The second volume in Simone de Beauvoir's autobiography. In it she continues the story of her life from the age of 21, through the uneasy rebellious 30s, the war years and finally to the liberation of Paris in 1944.
Paperback
Published
1973
by Penguin Books Ltd
(first published January 1st 1940)
Sarah Griffey
Hello there... As good a place as any to start reading, really. Just concentrate and allow yourself the time to reflect on her journey. As it's an
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Hello there... As good a place as any to start reading, really. Just concentrate and allow yourself the time to reflect on her journey. As it's an autobio, the story does wander at times.
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If volume one of her memoirs made me fall completely in love with Simone de Beauvoir, then volume two is what always comes afterward, where those endearing quirks are seen for the faults they are, which doesn't make one love her any less, perhaps more even.
If you're looking for the dirt, this autobiography is hardly forthcoming, but she does offer some explanation of her emotions and motives, if you read between the lines, though she never mentions any juicy personal details, which might make y
If volume one of her memoirs made me fall completely in love with Simone de Beauvoir, then volume two is what always comes afterward, where those endearing quirks are seen for the faults they are, which doesn't make one love her any less, perhaps more even.
If you're looking for the dirt, this autobiography is hardly forthcoming, but she does offer some explanation of her emotions and motives, if you read between the lines, though she never mentions any juicy personal details, which might make you want to run out a grab a biography with ALL the gossip, but if the author has firmly got her hooks in you by now, you probably won’t because it would seem sleazy. Yeah, I’m talking about the preternatural relationship with young girls, etc. It seems even at this age she was already preoccupied with the 'irreparable loss of youth' and I think chasing that lost youth underlies her weirdness with the youngsters. But hey, no one is perfect!
And yes, she’s sort of narcissistic (but I sort of think maybe it’s a required trait to make any way in this world, see that’s why I’m a failure, I’m just not self-centered enough.) She spent her youth and much of her young life believing that the world could only be understood through her senses and her superior mind alone. That others experience the exact same thing was nothing less than a revelation to her. Yet, I think this point of view is so very human and she is far more honest than most people for admitting this. It’s even humorous when, after young street urchins in a Greek slum throw stones at them, she explains it away simply as they were throwing stones at "tourists" and of course the kids' anger was not really directed at ‘us’. She so easily excludes herself from the social group to which she firmly belongs, but she also recognizes this error and that’s what makes her writing so interesting. The reader may cringe at how she justifies everything relating to her relationship with Sartre. While her examination of sexual attitudes that were taken for granted is interesting, I must wonder at the self denial/dishonesty this takes. Her internal conflict of body vs. mind and upbringing vs. philosophy are obviously reoccurring theme.
This is one of those books you have to decide how much time you really want to devote to looking up references, to literature, philosophy, film, theater and politics, which this book absolutely overflows with. Of course there is the historical significance and the famous people she knew. I found young Sartre's prediction that 'talkies' would never really take off funny, as well as his strange interests, like graphology, yet these were all within the trends of their times, like the Yo-yo craze which Sartre practiced morning to night at one point. I laughed at his experiment with LSD, which possibly led to his reoccurring delusions about a giant lobster stalking him (I feel for you Sartre, the single instance I took an hallucinogenic I also had had horrible time of it, no lobster though.)
I love how travel was so important to her, no matter how broke she was she managed through sheer thrift to see a large portion of Western Europe. I love how she would just take off alone for days or weeks, hiking through the Alps or across the French countryside with just some bread, sausage and canteen of wine (so French!) and no idea of her destination. I love reading about her and Sartre’s trips to Spain and Italy and Morocco, where they could only afford the cheapest deck crossing on ships and often slept in parks, or barns, or in ruins they where there to sightseeing. Later she takes up cycling and rides off a cliff face, twice, the second time losing a tooth and swelling her whole face so that only after two weeks when her facial swelling goes down does she realize her tooth is embedded in her face (which apparently is a thing that happens, my nephew cut his foot open in a lake this summer, it took a while to heal and after a month it was still itching, so he was picking at it and a shell popped out! He had been walking around with a part of zebra mussel shell in his foot for almost a month! In his defense, he’s only 7.)
