Suite Française
4 If I want to create something striking, it is not misery I will show but the prosperity that contrasts with it.
5 When Hubert escapes from the prison where the poor wretches have been taken, instead of describing the death of the hostages, it’s the party at the Opera House I must show, and then simply people sticking posters up on the walls: so and so was shot at dawn. The same after the war and without dwelling on Corbin. Yes! It must be done by showing contrasts: one word for misery, ten for egotism, cowardice, closing ranks, crime. Won’t it be wonderful! But it’s true that it’s this very atmosphere I’m breathing. It is easy to imagine it: the obsession with food.
6 Think also about the Mass on Rue de la Source, early morning while it’s still completely dark. Contrasts! Yes, there’s something to that, something that can be very powerful and very new. Why have I used it so little in Dolce? Yet, rather than dwelling on Madeleine—for example, perhaps the whole Madeleine–Lucile chapter can be left out, reduced to a few lines of explanation, which can go into the Mme Angellier–Lucile chapter. On the other hand, describe in minute detail the preparations for the German celebration. It is perhaps an impression of ironic contrast, to receive the force of the contrast. The reader has only to see and hear.*4
Characters in order of appearance (as far as I can remember):
The Péricands—the Cortes—the Michauds—the landowners—Lucile—the louts?—the farmers etc.—the Germans—the aristocrats.
Good, need to include in the beginning: Hubert, Corte, Jules Blanc, but that would destroy my unified tone for Dolce. Definitely I think I have to leave Dolce as is and on the other hand reintroduce all the characters from Storm, but in such a way that they have a momentous affect on Lucile, Jean-Marie and the others (and France).
I think that (for practical reasons) Dolce should be short. In fact, in comparison with the eighty pages of Storm, Dolce will probably have about sixty or so, no more. Captivity, on the other hand, should make a hundred. Let’s say then:
STORM 80 pages
DOLCE 60 ″
CAPTIVITY 100 ″
The two others 50 ″
390,*5 let’s say 400 pages, multiplied by four. Lord! That makes 1,600 typed pages! Well, well, if I live in it!*6 In the end, if the people who have promised to come arrive on 14 July, then that will have certain consequences, including at least one, maybe two sections less.
In fact, it’s like music when you sometimes hear the whole orchestra, sometimes just the violin. At least it should be like that. Combine [two words in Russian] and individual emotions. What interests me here is the history of the world.
Beware: forget the reworking of characters. Obviously, the time-span is short. The first three parts, in any case, will only cover a period of three years. As for the last two, well that’s God’s secret and what I wouldn’t give to know it. But because of the intensity, the gravity of the experiences, the people to whom things happen must change (. . .)
My idea is for it to unravel like a film, but at times the temptation is great, and I’ve given in with brief descriptions or in the episode that follows the meeting at the school by giving my own point of view. Should I mercilessly pursue this?
Think about as well: the famous “impersonality” of Flaubert and his kind lies only in the greater fact with which they express their feelings—dramatising them, embodying them in living form, instead of stating them directly?
Such*7 . . . there are other times when no one must know what Lucile feels in her heart, rather show her through other people’s eyes.
1942
The French grew tired of the Republic as if she were an old wife. For them, the dictatorship was a brief affair, adultery. But they intended to cheat on their wife, not to kill her. Now they realise she’s dead, their Republic, their freedom. They’re mourning her.
For years, everything done in France within a certain social class has had only one motive: fear. This social class caused the war, the defeat and the current peace. The Frenchmen of this caste hate no one; they feel neither jealousy nor disappointed ambition, nor any real desire for revenge. They’re scared. Who will harm them the least (not in the future, not in the abstract, but right now and in the form of kicks in the arse or slaps in the face)? The Germans? The English? The Russians? The Germans won but the beating has been forgotten and the Germans can protect them. That’s why they’re “for the Germans.” At school, the weakest student would rather be bullied than be free; the tyrant bullies him but won’t allow anyone else to steal his marbles, beat him up. If he runs away from the bully, he is alone, abandoned in the free-for-all.
