Last year, when Patrick Modiano won the Nobel Prize in literature, I had never heard of him. It’s not surprising. None of my friends, many of whom who are far more well-read than I, had heard of him either. As it turns out, not many of his works had been translated into English. But being a Francophile, I like to be up on the happenings in France. So, I looked up Modiano online, read his Wikipedia entry, NYT and Le Monde articles, watched a couple of interviews with the man, and ordered a book from Gallimard, containing no less than 10 of Modiano’s works (his stories are fairly short).
The first thing I wanted to read was Modiano’s autobiography, Un Pedigree. The interviews that I’d seen on Youtube were puzzling. Here was a Nobel-prize winner in literature that seemed hard pressed to finish a sentence, let alone follow a linear train of thought. I wondered if, on paper, his prose would be laden with a rich vocabulary and profound complexity—perhaps demonstrating a level of communication that is difficult for any speaker to reproduce. What I found in Un Pedigree, however, again surprised me. It wasn’t at all what I’d call well-written. The sentences were complete but the book was like a core dump of someone’s stream of consciousness as he attempts to piece together his past.
In reading Un Pedigree, I felt as if I were reading notes that one might take before sitting down to write a book. I only read 30-40 pages before deciding I was getting very little from it and put it aside. Here is my translation of a passage in which Modiano describes his father’s life during the German occupation of Paris:
The people I’ve identified that he hung out with at the time are Henri Lagroua, Sacha Gordine, Freddie McEvoy, an Australian bobsled champion and race car driver with whom he would share, immediately after the war, an office on the Champs-Elysées the business name of which I wasn’t able to discover; a certain Jean Koporindé (189 Rue de la Pompe), Geza Pellmont, Toddie Werner (who went by “Mme Sahuque”) and her friend Hessien (Liselotte), Kissa Kouprine, a Russian, daughter of the writer Kouprine. She had appeared in a few films and played in a Roger Vitrac play, Les Demoiselles du large. Flory Francken, known as Nardus, who my father called “Flo” was the daughter of a Dutch painter and had spent her childhood and adolescence in Tunisia. Then she had come to Paris and frequented Montparnasse. In 1938, she had been implicated in a minor news item that was worth her appearing before a criminal court and, in 1940, she had married the Japanese actor Sessue Hayakawa. During the Occupation, she was linked to the woman who had been the heroine of L’Atlante, Dita Parlo, and her lover, Doctor Fuchs, one of the directors of the “Otto” service, the most important purchasing office on the black market, 6 Rue Adolphe-Yvon (XVIe).
Such was more or less the world in which my father circulated. Underworld? Mob? Before she is lost in the cold night of oblivion, I’ll cite another Russian who was his friend at that time, Galina, known as “Gay” Orloff. She had, at a young age, emigrated to the United States…
And so the book goes, presenting somewhat random pieces of information that are often forgotten immediately, or are momentarily compelling before disappearing from the reader’s memory, lost amidst subsequent ramblings. Ever busy with classes, my family, and other projects, I decided I didn’t have time to stick it out until the end in the hopes of gleaning a deeper understanding of Modiano’s life—that is, beyond what I had already gleaned after reading a few online articles.
Happily, a French literature class recently compelled me to return to Modiano’s work. The professor chose most of the books for the class but I was allowed to select one and I chose Modiano’s Dora Bruder. I didn’t know anything about this book beforehand. I’d only read that it was one of Modiano’s must-reads, and it was included in the 10-work volume I’d already purchased from Gallimard. I hope to say more about this book in a subsequent post but for now, let me just end by saying that I found Dora Bruder to be worthy of masterpiece prominence. It’s quite unlike anything I’ve read before and Modiano’s scattered manner of mixing facts with emotions, sequencing disparate events, jumping about in both time and space, and comparing people that have little observable connection with each other, works beautifully in this non-fictional account of a young French, Jewish woman who disappeared along with countless others in the midst of World War II.
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Starting by his autobiography was tough.
For once, this was a Nobel I knew and loved! I fell in love with Rue des boutiques obscures in my teens , when it won le Goncourt. Since, I have read several others by him, and I recently have re-read Rue des boutiques obscures with one of my French students.
Great style, though all his books are like variations on the same theme.
What’s shocking though for me is that he has such a hard time talking when interviewed, hardly finishes any sentence. And in his old age just as when he received le Goncourt – there are interviews on youtube going back to that time.
He has just published his 30th novel, Chevreuse
I agree about Modiano’s shocking inability to finish a sentence. This post is the first one I ever wrote. I’ve been meaning to update it for a long time.
