della città. Un cappotto giallo, quello di una donna sconosciuta, e il suo viso, incredibilmente uguale a quello della madre , cambiano il corso della sua esistenza che pare mettersi in faticosa marcia solo ora, quando sono ormai dodici anni che nessuno la chiama più Bijou. Decide di seguirla e di riannodare i nodi del passato col pesante presente.
  Modiano affida ad una breve ma intensa narrazione in prima persona la cronistoria di questa ricerca, fa scattare nel lettore i meccanismi di tensione necessari per captare ogni indizio, prefigurare scenari, ipotizzare soluzioni e rendersi in qualche misura partecipe della tensione creativa. Eppure non ambisce a fornirci una storia dai contorni definiti, prepara il terreno per un quid di possibilità che non trova mai conferma. Bijou trova la madre? Bijou ritrova davvero i luoghi della sua infanzia? Bijou riacciuffa se stessa bambina? Bijou, rovistando tra i frammenti della memoria e i pochi cimeli che le sono rimasti, trova conferma della sua storia individuale? Bijou, dove sei Bijou? Il presente le restituisce chiavi di lettura, la illude e la sconvolge ma finalmente la scuote.
  Quanto è difficile abbandonare le illusioni coltivate per dare risposta ad un abbandono? È necessario conoscere i dettagli? È bene sapere a tutti costi una verità o sperare di ricostruirla? Mi pare che Modiano con la fumosità e l’evanescenza del vissuto restituito in questa ricerca abbia voluto rispondere negativamente a tutte le questioni sollevate, lasciando al lettore la consapevolezza che è meglio dare un senso ad un’esperienza, ad un trauma, offrendo una lettura ostica ma efficace senza necessariamente riempirla di un contenuto.
  Interessante modalità narrativa del non detto, del non narrato, del suggerito, potrei dire che è una scrittura che attiva la modalità di riflessione , è efficace ma sconcertante, si imprime sicuramente nella memoria di lettura
• 
  Sophie

  Έτσι, θα προσπαθήσουμε να δούμε πιο καθαρά.
  Ανέκαθεν στα βιβλία Γάλλων συγγραφέων ψάχνω την αίσθηση, τη μαγεία του παλιού γαλλικού κινηματογράφου, των ταινιών του Godard, του Rivette, το�� Chabrol.
  Πρόκειται για ένα noir, με τη στενότερη έννοια του όρου, για μια αναζήτηση, μια επιβεβαίωση της ταυτότητας, της ύπαρξης.
  Μελαγχολικό, απαισιόδοξο έργο, αφήνει τον αναγνώστη σε αδιέξοδο, σε ευρύτερο προβληματισμό και στοχασμό.
  Οι χρόνοι περιπλέκονται, οι τόποι επαναλαμβάνονται, το σύνολο των εμπειριών και των προσώπων της ζωής της Τερέζ, της μικρής Μπιζού, φαντάζει εφιαλτικό.
  Ένα παιχνίδι με τις έννοιες μνήμης-λήθης, φωτός-σκοταδιού, ασφάλειας-απώλειας.
• 
  Gill

  'Little Jewel ' by Patrick Modiano (originally published 2001)
  
  3.5 stars, 7 out of 10
  
  I have previously read
  The Night Watch (originally published 1969) and
  Ring Roads (originally published 1972), both with a different translator from 'Little Jewel'. I have also seen the film
  Lucien Lacombe (1974), for which Modiano collaborated with Louis Malle on the screen play.
  
  I read 'Little Jewel' because I was interested to see how Modiano's writing has developed.
  This translation into English of 'Little Jewel' is published in the UK in 2016.
  
  The story opens with the young female narrator (a first for Modiano) seeing a woman in a yellow coat on the Metro, whom she thinks may be her mother who has abandoned her. The story goes through many twists and turns, and backwards and forwards in time, as we gradually learn a bit more about the narrator, her childhood, her growing up, her relationship with her mother.
  
  I found the story absorbing, and liked the way that the aspects of the various characters were gradually revealed. Although this was in the first person throughout, I found it reminiscent of the way that
  William Faulkner develops his stories through multiple voices.
  
  As in previous novels, Paris itself is a main character in the novel. I appreciated this greatly, but I think this aspect would be more meaningful to me, if I had a more detailed personal knowledge of the city.
  
  I didn't find the writing in this novel as 'edgy' as I did in Modiano's earlier works. Here there is a more elegiac feel. I wonder whether there is any connection with there being a different translator?
  
  I have read several reviews and articles concerning Modiano, that compare his work with that of
  W.G. Sebald. This is an interesting comparison, and is much more apparent to me in this novel than in his earlier works.
  
  I look forward to more of Patrick Modiano's work being translated into English.
  
  Thank you to Yale University Press and to NetGalley for an ARC.
• 
  Josh

  These are a few phrases that come to mind when reading Modiano: poetic dullness, mysterious overtones, sad undertones and unfulfilled storyline.
  
  I've tried, but I can't connect with his writing. The disconnect, after two novellas, is more than enough to make me not want to read him again.
  