This volume illuminates the birth of her political awareness. Up until the start of WW II she pays little notice to current events and politics, passing by strikes on her way to see tourist attraction without a thought. It is fascinating to watch as she gradually becomes more aware, for instance how she cries inconsolably during a visit to cousin’s factory at the working conditions. I thought the switching to her actual diary entries at start of the war and the fall of France was interesting, the frenzied tone embodies the uncertainly and excitement of the time. I like how the diary fades out as she becomes accustomed to war, as people do become accustomed to anything. Even her lust for travel is not stopped by the Nazi occupation though she decries the "chic refuges" that she only distinguish herself from by being broke, even as she remains the firmly part middle class as much as she hates to admit it. And her joy of experiencing the liberation of Paris is infectious. Even if you have no interest her life, philosophy and the exciting times she lived, this stands alone as a beautifully written narrative. I thought about giving this 5 stars but went with four, if only to separate it from the more superior first volume. I suppose I'll have to read the next one as well.
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In the second volume of her memoirs, Simone de Beauvoir tells you what it was like to be a young woman living with Sartre. There were many interesting surprises. I hadn't realized what a natural gift for languages he had - there was an incident when someone thought he might be a spy, because his German accent was just too damn good. I hadn't realized either what a lot of fun he was (really! I'm not being ironic!), or that he was so mentally unstable. He had some rather startling delusions about,
In the second volume of her memoirs, Simone de Beauvoir tells you what it was like to be a young woman living with Sartre. There were many interesting surprises. I hadn't realized what a natural gift for languages he had - there was an incident when someone thought he might be a spy, because his German accent was just too damn good. I hadn't realized either what a lot of fun he was (really! I'm not being ironic!), or that he was so mentally unstable. He had some rather startling delusions about, if I recall correctly, a giant squid...
And that love triangle/
ménage à trois
with Olga. Was there ever a relationship quite so exhaustively described in literature? You can read about it here, then in fictionalized form in her novel
L'Invitée
, and then in a different fictionalized form in Sartre's novel
L'Age de Raison
. Some incidents, e.g. the one where he hurts his hand trying to impress her at the nightclub, turn up in all three.
And I still don't properly understand what happened. In fact, if you're the sort of person who buys autobiographies to get the low-down on the author's sex life, I'll warn you now that you aren't going to find out a damn thing. I'm not quite sure why she made that decision.
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After being
blown away
by the first volume of Simone de Beauvoir's memoirs last September, I knew I had to get to the second installment as soon as possible. Let me just say, it did not disappoint. Covering the years from 1929, when Beauvoir graduated from college and first lived on her own as an adult, through the development of her ideas and interpersonal relationships of the 1930s and into the war years to the liberation of Paris in 1944,
La force de l'âge
(translated into English as
The Prim
After being
blown away
by the first volume of Simone de Beauvoir's memoirs last September, I knew I had to get to the second installment as soon as possible. Let me just say, it did not disappoint. Covering the years from 1929, when Beauvoir graduated from college and first lived on her own as an adult, through the development of her ideas and interpersonal relationships of the 1930s and into the war years to the liberation of Paris in 1944,
La force de l'âge
(translated into English as
The Prime of Life
) is seven hundred pages of densely-packed insight, and a new favorite for me.
In both volumes I've read, what sets Beauvoir's autobiographical writing apart is her concern with both the specific details of her own life at any given time (standard memoir fare), and also with drilling down into the ontological state of
being
a 5-year-old girl, a 23-year-old intellectual, a 32-year-old novelist, and so on. In
Mémoires
, for example, she describes the gradual process she went through in order to understand the nature of signifier and signified, believing at first that the word "vache" was uniquely and innately bound to the actual cow-object, and only later coming to accept that language and other systems of thought are arbitrarily imposed by humans in order to divide up and make sense of the world around them. Similarly, in
La force de l'âge
Beauvoir delves into her persistent perception, throughout her 20s, that her own subjectivity and way of being in the world is "true"—the subjectivity of others being a persistent myth which she might believe intellectually but for which she saw little viscerally convincing evidence. She, like so many people in their teens and early twenties, perceives herself at this time as the center of her universe: she is vaguely threatened when she encounters people who cannot be "annexed" to her own circle of friends or way of being, and is frankly incredulous at the idea that any serious catastrophe could ever happen to her. She calls this irrational but stubborn mode of thought her "schizophrenia," and analyzes throughout the book the different ways in which it manifested and developed over the years.
