| Title | : | The Vagabond |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0374528047 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780374528041 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 224 |
| Publication | : | First published January 1, 1910 |
The Vagabond Reviews
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(Revised and pictures added 4/20)
Long before Cher and Madonna thought they invented “first names only,” there was Colette (1873-1954). (There’s a word for that: mononymous.) And long before gay rights, Collette, who was bisexual, flaunted her numerous lesbian affairs. Of course this was Paris, not Peoria. In addition to being an author, Colette was a stage performer – actress, mime and dancer and that time of her life informs this book, considered an early feminist novel.
So our main character is a 33-year old woman, footloose at the moment. It’s been three years since her divorce. She was married to an artist who beat her and who spent most of his time bedding other women. Still, she stayed with him for eight years. Now she is independent and really loves her work as an actress, mime and dancer (like Colette) . Now she has acquired an admirer. He’s unmarried, persistent, very well off, good-enough looking and he loves her and wants to marry her. She’s fond of him, maybe even in love with him, and she’s tempted.
She goes on the road for a 40-day show tour without him and promises to give him her answer when she returns. They exchange letters and she starts to weigh his words: “This is what I want for us…” Her earlier experience tells her this will only last a few years; this is France around 1900 --- all well-off married men take a mistress after a few years of marriage. But as she tells us many times, she is 33, so she feels her clock is ticking.
The blurbs tell us that Erica Jong called this book “…one of the first and best feminine novels ever written…” That’s quite an endorsement. I’ve read that the title, “The Vagabond,” is in error and it really should be more properly translated as “The Wanderer.”
Interspersed with the narrative are many exquisite passages describing flowers, trees and the seasons. Colette has quite an eye for nature, if you like flowery paragraphs. In fact, here is a link to a story about Colette being a gardening enthusiast:
https://lithub.com/how-plants-helped-...
I liked the story and the writing style. It was fairly fast-paced and kept my attention without flagging.
Top photo: Paris street from
si.wsj.net/public/resources/images
Paris stage production from guardian.co.uk
Collage "The Many Faces of Colette" from hips.hearstapps.com -
I've enjoyed all the Colette books that I have read, but The Vagabond is my favorite. Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette, a French writer in the early 20th century, created the memorable characters of Gigi, Cheri, Claudine, and from The Vagabond, Renee Here. Renee gave her love to her first husband who cheated on her and left her. Now at age 33 she is independent, working as a successful dancer and actor, lonely, but afraid to give her heart to anyone again. Then along comes the handsome and rich bachelor, Maxime, who falls in love with Renee, and she is torn between the temptation to give herself to love again, or to remain in her cocoon of loneliness and independence. You can tell that Colette is writing from experience, and with a passion and beauty that simply flows from the page. For my friends who haven't read Colette, give The Vagabond a try, I think you might be pleasantly surprised.
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If I were two people, I’d mistakenly recommend this book to me. The Vagabond is in love with love, and lives entirely from the heart; she’s an introspective, vaudeville performer who travels with a friend, but needs to live alone. She’s divorced from an abusive man and living successfully on her own. But overall, I was bored.
I think this might have appealed to me 25 years ago, when I found it hard to surrender to another. To be a woman is to be marked, no matter what you do, and we all want to be loved for what’s inside:
“He pretends to forget that he desires me, he doesn’t show any urge to discover me, either, to question me, to divine me, and I see him more attentive to the play of light on my hair than to what I’m saying.”
The story is a simple will-she-won’t-she, weighted by the narrator, Renée’s, previous trauma with her x-husband. It’s insightful, and one of the things I found most poignant was how Renée confused masochistic surrender with what it meant to love. It also touched on how hard it is for any of us to self-actualize while building a partnership at home.
But meaning became meaningless in the search. I had a similar experience with Clarice Lispector’s writing in ‘An Apprenticeship, or The Book of Pleasures,’ which felt like the polar opposite of Colette’s here, like the flip side of the same coin. Both protagonists are extremely relational, yet too tangled inside to connect. Unfortunately, this trait carried over from writer to reader: Colette diced all feeling in an upward swirl as I grasped at her fragments, whereas Lispector condensed it all into a mass I couldn’t haul. My feelings about this book were as labile as Renée’s, and ultimately, I wanted to be free. -
Why in the world did I like this so much?
