After fifty-five years I’m sure that Duras’s memories have been filtered through many lenses. She wrote this novel at the age of seventy. The languid, weighted eyelids are a point of fascination. Our basis of comparison is too slender, too new, too wrapped in hormonal need to really know what we feel is love.
At fifteen, even when we think we are in love, we can’t know whether it is real. True love will be a field of flowers not a single stem already residing in the hand. We will have many exciting affairs of the heart. At fifteen I think most of us believe we will love many people. She was born in Saigon and did have a wealthy, much older, Chinese lover. This book is based on the real life of Marguerite Donnadieu better known as Marguerite Duras. ”She wasn’t sure that she hadn’t loved him with a love she hadn’t seen because it had lost itself in the affair like water in sand and she rediscovered it only now, through this moment of music flung across the sea.”
He is obsessed with her, with her nubile body, but knows his father will never let him keep her. His heroism is me, his cravenness is his father’s money.” He is hindered instead of strengthened by his father. ”He often weeps because he can’t find the strength to love beyond fear. He is slender, insubstantial, built like a boy. He is twenty-seven, but it is as if she were older. Tony Leung Ka Fai and Jane March star in the 1992 French Film. It’s via Hélène Logonelle’s body, through it, that the ultimate pleasure would pass from him to me. I want it to happen in my presence, I want her to do it as I wish, I want her to giver herself where I give myself. ”I’d like to give Hélène Lagonelle to the man who does that to me, so he may do it in turn to her. He is rich, or let me be more precise, his father is rich. ”Hélène Logonelle’s body is heavy, innocent still, her skin’s as soft as that of certain fruits, you almost can’t grasp her, she’s almost illusory, it’s too much….I am worn out with desire for Hélène Logonelle. A lovely friend totally uninhibited and unaware of how beautiful she is. Her mother insists that she study mathematics, but she wants to be a writer. She is lost in a world between adulthood and childhood, a dream world, and a world of harsh realities. Her other brother is nice, but no match for the rest of the family. Her older brother is a layabout, spoiled by her mother. She wants reassurance that her beauty is larger than one exquisite feature. She wants people to notice her eyes, her lips, certainly something other than her hair. She buys a man’s hat that is certainly eccentric for a young girl to wear in Saigon in 1929. People always comment on how beautiful her hair is which she interprets to mean that they don’t find her pretty. She has pretty hair, copper hair that spools down her back in waves of alluring movement. There are great spaces where you pretend there used to be someone, but it’s not true, there was no one.”
There are great spaces where you pretend there used to be someone, but it’s not true, there was no one.” The young Marguerite Duras She has pretty hair, copper hair that spools down her back in waves of alluring movement. ***AWARDED THE 1984 PRIX GONCOURT*** “The story of my life doesn’t exist.
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