Ainsi, nos aînés nous interdisaient-ils d'envisager qu'une guerre fût seulement possible. Sartre avait trop d'imagination, et trop encline à l'horreur, pour respecter tout à fait cette consigne; des visions le traversaient dont certaines ont marqué
La Nausée
: des villes en émeute, tous les rideaux de fer tirés, du sang aux carrefours et sur la mayonnaise des charcuteries. Moi, je poursuivais avec entrain mon rêve de schizophrène. Le monde existait, à la manière d'un objet aux replis innombrables et dont la découverte serait toujours une aventure, mais non comme un champ de forces capables de me contrarier.
Also, our elders forbade us to envisage that a war was even possible. Sartre had too much imagination, and that too inclined to horror, to respect this ban completely; visions passed through his mind of which some featured in
Nausea
: cities in a state of riot, all the shop gates pulled down, blood in the intersections and in the butcher's mayonnaise. Me, I continued cheerfully in my schizophrenic dream. The world existed, in the manner of an object with innumerable folds whose discovery would always be an adventure, but not as a force field capable of thwarting me.
Beauvoir examines the ways in which this "schizophrenic dream" is facilitated by her unacknowledged privilege: the world never seems to deny her the things she really cares about, so she imagines that it is not capable of doing so. Similarly, the deprivations she suffers in the pre-war period (she and Sartre are living paycheck-to-paycheck, without much luxury) are things about which she never cared in the first place, and are more than made up for by the freedoms inherent in the belief that nothing truly bad will happen to her. This ability to live the life that best suits her own nature, in turn engenders a philosophy of extreme individualism in the young Beauvoir: throughout their 20s she and Sartre distrust any political organizations, identifying as liberal intellectuals but limiting themselves to the role of witnesses when, for example, the Front Populaire wins the 1936 elections and institutes the 40-hour work week and paid vacation. Although this complaisance is threatened on a number of occasions and evolves over the years, it isn't until the outbreak of the Second World War that Beauvoir's insularity is truly overturned, and that she accepts on a fundamental level her solidarity with other people, and the uncertainty of all human lives. I know this passage is long, but I find it so beautiful I have to share.
[N]on seulement la guerre avait changé mes rapports à tout, mais elle avait tout changé: les ciels de Paris et les villages de Bretagne, la bouche des femmes, les yeux des enfants. Après juin 1940, je ne reconnus plus les choses, ni les gens, ni les heures, ni les lieux, ni moi-même. Le temps, qui pendant dix ans avait tourné sur place, brusquement bougeait, il m'entraînait: sans quitter les rues de Paris, je me trouvais plus dépaysée qu'après avoir franchi des mers, autrefois. Aussi naïve qu'un enfant qui croit à la verticale absolue, j'avais pensé que la vérité du monde était fixe... [...]
Quel malentendu! J'avais vécu non pas un fragment d'éternité mais une période transitoire: l'avant-guerre. [...] La victoire même n'allait pas renverser le temps et ressusciter un ordre provisoirement dérangée; elle ouvrait une nouvelle époque: l'après-guerre. Aucun brin d'herbe, dans aucun pré, ni sous aucun de mes regards, ne redeviendrait jamais ce qu'il avait été. L'éphémère était mon lot. Et l'Histoire charriait pêle-mêle, avec des moments glorieux, un énorme fatras de douleurs sans remède.
Not only had the war changed my relationship with everything, but it had changed everything: the skies of Paris and the villages of Brittany, the mouths of women, the eyes of children. After June 1940, I no longer recognized things, or people, or hours, or places, or myself. Time, which for ten years had revolved in place, suddenly moved, and carried me away: without leaving the streets of Paris, I found myself more disoriented than I had been after crossing the seas in former times. Naive as a child who believes in the absolute vertical, I had thought that the truth of the world was fixed ... [...]
What a misunderstanding! I had lived through, not a fragment of eternity, but a transitory era: the pre-war. [...] Even victory would not reverse time and restore some provisionally disarranged order; it would begin a new era: the post-war. No blade of grass, in any field, under any gaze of mine, would ever return to what it was. The ephemeral was my lot. And History barreled along pell-mell, with glorious moments, an immense jumble of grief with no cure.