Is it the plot? It is about a music-hall dancer, Rénée Néré. She is thirty-three, a Parisian of Montmartre, a recent divorcée. She is burnt by marriage. She is determined and hardened, but honestly she is really just hurt. Hard on the surface and determined to survive. Will she choose to manage on her own or will she marry into an easy life of comfort and wealth…but what must she sacrifice then? What does she really want? We watch her path toward self-discovery.
The book is partially autobiographical, but it was first published in 1910, while the author, Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette, died much later in 1954, so it can only be about her younger years. She was born 1873. Any peek at Wiki will tell you that the author married three times and had both scandalous lesbian and heterosexual relationships. When you read the book you don't know how she will choose. You watch, and I found it totally convincing. I think this is what I found so wonderful with the book.
What was life like at the turn of the 20th Century for the music-hall dancers of Paris? This is why I chose the book, but it turned out to be much more of a look at one woman’s choices. I am convinced she made the right choice for her, and that means I got to know who she was, not just any music-hall dancer.
Then there is the writing. First I found the writing florid, filled with words and phrases such as "whence" and "thou" and "his prompt docility" or "in a moment of exquisite bliss". Antiquated? Dated? I started with dislike but grew to marvel at how expertly the author depicted situations and places and emotions. By the end I thought it read as poetry. Does this also reflect the author’s passage toward becoming a writer? I usually like simple writing, and that is not what is delivered, but I certainly liked this. Another surprise.
The narration of the audiobbok by Johanna Ward was f-a-n-t-a-s-t-i-c!!!! It could not have been better. Perfect French and the tone perfectly matched Rénée/Colette. The story is told in the first person narrative so we are listening to Rénée words and thoughts. She must have sounded exactly so! Maybe the audio version further enhances the believability of the story told.
I don’t like short novels, but I really liked this! Both its exquisite writing and how it was so thoroughly convincing! You must know that Colette also wrote Gigi which became both a film and a stage production. -
This is probably the most beautiful piece of writing I've ever found. If there is a more honest exposition, a more sincere appraisal, of the narrative we live when not consumed by mundane distractions, I look forward to your recommendations.
Colette's talent lies in enumerating the sensory details we barely notice and explicating the relationship between the tactile and the emotional. In an existential sense, this is a novel about nature and desire, surrender and choice. But forget the philosophical superimposition, the existential battyfang is reductionist. The Vagabond is simultaneously primal and detached. When all is said and done, you go to ground because who you are is constructed from where you come from. And where you come from is made of smells, fabric, the ambient temperature to which you're accustomed, the color of the foliage and how it turns with the season.
That said, it's impossible to capture the novel in a few sentences. It's deception, it's contrast, it's doubt, it's an assertion of will, it's protofeminism, it's submission... for starters.
Obviously, you just have to read it. More than once. -
![Celeste Corrêa [ Férias]](https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/users/1710705591i/88222355._UY200_CR3,0,200,200_.jpg)
Uma mulher itinerante
A protagonista, Renée, escritora e artista de music-hall, dividida entre um novo amor e a liberdade depois de um casamento terminado por razões de traição, um marido pouco recomendável, que inclusive lhe roubou direitos de autor.
Desgostos ciosamente escondidos endureceram esta mulher acerca da qual se exclama que é feita de aço, ou simplesmente «feita de mulher».
O casamento é para ela domesticidade conjugal, uma transformação de mulheres numa espécie de amas de adultos, é tremer com receio de que a costeleta do senhor fique demasiado passada, de que a água de Vittel não esteja suficientemente fresca, de que a camisa esteja mal engomada, o colarinho postiço mole, o banho a ferver… É assumir o esgotante papel entre o mau humor do senhor, a avareza do senhor, a gula e a preguiça do senhor…
Aparece Maxime, um homem rico e ocioso, que lhe oferece um casamento «como um recinto cheio de sol, cercado por muros sólidos.»
Inicialmente receptiva - uma tournée acontece -, e depois de muitas cartas trocadas, Renée conclui que não quer donos que a roubem a si própria, segura que tem companheiros de viagem e que Deus concede magníficos bens aos vagueantes, aos nómadas, aos solitários.
Uma reflexão sobre o amor, o casamento, a liberdade, a vida profissional e, simultaneamente, um grito à liberdade da mulher.
Admirei esta personagem, sua honestidade e determinação; mas lembremo-nos que mulheres como esta sempre existiram, não só na ficção, mas essencialmente ao nosso redor.