  Thank you to Goodreads and Yale University Press for giving this to me for an honest review.
  
  This relationship ends here, Patrick. It's you, not me.
• 
  Maksym Karpovets

  I am nothing. Nothing but a pale shape, silhouetted that evening against the café terrace, waiting for the rain to stop.
  P.Modiano. Missing Person
  
  It was my second meeting with Patrcik Modiano. I clearly remember his sixth novel Rue des Boutiques Obscures which was written in 1978 (he was awarded with by the Prix Goncourt). In that text Modiano had developed his main theme of memory and he continued that in La Petite Bijou.
  
  You could call it poetic prose or metaphysical detective or anything you want, because Modiano tries to unit different techniques in order to observe human personality. According to Modiano and his mini-novel La Petite Bijou we couldn’t exist without past. That’s why main character (18-year-old girl) is looking for key for her past. This psychoanalytical operation sounds fine but in real text I got bored with this question every time I tried to unit all threads of this story.
  
  If you’re looking for atmosphere you’ll get it. In this novel poetic part is bigger that prosaic. Logically, that the right key for this world is how do you feel it, but not how do you understand it. Sometimes I think that Modiano doesn’t really care about characters and he argues with postulate that everything is determined by transcendental powers (whatever it could be – destiny, history or God). The place is more important in Modiano’s novels that people. It seems that he believes that we are not define the world, but world defines us. And nothing can be done with it.
  
  3
• 
  Claudiu

  Anul acesta am citit mai multe (micro)romane de Patrick Modiano. Mai am inca unul pe lista si cred ca am ajuns la saturatie.
  La fel ca in mai toate romanele sale (cele pe care le-am citit, desigur), personajele sale sunt intr-o continua cautare a identitatii, intr-un timp nedefinit. Numele personajelor si alte detalii sunt, oricum, irelevante. Daca timpul este nedefinit, spatiul este marcat cu precizia Google Maps.
  Modiano imi face impresia unui autor cu o singura tema repetata si ras-repetata.
• 
  Ioana

  O carte potrivită pentru vremea tomnatică de afară, dar care nu a strălucit în ceea ce privește finalul.
• 
  Γιώργος

  Ο τρόπος γραφής του Μοντιανό είναι τόσο απίστευτος που τον λατρεύεις από την πρώτη λέξη. Η μνήμη-λήθη και η χαμένη ταυτότητα, η απουσία του πατέρα είναι ξανά τα θέματα με τα οποία ασχολείται ο Μοντιανό και στο La Petite Bijou και το κάνει με εξαιρετικό τρόπο. Μελαγχολία, Παρίσι, το μετρό του Παρισίου, το Δάσος της Βουλόνης, ήρωες χαμένοι στις ζωές τους και τις μνήμες τους, προσπάθεια της ηρωίδας να θυμηθεί με πολλές διακοπτόμενες αναμνήσεις που προκύπτουν χωρίς καμία προειδοποίηση και μπερδεύουν τον αναγνώστη οδηγώντας σε μια ονειρική ανάγνωση.
  
  Ο Μοντιανό στο La Petite Bijou χειρίζεται τα γαλλικά με έναν περίεργο τρόπο χρησιμοποιώντας συνεχώς τον Plus-que-parfait (υπερσυντέλικο) προσπαθώντας να αποδώσει το χάος που επικρατεί στο μυαλό της ηρωίδας, το μπλέξιμο του χρόνου και ταυτόχρονα μπερδεύει και τον αναγνώστη σε αυτό το ονειρικό ταξίδι στην Μνήμη.
  
  De toute cette foule d’inconnus à laquelle je finissais par me confondre, une couleur se détacherait que je ne devrais pas perdre de vue si je voulais en savoir un peu plus long sur moi-même.
  « Il faut trouver un point fixe pour que la vie cesse d’être ce flottement perpétuel… »
  --------------------------------------------------------------------
  Qui étions-nous toutes les deux ? Une femme d’âge incertain et une jeune fille perdues dans la foule du métro. De cette foule, personne n’aurait réussi à nous distinguer. Et quand nous étions remontées à l’air libre, nous étions semblables à des milliers et des milliers de gens qui reviennent le soir dans leur banlieue.
  
  
  
  
• 
  Rebecka

  Weird, but very good! There are at least three different stories of interestt here, and they're all just left hanging, which is both intriguing and a bit frustrating.
• 
  Natalie

  Teško djetinjstvo, bez pružene ljubavi, dovede upravo do ovako izgubljene odrasle osobe.
• 
  Diane

  She's 19 and it's been 12 years since she saw last saw her mom. She had been told her mom had died in Morocco. So who is this woman she saw at the Metro Châtelet who looks so much like her mom? She follows her.
  
  This will be the start of her mental breakdown. So far, she'd kept it together, the memory of her unstable childhood with an unstable mother and the absence of her father. Seeing her dead mom bring everything to the surface. She was unloved, yes, but unloved to the point of being abandoned by the only parent she had left? She cracks.
  