This trajectory from individualism to solidarity is just one thread running through
La force de l'âge
, and is linked with many more: the need for autonomy and connection; Beauvoir's burgeoning feminism and the ways in which she balances that with her long-term relationship to Jean-Paul Sartre; her fear of and eventual partial acceptance of death, and the ways in which she realizes that catastrophes can happen to her as well as to other people. This is all examined with an intelligence both patient and passionate, and makes Beauvoir's narrative far more memorable than a simple catalog of events.
At the same time, there is also plenty of the kind of thing that makes standard biography and autobiography interesting. Beauvoir chronicles the voyages she and Sartre took all over Europe during the 1930s, traveling in Spain in 1931 (still giddy with the rise of the Second Spanish Republic), Italy in the early 1930s (where they saw their first Fascist), Berlin shortly after Hitler's rise to power, Greece in the late 30s, France's Free Zone during the war. She describes her long backpacking trips in France and elsewhere, in which she takes off alone on foot for weeks at a time, armed with her wine-skin and espadrilles. She writes about the couple's non-traditional romantic arrangements, their decision to eschew legal marriage and monogamy and the struggles and benefits that result from that. The second half of the memoir, which deals with the war years, provides a vivid account of the everyday chaos, uncertainty, shifting moods and sudden devastation of life in Paris during the German occupation.
There are, of course, pages on Beauvoir's and Sartre's famous friends, among them Albert Camus and Alberto Giacommetti. She describes exhaustively the plays and films she saw from year to year, and her reactions to painting, sculpture, and music. Unsurprisingly, she also writes with insight about the books that she and Sartre read and discussed during those years, going into great detail at times about why the work of novelists like Faulkner and Dos Passos was so important to her, both as a writer and as a person. Beauvoir acknowledges beautifully the way in which the discovery of a book can be a pivotal life event.
Of course, she also records her own writing life and that of Sartre, both from an artistic-development standpoint and from a perspective of publishing, critical reception, and political engagement. I look forward to revisiting these passages when I'm more familiar with both of their novels and essays. Even without that familiarity, though, I was impressed with the frankness Beauvoir brings to a discussion of her own work: she is not easy on herself, and in retrospect she finds herself guilty of many serious flaws. At the same time, she does not hesitate to point out the elements which she still, after 20 or more years, finds powerful or effective. She gives the impression of taking herself seriously, but not more seriously than she would any other writer. So too, she examines the ways in which one book lead to the next for her, each one being a reaction to and against its predecessor.
I've spent almost a month with
La force de l'âge
, and although I am ready to be done with this volume for now, I also feel a tiny bit sad to put it on the shelf; I know it will be one I return to many times in the future. I also feel so lucky to be about to visit Paris and Rouen, where Sartre and Beauvoir lived and taught. I hope to pick up more of her work while I'm there!
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«
[...] je sais qu'on ne peut jamais se connaître mais seulement se raconter.
» (p. 420)
J'ai fait la rencontre de Simone via ses
Mémoires d'une jeune fille rangée
, lus une fois sans trop d'intérêt, puis redécouverts avec beaucoup d'enthousiasme il y a quoi, un an & demi? Comme quoi c'est pas parce qu'on relit un livre qu'on y trouve rien de nouveau.
J'avais énormément aimé
Mémoires
, &
La force de l'âge
reprend là où le premier tome s'était terminé. Nous sommes en 1929, Simone vient tout j
«
[...] je sais qu'on ne peut jamais se connaître mais seulement se raconter.
» (p. 420)
J'ai fait la rencontre de Simone via ses
Mémoires d'une jeune fille rangée
, lus une fois sans trop d'intérêt, puis redécouverts avec beaucoup d'enthousiasme il y a quoi, un an & demi? Comme quoi c'est pas parce qu'on relit un livre qu'on y trouve rien de nouveau.
