Review: The Confidant

The Confidant

Author: Hélène Grémillon
Translator: Alison Anderson
Pages: 256
Publisher: Penguin Books
Source: Publisher for review

Description from Goodreads:
"A gripping first novel" (Le Figaro Littéraire) and an award-winning international sensation as haunting and unforgettable as Suite Française

Paris, 1975. Camille sifts through letters of condolence after her mother's death when a strange, handwritten missive stops her short. At first she believes she received it by mistake. But then, a new letter arrives each week from a mysterious stranger, Louis, who seems intent on recounting the story of his first love, Annie. They were separated in the years before World War II when Annie befriended a wealthy, barren couple and fell victim to a merciless plot just as German troops arrive in Paris. But also awaiting Camille's discovery is the other side of the story, which will call into question Annie's innocence and reveal the devastating consequences of jealousy and revenge. As Camille reads on, she begins to realize that her own life may be the next chapter in this tragic story.

First Sentence: "I got a letter one day, a long letter that wasn't signed."

Review:

When I get a review request in my email inbox for a historical fiction novel with an appealing cover, I just cannot say no. The Confidant, set in Paris, as you can tell from the cover with the ubiquitous Eiffel Tower background, also takes place partially during the WWII era. Basically, I was all kinds of sold. What I love about fiction set in that era is how much variety there is, how much ground to be covered, and, yet again, I found myself in a book very different from any I'd previously encountered. The Confidant is a strange, oddly powerful little book.

The novel opens on Camille, who, in her mid-thirties, has just become pregnant by her boyfriend and whose mother has just died. These facts matter only in how they affect her mental state at the time of receiving the letters. After bereavement, people send letters, sharing stories, offering condolences, etc. Camille receives a thicker, unsigned letter, and opens it, curious to discover what it contains. Inside, she finds a story, one that seems to have little to do with her. The letters keep coming, always unsigned and always conveying a bit more of the story. This narrative device ensnared my curiosity, much as it did Camille's. What happened to the people in these letters? Were they delivered to Camille by mistake? 

While the bulk of the novel does take place during WWII, I will say that the war serves solely as a backdrop or a sort of catalyst to the drama of the piece. In fact, this story could have happened in another time or another place. It's a story of a woman and a girl, one desperate to fulfill what she sees as her duty and the other trying to find herself.

The main theme of The Confidant centers around childbirth. Obviously, this isn't a topic of much interest to me ordinarily, but the treatment here really made me think. Madame M desperately wants children, but, despite years of trying, she and her husband have yet to conceive. Constantly bombarded by war propaganda urging the importance of procreation to the continued health of France, Madame M feels guilty and like a failure. Her desperation drives her to try every single rumored cure for infertility, and goodness gracious but it was horrifying. The things women have been asked to do throughout history boggle my mind and sadden me deeply.

The tale told within these pages surprised me in its sordidness and darkness. Honestly, I expected something much lighter. However, The Confidant turned out to be a tale of sex and betrayal. While I didn't connect with any of the characters on a personal level, I could not help being caught up in their drama and the desire to discover just how the past had become Camille's present and where everyone ended up.

Sadly, though, I think this novel could have been formatted much better, as it was rather confusing. There are no chapter headings or indications that you're switching from one narrative to another, besides, sometimes, a change in font. Camille's narrative is an awful sans serif font. Then, without warning, the novel switches to Louis' letter. This, at least, had the benefit of being in a different font, but there was no transition at all, so it was jarring. More troublesome was the switch to Annie's perspective, which had no distinguishable difference from Louis'. I read several pages before I finally figured out what was going on. Once I knew what to expect, I didn't have any problems, but this really could have been handled better.

Grémillon has a poetic sort of writing style, which, while not entirely unpleasant to me, simply was not a style that has particular appeal to me. The phrasing was occasionally quite strange, and reads perhaps more like free verse than prose perhaps, though it could also be a result of an awkward translation from French. Grémillon even ends the novel with a poem, which definitely went rather over my head. I've been trying to do better, but I still have difficulty appreciating poetry.

For those of a poetic persuasion with an interest in women's issues and history, Grémillon's debut is a must-read. Though it did not end up being precisely my kind of book, I can recommend it highly as a quality read for a slightly different style of reader.

Rating: 3/5

Favorite Quote: "Nicolas said that no beauty mark had ever been more deserving of its name, and he was very fond of it. He would have done better to be fond of me."