French Fiction

Exteriors by Annie Ernaux

My review

rating: 3 of 5 stars
Lately, I have been fascinated with America's preoccupation with "Truth". In my opinion, this spate of successful memoirs that turn out to be fakes and "betray" the American public says something (although I am not entirely sure what yet) about how we value stories as a culture. Apparently, other countries are less concerned veracity and Annie Ernaux's popularity is evidence of this. Her books often blur what is real. In the case of Exteriors, the entire book is a series of observations of ordinary life which could be completely fabricated from Ernaux's imagination or actual scenes she has personally observed. The reader has no absolute way of knowing. My guess is it's a mix of both. Ernaux explains at the beginning of the book that she decided to write this book when her mother was diagnosed with Alzheimers. She explained that her mother's world was quickly becoming populated with strangers and she believed that to better understand her mother's experience she needed to explore the strangers in her own world. This is a beautiful reason to write a book and it is no less powerful to me if some of the observations are less than "true."


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