J'avais énormément aimé
Mémoires
, &
La force de l'âge
reprend là où le premier tome s'était terminé. Nous sommes en 1929, Simone vient tout juste de passer l'agrégation qui lui permettra d'enseigner la philosophie ; elle passe le plus clair de son temps avec Sartre, & leurs vies sont déjà comme irrémédiablement, merveilleusement entremêlées. Leur relation tient une place centrale dans le récit que Simone fait de sa vie (si ce n'est que parce que Sartre est pratiquement
toujours
avec elle), mais, & c'est une chose qui m'a frappé, l'auteure n'essaie jamais d'expliquer l'intimité particulière qu'ils partagent, ou même d'y faire pénétrer le lecteur. Le lien qui les unit est présenté comme quelque chose qui va de soit, & qui n'a pas besoin d'être expliqué ; d'un autre côté, on saisit immédiatement toute l'ampleur de l'influence qu'ils ont l'un sur l'autre. Sans jamais vraiment comprendre ce que Simone faisait avec Sartre (qui m'a semblé, je sais pas, perpétuellement pédant & condescendant...?), j'ai pas pu m'empêcher d'éprouver une drôle de fascination frustrée pour le couple qu'ils forment dans
La force de l'âge
.
Mais il n'y a pas que Sartre dans ce deuxième tome des mémoires de Simone (...heureusement), tome qui couvre une période fertile, bouillonnante d'idées & de changements, de 1929 jusqu'en 1945. On assiste aux débuts de la carrière d'enseignante de l'auteure, tout d'abord dans des lycées de province, puis à Paris ; on a droit au récit de ses amitiés, à l'élargissement progressif de son cercle de connaissances dans le milieu intellectuelo-bohème qu'elle a choisi ; on la suit dans tous ses voyages à l'étranger & ses excursions en montagne, de longues randonnées où elle s'éreinte avec une passion grande comme ça. On apprend à connaître la France des années 30 -- la France, mais surtout Paris, dans descriptions où Simone mêle joliment la nostalgie qu'elle éprouve au moment de revisiter ses souvenirs & la fébrilité enthousiaste que les débuts de sa vraie vie d'adulte lui avaient, à l'époque, mis dans le coeur. Mais dès la fin de cette décennie il y a la guerre qui pointe, puis l'occupation, puis les privations & la frustration qui précèdent la libération. Avec toujours, en parallèle, l'éclosion d'une écrivaine & d'une intellectuelle, qui travaille de façon acharnée dans tous les coins de café qu'on veut bien lui laisser occuper.
C'est un gros livre épais, avec quelques longueurs pas toujours agréables -- je pense ici à tous les passages qui détaillent les avancées philosophiques de Sartre -- mais j'y ai pris un plaisir particulier, un plaisir tout en admiration pour un personnage aussi intéressant, qui sait se raconter sans fioritures ni excès.
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Apart from the fact that it is always fascinating to read about the life of a writer, especially if it's an autobiography (and, in this case, you get so much more than just Simone's life), and that the book mainly covers the years before and during WWII in Paris (fascinating read), the book is so well written and describes such an array of different things that I felt from the very first moment that this would be one of my favourite books ever, and so it is. Simone led a very interesting life, e
Apart from the fact that it is always fascinating to read about the life of a writer, especially if it's an autobiography (and, in this case, you get so much more than just Simone's life), and that the book mainly covers the years before and during WWII in Paris (fascinating read), the book is so well written and describes such an array of different things that I felt from the very first moment that this would be one of my favourite books ever, and so it is. Simone led a very interesting life, especially for a woman at the time, and had a fascinating personality. I was particularly surprised about how neutral she and Sartre remained politically speaking for quite a long time. It is a long book and I agree that there are plenty of descriptions of people and works of art from the time but it is so worth at least one read.
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The Prime of Life is Simone de Beauvoir's memoirs of her 20's and 30's in the pre-war and then occupied France until the liberation of Paris in 1944. She recollects her youth with Sartre and the bohemian circle of friends they were a part of. I found her style of writing very appealing - it is honest and simple, but there is also dignity in it that perhaps precludes her from writing too directly about her friends. She never claims to be a higher moral authority and there is little to no judgment
The Prime of Life is Simone de Beauvoir's memoirs of her 20's and 30's in the pre-war and then occupied France until the liberation of Paris in 1944. She recollects her youth with Sartre and the bohemian circle of friends they were a part of. I found her style of writing very appealing - it is honest and simple, but there is also dignity in it that perhaps precludes her from writing too directly about her friends. She never claims to be a higher moral authority and there is little to no judgment in her stories about her young self and others.