«Meu querido, um dia compreenderá tudo isto. Compreenderá que eu não deveria ser sua, nem de ninguém, e que apesar de um primeiro casamento e de um segundo amor fui sempre uma espécie de solteirona…solteirona como algumas a quem, de tão apaixonadas pelo Amor, nenhum amor lhes parece suficientemente belo e se recusam sem se dignarem explicar porquê (…)» -
Nesta obra-prima de Sidonie Gabrielle Colette, escrita em 1910, o enredo e a realidade se misturam, pois o livro é extremamente autobiográfico.
Renne uma promissora escritora, se separa do marido que a traiu e roubou lhe seus textos literários, e parte para o mundo do teatro, da dança, do music hall.
Independente e feminista, vive uma vida de "vagabunda" fazendo o que bem quer da vida, sendo na esfera sexual ou social. Era dona de si, livre e sendo sempre cobiçada pelos homens que sempre desprezava.
Até que um dia se depara com um jovem da sua idade, que praticamente a venera a qual ela também despreza o chamando sempre de " o grande paspalho."
Jovem e rico , Maxime, era o seu nome, fará de tudo para conseguir conquistar Renne .
Mas será que ela vai abrir mão de toda essa liberdade que adquiriu? Ou não estará ela já cansada dessa vida de dançarina, e merecidamente descansará no colo do pobre paspalho?? Ou as feridas do casamento anterior pesará negativamente em sua vida atual??
Parece tudo clichê, um romance barato, mas esse livro é um dos melhores livros que já pude ler…. sensacional, profundo, polêmico, destacou os desafios que as mulheres enfrentavam para alcançar a independência na sociedade francesa.
Amei minha primeira leitura de Colette!!! -
due veloci considerazioni:
- se nella Parigi di inizio '900 ci fossero stati gli antibiotici, quanti libri/opere in meno! son tutti lì a espettorare, con complessioni rachitiche e necessità di svernare al caldo;
- quanto se la racconta/ce la racconta Colette la sua scelta di rinunciare in toto al maschio protettore?
Romanzo interessante per il tema ma che a parte qualche sprazzo narrativo felice, e una vena ironica serpeggiante, non sopravvive alla propria verbosità e anche alla sostanziale ipocrisia.
La protagonista si è liberata da un marito tossico, che oltre a menarla la umilia usandola per i suoi tripli-quadrupli ménage, e si è data all'unica arte che le consenta quella libertà a cui ambisce: calcare i palcoscenici dei café chantant.
Arriva il principe azzurro, Max-il-bamboccione, che giustamente è visto come un moscone che le ronza attorno, e disturba la quotidianità fatta di routine di Renata. Solo che Renata alla fin fine soccombe all'amore, anzi alle braccia muscolose di Max che le danno quel fremito perduto.
Visto che siamo dalle parti della 3a repubblica e la Francia ondeggia tra il moralismo fissato dalla tragica fine della dame aux camélias e la sfrenatezza della belle époque, c'è un limite a quello che Colette può dire o far trasparire. Non tanto perchè non ci fossero precedenti, quanto perché pure lei aspirava a rifarsi una reputazione di donna libera che non ha bisogno di mariti e/o amanti e vive con la cagnetta e qualche amico. Al sesso allude (e illude il caro Max) ma sarà per un'altra volta.
Non invecchia benissimo la scrittura di Colette, mentre i suoi temi ahimè sono sempre lì a ricordarci che nelle equazioni sentimentali non ci sono mai soluzioni certe. -
I went into this not really knowing what to expect but The Vagabond is a beautifully written novel about Renee- a woman in her early 30's who is divorced from her abusive, philandering husband and now works as a performer. Most of the novel follows her gaining a new admirer who wants more commitment than she may be willing to offer.
I kind of ended up loving this. It's a fascinating window into female life in early 1900's France and we see Renee experience the pull of romance and desire, while also factoring in the way that marriage would constrain her life and remove some of her agency. It's a nuanced exploration of how women can want opposing things, gendered expectations in marriage, and the impact of aging on perceived desirability of women versus men.
It's clear that Colette's own life probably influenced much of this book, which makes it all the more interesting hearing about Renee's early marriage. The novel is fast-paced and a quick read, definitely worth a look. -
Beautifully written but not at all what I expected. I guess that I was thinking it would be something like Gigi; instead, it is the painfully melancholy story of a woman so wounded by her failed marriage that she is struggling to suppress all emotional attachments.