There is a huge gulf between this caste, which is the caste of our current leaders, and the rest of the nation. The rest of the French, because they own less, are less afraid. If cowardice stops stifling the positive feelings in our souls (patriotism, love of freedom etc.), then they can rise up. Of course, many people have recently built fortunes, but they are fortunes in depreciated currency that are impossible to transform into concrete goods, land, jewellery, gold etc. Our butcher, who won five hundred thousand francs in a currency whose exchange rate abroad he knows (exactly zero), cares less about money than a Péricand, a Corbin*8 cares about their property, their banks etc. More and more, the world is becoming divided into the haves and the have nots. The first don’t want to give anything up and the second want to take everything. Who will win out?
The most hated men in France in 1942: Philippe Henriot*9 and Pierre Laval. The first as the Tiger, the second as the Hyena: around Henriot you can smell fresh blood, and around Laval the stench of rotting flesh.
Mers-el-Kébir painful stupor
Syria indifference
Madagascar even greater indifference
All in all, it’s only the initial shock that counts. People get used to everything, everything that happens in the occupied zone: massacres, persecution, organised pillaging, are like arrows shot into mire! . . . the mire of our hearts.
They’re trying to make us believe we live in the age of the “community,” when the individual must perish so that society may live, and we don’t want to see that it is society that is dying so the tyrants can live.
This age that believes itself to be the age of the “community” is more individualistic than the Renaissance or the era of the great feudal lords. Everything is happening as if there were a fixed amount of freedom and power in the world that is sometimes divided between millions of people and sometimes between one single person and the other millions. “Have my leftovers,” the dictators say. So please don’t talk to me about the spirit of the community. I’m prepared to die but as a French citizen and I insist there be a valid reason for my death, and I, Jean-Marie Michaud,*10 I am dying for P. Henriot and P. Laval and other lords, just as a chicken has its throat slit to be served to these traitors for dinner. And I maintain, yes, I do, that the chicken is worth more than the people who will eat it. I know that I am more intelligent, superior, more valuable where goodness is concerned than those men. They are strong but their strength is temporary and an illusion. It will be drained from them by time, defeat, the hand of fate, illness (as was the case with Napoleon). And everyone will be dumbfounded. “But how?” people will say. “They were the ones we were afraid of!” I will truly have a communal spirit if I defend my share and everyone else’s share against their greed. The individual only has worth if he is sensitive to others, that goes without saying. But just so long as it is “all other men” and not “one man.” Dictatorship is built around this confusion. Napoleon said he only desired the greatness of France, but he proclaimed to Metternich,*11 “I don’t give a damn if millions of men live or die.”
Hitler:
FOR STORM IN JUNE:
What I need to have:
1 An extremely detailed map of France or Michelin Guide
2 The complete collection of several French and foreign newspapers between 1 June and 1 July
3 A work on porcelain
4 June birds, their
names and songs
5 A mystical book (belonging to the godfather) Father Bréchard
Comments on what’s already been written:
1 Will—He talks for too long.
2 Death of the priest—schmaltzy.
3 Nimes? Why not Toulouse which I know?
4 In general, not enough simplicity!
[In Russian, Irène Némirovsky added: “in general, they are often characters who have too high a social standing.”]
April 1942. Need to have Storm, Dolce, Captivity follow on from one another. Replace the Desjours farm by the Mounain farm. I want to place it in Montferroux. Dual advantage: links Storm to Dolce and cuts out what is unpleasant in the Desjours household. I must create something great and stop wondering if there’s any point.
Have no illusions: this is not for now. So mustn’t hold back, must strike with a vengeance wherever I want.
For Captivity: the changing attitudes of Corte: national revolution, necessity of having a leader. Sacrifice (everyone agrees about the necessity of sacrifice just as long as it’s your neighbour’s), then the lapidary phrase*12 which makes him famous, for in the beginning Corte is rather frowned upon: he takes an attitude that is too French but he realises through subtle and menacing signs that this is not what he should do. Yes, he is patriotic but only afterwards: today the Rhine is flowing over the Ural mountains, he has a moment of hesitation but, after all, that is understandable given all the geographical fantasies which have become realities these past few years—the English border is at the Rhine and to top it all off the Maginot Line*13 and the Siegfried Line*14 are both in Russia, Horace’s final creation (down him*15).