Simone de Beauvoir is considered a mother of modern feminism, but this book has little of her views on it. Instead one can glimplse her philosophy in the way she lived and recollected her youth. When one considers the social conventions of her time, it becomes clear that her choice not to marry or live with a man, not to have children, to travel on her own through Europe, to remain independent both emotionally and financially required considerable courage. She does not seem burdened by the judgments of others, at least not as much as can be glimpsed in her writing.
I found her descriptions of travels through Europe particularly charming - she would put any backpacker and budget traveler to shame in 2015. She recollects sleeping in sheds and haystacks and on hotel roofs to cut down the expenses, hiking for miles to get to the next town, and spending all of her money so that she'd have nothing to buy a morsel of food with. She traveled with friends, acquaintances, and on her own on trains, buses, cars, bicycles and on foot carrying a simple rucksack and wearing cloth espadrilles to see places as they are, without the glamor of touristic attraction. She seems to have found cities, villages, treks through hills and mountains equally fascinating.
Equally engrossing are her tales of friendships with Sartre, and their close circle of friends, including Olga who became both her and Sartre's lover. Although de Beauvoir is not blunt on this subject, she does talk about the emotions that all three of them experienced, albeit somewhat indirectly. She also describes her relationships with some of her students and others who were close to her in one manner or another. I found the interludes about theatrical performances, books, and movies of the time hard to connect to, so I skipped over some of them. They made me realize that certain instances of art lose relevance very quickly, but it is almost impossible to tell which ones will remain in people's collective memory. The authors she mentioned were mostly unfamiliar to me, let alone the actors or performers of the time.
She does write directly about feminism in a few places, one in particular stuck with me where she talks about the misconceptions about her novel The Second Sex. I think this quote sheds light on one of the main misunderstandings in feminism: what equality of men and women means. "... Have I ever written that women were the same as men? Have I ever claimed that I, personally, was not a woman? On the contrary, my main purpose has been to isolate and identify my own particular brand of femininity. (...) I did not deny my femininity any more than I took it for granted: I simply ignored it. I had the same freedoms and responsibilities as men did."
The book is a long read, but I highly recommend it to anyone interested in the intellectual society during some of the most turbulent years of 20th century.
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Have you ever read a book and the first sentence you read you can't stop because it has struck forcefully at how you define yourself? This is that book for me. De Beauvoir wrote her autobiography in four parts, indulgent? Not particularly. Although De Beauvoir obviously writes from her perspective, she's often focusing on the world around her, her developments as a writer in a community of writers and how the war that surrounds her impacts her philosophy. This book focuses on De Beauvoir's life
Have you ever read a book and the first sentence you read you can't stop because it has struck forcefully at how you define yourself? This is that book for me. De Beauvoir wrote her autobiography in four parts, indulgent? Not particularly. Although De Beauvoir obviously writes from her perspective, she's often focusing on the world around her, her developments as a writer in a community of writers and how the war that surrounds her impacts her philosophy. This book focuses on De Beauvoir's life from just as she's leaving home and meeting Jean-Paul Sartre to the end of the Second World War. She charts her relationship with Sartre and the developments of their philosophies, and the impacts the war had on each of their worldviews. This book also provides an inside look at that specific community of writer's-socialist, progressive, existentialists-who came to prominence at this time.
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Ei yhtä hyvä kuin muistelmien ensimmäinen osa; ajoittain väsyttävän yksityiskohtaista oman ajan pikku-uutisten ja kulttuuritapahtumien kuvailua, joka ei oikein enää aukea. Kuvaa kuitenkin ajattomasti kirjailijan henkistä kehitystä, harvinaislaatuista suhdetta Sartreen ja hidasta havahtumista(/kieltäytymistä havahtumasta) toisen maailmansodan uhkaamaan todellisuuteen.