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Plutôt un 6 sur 5 !
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O fato desse livro ter sido escrito em 1910 só o deixa mais incrível, porque MEU DEUS ele nunca foi tão atual!
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First off, I am bias towards this book, as any reader would be who finds a character too like-minded, too closely resembling her own set of cirsumstances. That being said, once the bond is created it then becomes a personal betrayal when the internal monologue is not the one the reader would have when their self-like character confronts the world.
What does any of this have to do with "The Vagabond?" Well, to be frank, the internal monologue didn't stray too far off from what I would of thought in those circumstances, actually what I did think in those circumstances. Writers are often told to write what they know, Colete certainly did. Fortunately what she knew was also fascinating, and bold considering the era.
But social relevance aside, the writing itself is rich with sensory detail, even the furniture of her Bohemian apartment takes on a personality that haunts our dear Renee in the later chapters. The life of the music hall performer is also infused with details that only a pro would know. The smells, tastes, colors, and scenes of an artist's everyday existence are related with a tenderness that enchants the reader. Colete is careful to remind us that this life has value, order, and gives Renee an independence and pride that she cannot find anywhere else: not in the arms of a lover, or the company of a friend. -
Colette dit je et parle au présent, quand elle écrit Renée.
Renée est artiste de music-hall pour mieux être libre, libre de son premier mari, libre amoureusement et financièrement. Mais saura-t-elle garder cette indépendance, après sa rencontre avec Maxime, un riche héritier qui s'éprend d'elle ?
A travers un texte simple et direct, parfois fragile et d'autres fois travaillé, Colette parle de l'indépendance de la femme, tout en décrivant son monde de music-hall, peuplé d'acrobates aux visages fardés, et bordé de froufrous. L'écriture nous emmène, sans plan et sans schéma, comme dans un journal intime, captivante et inattendue.
Certains passages sont mémorables, j'aime celui-ci sur la perception du lesbianisme, à la fois datée et très belle :
"A quoi bon lui expliquer ?... Deux femmes enlacées ne seront jamais pour lui qu'un groupe polisson, et non l'image mélancolique et touchante de deux faiblesses, peut-être réfugiées aux bras l'une de l'autre pour y dormir, y pleurer, fuir l'homme souvent méchant, et goûter, mieux que tout plaisir, l'amer bonheur de se sentir pareilles, infimes, oubliées... A quoi bon écrire, et plaider, et discuter ?... Mon voluptueux ami ne comprend que l'amour..." p. 252 -
É diferente do que eu esperava, ao menos a descrição que vi em certos lugares torna a protagonista muito menos pudica do que de fato ela é, mas mesmo com uma impressão errada de se colocar a liberdade acima do temor que ela de fato sente, é uma boa obra à frente de seu tempo que aplaca a irritante lenda de que tudo que uma mulher de fato quer é um homem.
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Story of an emancipated woman, but very subtil presentation. Good atmospheric description of the cabaret world around the turn of the century. Sometimes a bit too much introspection: especially the 2nd half of part 1 and the start of part 2 seem rather superfluous.
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This is one of those Colette’s that’ll break you open. It’s all so very adult and lived-in and exists somewhere all of us over a certain age have doubtlessly experienced.
I’ve never come across her writing better than here. Her escalating inner monologue steadily climbs, inexorably; all pantomimic corkscrew AARGH toward the same goddamn chickenshit thing I would do too.
“Little dead Colette/baby, you’re much too sad.”
And with that, I ruin both our author and the perfection of Prince with a single slash of my penknife.
They both did the splits on us, each to their own interior rhythms destined to stop at the exact nano-beat of heartbreak. Just a choked hi-hat ZIP—and gone. -
Colette'ten Dişi Kedi ve Cicim'i okumuştum ama Colette hakkında karar vermem için bu kitabı okumam gerekiyormuş. 1 haftadır Jean Rhys'in kırılgan, dibe sürüklenen ve alkolik kadın karakterlerini okurken uzun zamandır kitaplıkta bekleyen Avare Kadın'a başladım ve ilerleyen sayfalarda içimden aynı hisler geçti. Acaba aynı öyküyü mü dinleyeceğim? Aşka tutulan işini kaybeden meyhane diplerinde hayatı sonlanan yalnız biri hakkında onlarca sayfa. Öyle değilmiş.
