Adonis Diaries

“La consolante” is the latest of Anna Gavalda.  Usually, when two teams or two individuals play to win then, for the same level in talent, the one with a character to win usually win.  That is why, it is a good behavior to have a rematch with “no winning” conditions (La consolante), just having fun, be relaxed, and enjoying the game.

The novel is supposed to have a story but so far, it is evident that I might have to read 635 pages if I feel any urge to know the story.  Modern novels have complex beginnings and convoluted organization:  modern publishers think that modern readers have the patience to follow a story when the internet is bombarding us with thousands of stories per hour.  In my case, I don’t care for the main story:  it is the hundreds of backup mini stories that interest me.  In Gavalda’s case, every conversation is a story; it is kind of hundred lovely mini stories of everything and about everybody (not famous and not glamorous) camouflaged in a novel.  Actually, my autobiography is dedicated to those not famous and not glamorous.

I don’t know if Gavalda read my blog; I know that many read my book review of her book “Together is all that I want” and a piece called “I love that kid”.  Anyway, I have this impression that Anna is emulating my style but in French.  It does not matter if my statement is incorrect:  Fact is, her style suits me grandly.  I don’t care about the main story:  It should take no more than 10 pages to tell “War and peace” or “Gone with the wind”.  It is the “collateral” stories that make the news.

The back cover might be helpful for the catching your attention on the story: “Charles Balanda, 47 years old, architect living in Paris. He incidentally learns of the passing away of a lady he knew when kid.  That woman incarnated a totally different universe of what he experienced within his “small scale bourgois” family.  The universe represented by this lady was craziness, passions, pains, sufferings, and being alive.  Hearing this piece of news, the life of Balanda flips to anguish and sadness:  He lost it in his family, work, and in his convictions… Until (surprise!) he meets Kate and his vision of the world is changed again…”

I might write a series of Gavalda’s conversations in this book.  For example:  “The little girl (of maybe 8) was curled up in the backseat of my car.  I could not recall the name of her pony that she mounted during competition and tried to guess out loud. Then, she said: “There are times, I wished you were my daddy.”  I refrained from replying:  Any answer was going to spoil everything.  What could I have replied?  That I am better than her father?  That I am not her father and that she’s better not to dwell on those thoughts?  I think my silence was saying it better than all the answers that I could have babbled.”

Note:  I finished the novel and might write something about the stories.  Anna Gavalda published “I want someone to wait for me somewhere”; “I loved him”, and “She barely escaped it”