Front Cover
Gallimard, 1983 - Fiction - 276 pages
7 Reviews
Ce livre est écrit sous la forme d'un dialogue entre Nathalie Sarraute et son double qui, par ses mises en garde, ses scrupules, ses interrogations, son insistance, l'aide à faire surgir " quelques moments, quelques mouvements encore intacts, assez forts pour se dégager de cette couche protectrice qui les conserve, de ces épaisseurs (...) ouatées qui se défont et disparaissent avec l'enfance ". Enfance passée entre Paris, Ivanovo, en Russie, la Suisse, Pétersbourg et de nouveau Paris. Un livre où l'on peut voir se dessiner déjà le futur grand écrivain qui donnera plus tard une œuvre dont la sonorité est unique à notre époque.

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Review: Enfance

User Review  - Maria Kadàr - Goodreads

Actually , I adored that book. I will never be able to describe how I feel each time I read it. I'm obsessed , maybe because of the flowing writing style or because of the story....Or just maybe both. Nathalie is no doubt an outstanding author. My favorite one. Read full review

Review: Enfance

User Review  - Debra - Goodreads

How we recall our childhoods is one thing, how we choose to interpret them another, finding out the meaning of our existence. The moments of delight that remain can outweigh all the fears and difficult spots. Read full review

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About the author (1983)

Nathalie Sarraute has been an eloquent spokesperson and theorist of the new novel, as well as one of its most talented practitioners. In her essay on the art of fiction, The on The Age of Suspicion (1956), she condemned the techniques used in the novel of the past and took a stand beside Robbe-Grillet as a leader of the avant-garde. The novel, she feels, must express "that element of indetermination, of opacity, and mystery that one's own actions always have for the one who lives them." Her works have now become known to an international public. Her ability to render fleeting awareness and the psychological states underlying articulate speech has won both praise and disdain. Janet Flanner has called Sarraute "the only one among the New Novel experimenters who appears finally to have struck her own style---intense, observational, and personal." Of her novels, The Golden Fruits (1963)---about the Paris literary fortunes of an imaginary novel of the same name---is "the most barren of extraneous decor, the most accomplished from the standpoint of her esthetic aims" (SRSR). Tropisms (1939), her earliest (very brief) book, contains "all the raw material I have continued to develop in my later works." Her "tropisms," she says, are instinctive "sensations," or even "movements," "produced in us by the presence of others, or by objects from the outside world. [They hide] beneath the most commonplace conversations and the most everyday gestures." She regards her novels as composed of a series of tropisms of varying intensity.

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