1900'lerin başları. 33 yaşında, Fossette adında köpeğiyle yaşayan, Paris'te bir gece kulübünde sahne alan Renée Nere'nin hikayesini ilk ağızdan dinliyoruz. Özellikle kitabın ilk yarısı bu şekilde, Cabaret filmindeki kulübün arka sahnesi gibi ve okuması çok zevkli. Bir gün Renée iş peşinde koşup kirasını ödemeye, hayatını idame etmeye çalışırken karşısına Maxime adında bir mirasyedi çıkar. Karşısına çıkar derken Maxime, Renée'nin dikkatini çekmek için çılgınca çabalar. Renee aşık mıdır, tüm ipleri salıp aşık olmalı mıdır? Aşka gerçekten ihtiyacı var mıdır? Renée'nin çevresindeki hikayeleri, görüşlerini dinlerken tüm bir kitap boyunca bu ikilemi yaşıyoruz.
Paris'in Altın Çağları'ndan, 1. Dünya Savaşı'ndan önce, Proust'un cilt cilt anılarından, Virginia Woolf'un bilinç akışlarından önce Colette Renée'nin hikayesini zamanın ruhunu fazla ayrıntıya entelektüel iç sese boğamadan dünyaya fırlatmış. Bu kitaba dair duyduğum hayranlıklardan biri bu basım yılı 1910.
Renée'nin Maxime için son sayfalarda yazdıklarını uzun zaman unutamam. Alnının teriyle ayakta kalmaya çalışan Renée, zenginliğinin kaynağının nereden geldiği belli olmayan, işsiz Maxime için şöyle bir cümle yazıyor, vurucu paragraflardan sadece biri:
''Sen iyi yüreklisin, en temiz niyetlerle beni mutlu etmek istiyordun, çünkü beni her şeyden yoksun, yapayalnız görmüştün. Ama yoksul bir kadının gururunu hesaba katmadın. Yeryüzünün en güzel ülkelerini, senin sevdalı bakışlarında küçülmüş olarak görmeyi reddediyorum''
Kendi kendine yeterlilik. Birinin sevgisine, merhametine ihtiyaç duymadan varolacağına dair inanış.
Avare Kadın, umarım daha fazla okunur ve Can Yayınları sahaflara hapsolmuş bu klasiği daha iyi bir çeviri ve sunumla basıma sunar. -
i read the original English translation, by Charlotte Remfry Kidd, which may have made a difference. I could not help seeing the main character, Renee, as a woman damaged by her first marriage, damaged so deeply that she could not trust in love again. For me, it is as if she was choosing between her fears of being alone and her fears of being with some one else, which is not exactly the "love vs. freedom" choice that other readers have called it. Her actions ultimately wound her faithful lover in turn -- won't this replicate the cycle, amputating his own ability to love and trust another woman later? I don't agree that "Only happiness can give life its value." I'd say love gives life deeper meaning than happiness does. (What is the word she uses in French? Joie? Bonheur?) It is also interesting to know that Colette made a different decision in life than she had her character decide. Does Colette's experience make regret the engine for this plot? All these thoughts temper my reaction to the novel. I wanted to adore it as a feminist classic, and it's certainly ahead of its time in sensibility, with a rich, rapturous voice. But Renee's selfishness and cynicism keeps me wary. I'd like to read the Cheri novels (ideally read them in French) and see if I feel the same way about them or not -- i.e., is it Renee or Colette that put me off?
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I was expecting this to be a bit like Age of Innocence, and I guess it is, thematically. But it's also feels a bit like Virginia Woolf. That's a problem because I've never been a big fan of her writing.
In addition to a stream-of-consciousness style, it's also written rather colloquially with lots and lots of sentence fragments and at least half a dozen ellipses per page.
Three's something off-putting about the prose. All the ellipses and sentence fragments don't quite scan in English - the sentence fragments don't flow naturally in English, nor do the pauses implied by the ellipses seem to fall in a logical spot. I wonder if this is a translation issue? Perhaps these fragments and pauses that look so awkward on the page here would sound a lot smoother if read aloud in the original French.