I wrote a longer paper on Modiano when I was getting my masters but it’s in French. I’ve read a few more of his books since. I agree that his style is unwavering. One thing I love is his uncanny ability to weave remembrances into his stories. He also describes place like no other. I always feel like I’m there on the street with the central character. These characteristics are even present in his children’s book, Catherine Certitude, which I loved!
I love Modiano’s books, though he has run out of gas over the last few years (not surprising, given his age.) Dora Bruder is very good and I especially loved Rue des Boutiques Obscures and Dans le café de la jeunesse perdu. Surprisingly, though I have a number of quite literary French friends, I have yet to find one who appreciates Modiano!
You’ve managed to come across my first ever blog post Keith. If memory serves, I reworked this piece for a literature class paper but I neglected to update the post. Since then, I’ve re-read Un Pedigree and Dora Bruder and added two other books by Modiano: Le Petite Bijou, and Catherine Certitude. The latter is a delightful chapter book for budding readers, illustrated by J.J. Sempé.
I think Modiano is a wonderful writer, but the reader has to free themselves from expecting a chronological presentation. Modiano is like an impressionist painter, if you look super closely, the picture might not make sense but if you back away, taken as a whole, you’re looking at a masterpiece.
Have you ever watched an interview with him? I recall pulling one up on YouTube shortly after he won the prize. Oh my! His speech patterns are even more rambling that his writing. If you knew nothing about him, and you only saw him speak, you’d never guess he was considered a genius at stringing words together.
I came across Modiano by chance, less than a year ago – my French wife is an admirer, and as it happened a Modiano was top of a pile of books she was rearranging one day – it was Voyage de Noces. I had no idea he’d won the Nobel, but at that moment was beginning to read more in French, to keep my hand in. So, I read the note on the back cover and decided to give it a go. I was immediately fascinated, and have since read five more – four novellas – the three published together in Remise de Peine, La Danseuse and Un Pedigree.
What fascinates me is Modiano’s mastery of atmosphere – and his ability to create mystery. Indeed, I think of him as a sort-of Simenon in that they both superbly capture the atmosphere of a certain place at a specific time, both create mysteries – but with the significant difference that whereas Maigret solves the crime, in Modiano the mysteries remain when you have finished. His memoir, Un Pedigree, is similarly slippery – although I was able to verify many ‘facts’, Modiano had changed the names of some locations and people and messed with the timeline. I derived a lot of fun from attempting to pin down the ‘truth’ from the ‘fictions’, whilst at the same time fully understanding that Modiano was deliberately messing with the reader. I love the way in which many questions are left unanswered at the end of his tales – I guess this must drive some other readers nuts!
You may be interested to know that Voyage de Noces was in a sense written ‘about’ Dora Bruder, when Modiano had become aware of part of her story… he fills in the gaps with his speculations. It’s brilliant. I’m afraid, now, to read the more factual ‘Dora Bruder’ in case it is disappointing by comparison.
Thanks for your comment. It gives me a lot of food for thought. This piece on Modiano was the very first piece I wrote for my blog. I’ve wanted to revisit it, and now, rereading it, I’m somewhat surprised by what I wrote. It no longer reflects my opinion of Modiano or Un Pedigree. Part of the problem may be that my French wasn’t as strong when I first tried reading Modiano. I subsequently read Un Pedigree and loved it. I totally forgot that I’d struggled with it to begin with. I’ve reread Dora Bruder as well, and I agree that Modiano’s way of capturing time and place is unparalleled. I’ve become a big fan.
In 2019, I listened to an audio version of Le Petit Bijou and didn’t appreciate the narrator. Sometimes, an unlikeable (in this case whiny) narrator can ruin a book so I withhold expressing any opinion about the writing. I didn’t enjoy listening to it, but clearly recognized Modiano’s skillful juxtaposition of time and place.
I also read and adored a book that Modiano wrote for a youthful audience, again probably based on his own life. It’s called Catherine Certitude, and is illustrated by J-J Sempé. It’s a delightful story, and I’ve recommended it on my blog for younger people who are starting to read French and need simpler texts, but it’s suitable for anyone. In general, I find Modiano’s prose to be pretty straightforward. Far easier to digest than many of the notable French authors from the 19th century.
I’m so glad to know about Voyage de Noces. I’m adding it to my overflowing want-to-read list. Thanks for mentioning it.
Last month I read my first book by another French Nobel Prize winner, Bitna, sous le ciel de Séoul, by J.M.G. Le Clézio. It was very different from Modiano’s writing but, again, easy to digest. I found Le Clézio to be more of a storyteller. I’m sure some of this book is informed by his own experiences, but the story has a magical quality and many fictional elements that I suspect he imagined.
Thanks again for stopping by and sharing your opinion.