One of the highlights of this year was this little tome, and a huge thank you is owed to the person who bequeathed it to me. This volume begins with de Beauvoir as a young twenty year old, let loose in Paris for the first time, with a man on her mind and all of the freedom of the twenties to enjoy. The book ends with the liberation of Paris after the Second World War, de Beauvoir somewhat haggard and scorched, but no less enchanted with her city. The city itself makes the book; the tremendous de
One of the highlights of this year was this little tome, and a huge thank you is owed to the person who bequeathed it to me. This volume begins with de Beauvoir as a young twenty year old, let loose in Paris for the first time, with a man on her mind and all of the freedom of the twenties to enjoy. The book ends with the liberation of Paris after the Second World War, de Beauvoir somewhat haggard and scorched, but no less enchanted with her city. The city itself makes the book; the tremendous detail of cafes, street corners and local oddities is suffused throughout. No less enjoyable are de Beauvoir's accounts of her travels (often including Sartre, who features thankfully less towards the end of the book), most notably to Berlin where they were both repulsed at the lack of coffee shops. The presence of the Second World War overshadows the latter half of the work, transforming a jocular life into something cynical and mysterious. The detachment was incredible, de Beauvoir's diary entries reveal someone totally disbelieving war would even strike, and grossly underestimating its severity when it did. The anecdote that remains with me is undoubtedly de Beauvoir with two men drinking the champagne of an Austrian women sent to a concentration camp with no knowledge of the perils that undoubtedly befell her. The transformation of the Germans from nebulous forces to people deserving of full-throttled hatred was no less interesting. I shrieked like a teenage fangirl when Camus was introduced so cooly, and laughed as they all read Picasso's absurd play. All in all, it was a fantastic piece of writing - characters could have been edited out for the ease of the reader trying to keep track, and I would have cared for more resolution with the original Olga, but it remains one of the greatest things I have read this year.
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Beauvoir's second volume of autobiography was first published in France in 1960. She begins with the opening months of her relationship with Jean Paul Sartre. The sense of freedom she enjoys as a graduated student, out of the family home, making her own living and having a lover at last, is palpable.
She describes the details of the life she and Sartre created: their vows to tell each other everything, their decision to grant each other complete freedom (inclu
CONTINUING MY EXPLORATION OF BEAUVOIR
Beauvoir's second volume of autobiography was first published in France in 1960. She begins with the opening months of her relationship with Jean Paul Sartre. The sense of freedom she enjoys as a graduated student, out of the family home, making her own living and having a lover at last, is palpable.
She describes the details of the life she and Sartre created: their vows to tell each other everything, their decision to grant each other complete freedom (including the freedom to have other lovers), and the setting of life-long goals to be writers who are engaged with the world and making a difference. All of this is as intoxicating as only life can be when you are in your early twenties and meet THE person with whom you are going to share it all.
Bouts of jealousy and insecurity follow swiftly when Sartre DOES indulge in other lovers. Due to the locations of their respective teaching jobs on the far outskirts of Paris, they are forced to be apart much of the time. Beauvoir's newly awakened sexuality takes her by surprise with its intensity.
But hardest of all for Simone are her years of learning to be a writer. She describes in detail the travails of writing and destroying two novels before she completed and sold her first, She Came to Stay.
Just as she finally found a way to sublimate her physical energies by hiking endless miles through mountains and plains as a voracious traveler with Sartre, with other lovers both male and female, and on her own, the war began to impact all of France. She covers the German invasion and occupation followed by the years of deprivation, danger and the Resistance.
During the war she completed her second novel, The Blood of Others, about a Resistance fighter and his struggles to leave behind his bourgeois background. Other than Irene Nemirovsky's Suite Francaise and Arthur Koestler's Scum of the Earth, I had not read much about what WWII was like in France. Because Beauvoir was not Jewish, she escaped that danger, but she makes clear the horror and degradation of having to live under German occupation and of watching politicians and countrymen collaborating with the enemy.
The volume closes with the liberation of Paris bringing a burst of returned freedom and new hope. I enjoyed every page.
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I have now read this book at least three times over the years and each time I find something else in it to delight me. It tells the story of the philosopher Jean Paul Satre's partner, Simone de Beauvoir who can sometimes be overshadowed in other books by the great man himself. Simone de Beauvoir had an amazing life . She was a feminist and social theorist and was as interested in existentialism as Satre. It beautifully evokes Paris and it was this book that originally made me want to visit Paris
I have now read this book at least three times over the years and each time I find something else in it to delight me. It tells the story of the philosopher Jean Paul Satre's partner, Simone de Beauvoir who can sometimes be overshadowed in other books by the great man himself. Simone de Beauvoir had an amazing life . She was a feminist and social theorist and was as interested in existentialism as Satre. It beautifully evokes Paris and it was this book that originally made me want to visit Paris and in particular, the Café de Flore in Paris where Beauvoir and Satre would sit for hours discussing politics and philosophy.