As a side note, I don't really care for either stream-of-consciousness nor colloquial writing, so I think this was doomed from the start - no matter how smooth the translation would have been. -
I loved it again ,read it long ago i am rereading my old favorites now- the Irish writers the English and the French.Colette has been a favorite since i was a young teen-so there is some comfort reading her works ,this one is about a character(herself) traveling with vaudeville troupe in France to all the provinces,her descriptions of her fellow dancers ,singers and actors is so great and the coarse behavior of the audiences as well. She was fearless and reckless for a woman of that time but took care of herself as she went of course with time for love affairs .I especially love her long train rides through France what she saw ,the countryside in bloom,and her fellow passengers -beautiful writing.
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30 years ago, in my twenties, I read this and felt I had a serious kindred spirit. Since then I have learned French if just to read it again in it's original language.
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To write is to pour one's innermost self passionately upon the tempting paper, at such frantic speed that sometimes one's hand struggles and rebels, overdriven by the impatient god who guides it — and to find, next day, in place of the golden bough that bloomed miraculously in that dazzling hour, a withered bramble and a stunted flower.
To write is the joy and torment of the idle. Oh to write! From time to time I feel a need, sharp as thirst in summer, to note and to describe. And then I take up my pen again and attempt the perilous and elusive task of seizing and pinning down, under its flexible double-pointed jib, the many-hued, fugitive, thrilling adjective.… The attack does not last long; it is but the itching of an old scar.
This was so nicely put, but unfortunately, I didn't really have a good time reading this book.
2.5 -
“Not possessing what you desire: that’s the limit of your hell, which some people endure for as long as they live…but to possess what you love and to feel your sole treasure crumbling, melting, and vanishing like a golden power slipping through your fingers!…And not to have the awful courage to open up your hand and let the whole treasure go, but instead to clench your fingers together more tightly all the time, to cry out, to implore, so that you can hold onto…what? A little precious trade of gold in the hollow of your palm….
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Largely autobiographical, Colette’s novel, The Vagabond, speaks to early stage feminism and women’s struggle to thrive in the early 20th century patriarchy. The Vagabond follows Rénée, a 33 year old woman who recently divorced her abusive, cheating husband. For the first time in years, she is gloriously alone, independent, and free. She is a passionate performer, lives alone, travels frequently, and supports herself financially. When an admirer, Maxime, enters her life, she is hesitant and turned off by him despite his wealth and appeal. His unrelenting advances are annoying, frustrating, and yet slowly she falls into his grasp, coming very close to being in love with him but fails to let herself completely fall. Something holds her back from loving again, and while starting a new tour with her performing group, she is determined to come to a conclusive decision, to be with Maxime, become a wife again, settle for a love that’s almost enough but not quite; or return to her independence, her career, her passions. Colette is unbelievably generous with her words, so poetic and melodic, constantly gifting me sentences to linger on because they’re so beautiful.
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I just finished this book and I could cry from sadness and anger. I hate that Colette ended it like that. WHY??? My heart aches for both characters.
This 1910 novel was written from the author's own experiences, which one can read in a short biography at the start. This information allowed me to understand the protagonist's feelings on love and the choices she made. On a personal level, I can identify with Renee on the fear of love and of losing one's own freedom and self to it. I would give this FOUR stars but Colette's writing is SO GOOD that I just can't bring myself to give her that rating. I was just in awe of her writing, constantly highlighting and often rereading lines. I can't wait to read more from this French lady. -
« Mon chéri, un jour vous comprendrez tout ceci. Vous comprendrez que je ne devais pas être à vous, ni et qu'en dépit d'un premier mariage et d'un second amour, je suis demeurée une espèce de vieille fille... vieille fille à la ressemblance de certaines, si amoureuses de l'Amour qu'aucun amour ne leur paraît assez beau, et qu'elles se refusent sans daigner s'expliquer; qui repoussent toute mésalliance sentimentale et retournent s'asseoir pour la vie devant une fenêtre, penchées sur leur aiguille, tête à tête avec leur chimère incomparable »
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J’ai ADORÉ ce roman. Déjà c’est une prouesse d’écriture légèrement mélancolique mais pleine aussi d’énergie : on est dans la tête de Renée, elle se confie sans filtre, et c’est si bien écrit que c’est ps ennuyeux. Ensuite, c’est d’une actualité folle. On devrait le faire lire à toutes les jeunes filles pour réécrire le mythe du prince charmant dans leur têtes et les faire réfléchir à ce qu’elles voudraient vraiment - ou pas - d’une relation. Un antidote au mariage - par une autrice qui s’est mariée trois fois !