On L.:*16 It must be him because he is a crook. And in the times we are living in, a crook is worth more than an honest man.
Captivity—keep it simple. Tell what happens to people and that’s all.
Today, 24 April, a little calm for the first time in a very long time, convince yourself that the sequences in Storm, if I may say so, must be, are a masterpiece. Work on it tirelessly.
Corte is one of those writers whose usefulness will become glaringly obvious in the years following the defeat; he has no equal when it comes to finding euphemisms to guard against disagreeable realities. E.g.: the French army was not beaten back, it withdrew! If people kiss the Germans’ boots it is because they have a sense of reality. Having a communal spirit means hoarding food supplies for the exclusive use of the few.
I think I should replace the strawberries with forget-me-nots. It seems impossible to bring cherry trees in blossom and ripe strawberries together in the same season.
Find a way to link Lucile to Storm. When the Michauds stop to rest one night during their journey, this oasis and the breakfast and everything that must seem so wonderful—the porcelain cups, the dewy roses in thick bouquets on the table (roses with black centres), the coffee pot giving off bluish steam etc.
Send up the so-called writers. E.g. A. C., the A. R. who wrote an article “Is the Tristesse d’Olympio*17 a masterpiece?” No one has ever sent up certain so-called writers like A. B. etc. (there is honour among thieves).
To sum up, chapters already finished by 13 May 1942:
(1) Arrival (2) Madeleine (3) Madeleine and her husband (4) vespers (5) the house (6) the Germans in the village (7) the private school (8) the garden and the Viscountess’s visit (9) the kitchen (10) departure of Mme Angellier. First look at the Perrins’ garden (11) the day it rains.
TO DO:
(12) the German ill (13) the Maie woods (14) the Perrin ladies (15) the Perrins’ garden (16) Madeleine’s family (17) the Viscountess and Benoît (18) the denunciation? (19) the night (20) the catastrophe at Benoît’s place (21) Madeleine at Lucile’s house (22) the celebration at the lake (23) the de[parture].
Still to do: 12, half of 13, 16, 17, and the rest.
Madeleine at Lucile’s house—Lucile in Mme Angellier’s room—Lucile and the German—celebration at the lake—the departure.
FOR CAPTIVITY FOR THE CONCENTRATION CAMP THE BLASPHEMY OF THE BAPTISED JEWS “MAY GOD FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES AS WE FORGIVE YOU YOURS”—Obviously, martyrs would not have said that.
To do it well, need to make 5 parts:
1 Storm
2 Dolce
3 Captivity
4 Battles?
5 Peace?
General title: Storm or Storms and the first part could be called Shipwreck.
In spite of everything, the thing that links all these people together is our times, solely our times. Is that really enough? I mean: is this link sufficiently felt?
Therefore Benoît, after having killed (or trying to kill) Bonnet (for I still have to decide if it might not be better to let him live for the future), Benoît escapes; he first hides in the Maie woods, then, since Madeleine is afraid of being followed when she goes to bring him food, at Lucile’s house. Finally, in Paris, at the Michauds’ where Lucile sends him. Pursued, he escapes in time, but the Gestapo search the Michauds’ house, find notes made by Jean-Marie for a future book, think they are political tracts and arrest him. He meets Hubert there [in prison] who had got himself arrested for some stupidity or other. Hubert would have no trouble getting out, because his powerful family who are total collaborators can pull strings, but out of childishness, his taste for adventure stories etc., he prefers risking his life by escaping with Jean-Marie. Benoît and his friends help them. Later, much later, because in the meantime Jean-Marie and Lucile have to fall in love, they escape and flee France. That should end Captivity and as I’ve already said:
—Benoît Communist
—Jean-Marie Middle class
Jean-Marie dies heroically. But how? And what is heroism these days? Parallel to this death, must show the death of the German in Russia, the two full of sorrowful nobility.