  This is a poignant short story by Modiano (Nobel Prize 2014) that talks about neglected children and the solitude of pain. The style is very elegant, measured and respectful.
• 
  George K.

  Αυτό το μικρό και ωραίο βιβλιαράκι είναι η πρώτη μου επαφή με το έργο του Πατρίκ Μοντιανό, βραβευμένου με Νόμπελ Λογοτεχνίας το 2014. Πρόκειται για ένα χαμηλών τόνων και μελαγχολικό νουάρ, έτσι όπως μόνο οι Γάλλοι μπορούν να γράψουν (εκτός, ίσως, από κάποιες εξαιρέσεις).
  
  Πρωταγωνίστρια είναι μια νεαρή κοπέλα με ελαττωματική μνήμη, που τριγυρίζοντας στα βουλεβάρτα και τα πάρκα, τους σταθμούς του μετρό και τα διάφορα "καφέ" του Παρισιού, προσπαθεί να ανασυνθέσει τα παιδικά της χρόνια, να εντοπίσει κάποια τραύματα, να κάνει μια νέα αρχή. Όλα αυτά με αφορμή μια γυναίκα με κίτρινο παλτό που είδε στο μετρό, η οποία έμοιαζε πολύ με την χαμένη μητέρα της.
  
  Η πλοκή κινείται με αργούς και σταθερούς ρυθμούς, χωρίς εξάρσεις και ένταση, καταφέρνει όμως να κρατάει το ενδιαφέρον του αναγνώστη μέχρι το φινάλε. Ο συγγραφέας μας πηγαίνει αρκετά συχνά μπρος-πίσω στον χρόνο και μας δείχνει το μπερδεμένο μυαλό της συμπαθητικής αλλά μοναχικής πρωταγωνίστριας. Προσωπικά αυτό το στιλ μου άρεσε πολύ, αλλά θέλει λίγη προσοχή, γιατί μπορεί να μπερδευτεί κανείς. Το Παρισινό σκηνικό περιγράφεται με λιτό και εξαιρετικό τρόπο και η ατμόσφαιρα είναι σαφώς εξαιρετική, κάπως σκοτε��νή και ίσως απαισιόδοξη.
  
  Γενικά είναι ένα πολύ καλό βιβλίο, ήρεμο και μελαγχολικό, που δίνει ευκαιρίες για προβληματισμό και στοχασμό πάνω στην μοναξιά, την ταυτότητα και την μνήμη του παρελθόντος. Η ελληνική έκδοση (Πόλις) κλασικά πολύ ωραία και προσεγμένη. Το μόνο σίγουρο είναι ότι θα διαβάσω και άλλα βιβλία του συγγραφέα.
• 
  Lauren

  I am working my way through Modiano books and i love them .i am sorry i have discovered him so late in life, my younger self would have been enchanted by them.The lone young woman in this story in search of her mother and anyone else who pays attention to her is very melancholy.She attached herself to men she meets at cafes one who is a translator,and becomes a sort of nanny to a young girl in a mysterious family ,who have no time for her. the streets are dark lonely foggy and then she thinks she has found out more about her mother who left her and ran away with someone to Morocco.Later in the book the skies are Morocco Blue as she makes her way trying to figure out her life. I love the image of her following the woman in the yellow coat a scene that could become a painting. Such beautiful if longing writing ,he is very unique in his style.
• 
  Susanna

  Inget för mig. Jag orkar inte förstå det här. Ung tjej går omkring och ältar sitt förflutna och en massa adresser i Paris rabblas. Hepp.
• 
  G

  Narrativa del susurro, del desamparo, de la perseverancia involuntaria de la dignidad. Modiano escribe siempre sobre lo mismo. Cada novela suya es una variante de una gran novela que nunca escribió y que tampoco podría escribir porque no tiene palabras. En este caso, el abandono infantil toma la forma del relato de una niña que nunca dejó de serlo al crecer. Su apodo le viene de un perrito perdido, de un accesorio artístico de su madre que fracasó en los escenarios. La persecución de fantasmas de recuerdos por el metro de París. Los bajos fondos, las identidades oscuras. La niña desamparada que trabaja de niñera. Que el daño durante la infancia genera duplicidad es algo tan literario, como científico. Modiano está lleno de dobles. Por lo mismo, hay algo extraño en esta narrativa tan sosegada, tan prístina, que se asoma al abismo, peligro de Babel. No tanto por ese surrealismo sobrio que alivia la opresión emocional de los personajes, sino justamente por la sobriedad. No se rompe el mundo cuando irrumpe lo extraño. Sigue todo igual. Quizás Modiano escribe desde una forma de melancolía personal, muy elaborada, que se ha vuelto funcional. Por algún rebote estético que sería interesante estudiar, esa melancolía se transforma en ternura. Una dulzura restitutiva. Un consuelo mínimo que se amplifica hasta cubrirlo todo. Quizás por eso Modiano sea tan adictivo. La eficacia de los opiáceos no está en el opio, sino en la química del ser humano.