Phyl
I have now read this book at least three times over the years and each time I find something else in it to delight me. It tells the story of the philo
I have now read this book at least three times over the years and each time I find something else in it to delight me. It tells the story of the philosopher Jean Paul Satre's partner, Simone de Beauvoir who can sometimes be overshadowed in other books by the great man himself. Simone de Beauvoir had an amazing life . She was a feminist and social theorist and was as interested in existentialism as Satre. It beautifully evokes Paris and it was this book that originally made me want to visit Paris and in particular, the Café de Flore in Paris where Beauvoir and Satre would sit for hours discussing politics and philosophy.
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Sep 13, 2014 03:12AM
Phyl
Thoroughly recommend this book
Sep 13, 2014 03:15AM
Simone De Beauvoir is an interesting character, and autobiographies intrigue me because I usually end up liking the author LESS after reading their own portrayal of themselves. Not in this case though. The time she covers in this book goes from her early twenties to her mid thirties, and I felt I was able to identify with her in a lot of her concerns. Her accounts of famous artists in her circle of friends was fascinating, and of course, the backdrop of Paris during World War Two lent a very int
Simone De Beauvoir is an interesting character, and autobiographies intrigue me because I usually end up liking the author LESS after reading their own portrayal of themselves. Not in this case though. The time she covers in this book goes from her early twenties to her mid thirties, and I felt I was able to identify with her in a lot of her concerns. Her accounts of famous artists in her circle of friends was fascinating, and of course, the backdrop of Paris during World War Two lent a very interesting historical aspect to the book.
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The second in Beauvoir’s autobiography series; this has been said to be her best, and I can see why. Beauvoir comes into adulthood, works on clarifying her relationship with Sartre (how fascinating I find their relationship – it seems so impossible but they still manage to make it a success), her writing grows, her teaching career blossoms (and stops), and WWII is a dominating frightful factor. Highly engaging.
This was a bit sad to read, especially after having read her other autobiographical accounts of her younger years, since in this book she seemed to be preparing herself mentally for leaving this world, and many people around her were already dying. But her wisdom-filled reflections and comments in this book are very interesting.
And Simone leaves us with some cheery thoughts on death: "My greatest wish was to die with the one I loved; yet though our bodies might lie side by side, such contact would remain illusory. Between nothing and nothing there can be no bond."
I read this book when I was in my early twenties. It is wonderful and amazing. Simone de Beauvoir's genius fell under the shadow of Jean Paul Sartre's. She should have been as or more famous as he was. She was brilliant.
Overall well worth reading. It evokes vivid pictures of Paris in the 1930s and early '40s. Occasionally tedious - in long descriptions of people I didn't know (I read this when I was very young, but found it inspiring.)
it's too long. full of WWII era slacker-anarchist-intellectual philosophy that's still fresh and provocative sixty years later. also we see the intellectual development of beauvoir and sartre.
So. I've been reading this for over a year now. An awful lot heavier going than the first volume of autobiography. And also - that Satre! (shakes head).
"Simone de Beauvoir was a French author and philosopher. She wrote novels, monographs on philosophy, politics, and social issues, essays, biographies, and an autobiography. She is now best known for her metaphysical novels, including
She Came to Stay
and
The Mandarins
, and for her 1949 treatise
The Second Sex
, a detailed analysis of women's oppression and a foundational tract of contemporary femin
"Simone de Beauvoir was a French author and philosopher. She wrote novels, monographs on philosophy, politics, and social issues, essays, biographies, and an autobiography. She is now best known for her metaphysical novels, including
She Came to Stay
and
The Mandarins
, and for her 1949 treatise
The Second Sex
, a detailed analysis of women's oppression and a foundational tract of contemporary feminism."
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“To abstain from politics is in itself a political attitude.”
—
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“To be oneself, simply oneself, is so amazing and utterly unique an experience that it's hard to convince oneself so singular a thing happens to everybody.”
—
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