Adagio: Must rediscover all these musical terms (presto, prestissimo, adagio, andante, con amore, etc.)
Music: Adagio from Op. 106, that immense poem of solitude—the twentieth variation on the theme of Diabelli, the sphinx with the dark eyebrows who contemplates the abyss—the Benedictus of the Missa Solemnis and the final scenes of Parsifal.
He [Hubert] gets out: those who truly love each other are Lucile and Jean-Marie. What should I do with Hubert? Vague plan: Benoît escapes after killing Bonnet. He’s hidden at Lucile’s. After the Germans leave, Lucile is afraid to have him stay in the village and suddenly thinks of the Michauds.
On the other hand, I want J. Marie and Hubert to be thrown in jail by the Germans for different reasons. That way it would be possible to have the German die afterwards. Lucile could think of going to him to save J. Marie? All this is very vague. Think about it.
On the one hand, I would like a kind of general idea. On the other . . . Tolstoy, for example, with one idea spoils everything. Must have people, human reactions, and that’s all . . .
Let’s make do with important businessmen and famous writers. After all, they are the real kings.
For Dolce, a woman of honour can admit without shame “these unexpected emotions that reason can tame,” as Pauline would say (Corneille).
2 June 1942. Never forget that the war will be over and that the entire historical side will fade away. Try to create as much as possible: things, debates . . . that will interest people in 1952 or 2052. Reread Tolstoy. Inimitable descriptions but not historical. Insist on that. For example in Dolce, the Germans in the village. In Captivity, Jacqueline’s First Communion and Arlette Corail’s party.
2 June 1942. Starting to worry about the shape this novel will have when finished! Consider that I haven’t yet finished the second part, and I see the third? But that the fourth and fifth are in limbo and what limbo! It’s really in the lap of the gods since it depends on what happens. And the gods could find it amusing to wait a hundred or even a thousand years, as the saying goes*18: and I’ll be far away. But the gods wouldn’t do that to me. I’m also counting a lot on the prophecy of Nostradamus.
1944—Oh, God!
*19
While waiting to see the shape . . . or rather I should say the rhythm: the rhythm in the cinematic sense . . . how the parts relate to each other. Storm, Dolce, gentleness and tragedy. Captivity? Something muffled, stifled, as vicious as possible. After that I don’t know.
What’s important—the relationship between different parts of the work. If I had a better knowledge of music, I suppose that would help me. Since I don’t know music, then what is called rhythm in films. All in all, make sure to have variety on one hand and harmony on the other. In the cinema, a film must have unity, tone, a style. E.g.: those street scenes in American films where you always have skyscrapers, where you can sense the hot, muffled, muggy atmosphere of New York. So unity for the film as a whole but variety between the parts. Pursuit—people in love—laughter, tears etc. It’s this type of rhythm I want to achieve.
Now for a more basic question and one to which I cannot find an answer: won’t people forget the heroes from one book to the next? It is to avoid this problem that I would like to create one large volume of 1,000 pages rather than a work made up of several volumes.
3 July 1942. Definitely,*20 unless things drag on and get worse as they go! But please let it be over one way or the other!
Only need four movements. In the third, Captivity, collective destiny and personal destiny are strongly linked. In the fourth, whatever the result may be! (I UNDERSTAND WHAT I MEAN!), personal destiny is extricated from the other. On one side, the fate of the nation, on the other, Jean-Marie and Lucile, their love, the German’s music etc.
Now, here is what I pictured:
1 Benoît is killed in a revolution or fight or an attempt at resisting, according to what seems realistic.
2 Corte. I think this might be good. Corte was very afraid of the Bolsheviks. He is extremely collaborationist but, following an attack on one of his friends or out of wounded pride, he gets the idea that the Germans are finished. He wants to commit himself to the extreme left! He first thinks of Jules Blanc, but after seeing him, he finds him [illegible word in Russian], he turns resolutely to a young activist group, that has formed . . . [unfinished sentence].