Intimité et autres objets fragiles by Marie-Ève Sévigny (review)

intriguing method for storytelling and for detective work. There is no linear progression of the plot. Rather the reader moves along as if looking over Clovis’s shoulder at photos, documentary films, and other apparent evidence to piece together the past. There is talent in Renonçay’s writing style. Trinity University (TX) Roland A. Champagne SÉVIGNY, MARIE-ÈVE. Intimité et autres objets fragiles. Montréal: Triptyque, 2012. ISBN 978-2-89031-744-4. Pp. 100. $18 Can. Sévigny’s Intimité may be slight in size, but its short stories are not without a certain moral weight. As the publisher’s insert announces, the stories explore “la frontière entre la vie privée et la vie publique des êtres que nous côtoyons,” that is, not full-frontal intimacy, but that borderland where we risk going too far into some other human being’s private territory or, quite the opposite, where we do not venture far enough. One of the compelling qualities of the collection is the variety of ways in which Sévigny renders the concept of human intimacy. Readers would rightly assume that the author might feature love stories, though only one of them comes close to suggesting erotic passion. “Une carte à la clé” follows a lover’s indiscreet reading of a postcard that evokes an earlier romantic interlude in his partner’s life. His identification with “Alter,” the name he assigns to his unknown rival, leads him to imagine a relationship that is perhaps nothing more than the mirror image of his own. “Intimité” takes an opposite tack, with a protagonist who jealously protects her privacy by renting off-season cottages in frigid and isolated surroundings. Her frankly uncordial behavior toward a neighbor she imagines to be interfering (“avoir des principes, c’est rarement avoir du plaisir” [32]) turns out to be inappropriate, as the neighbor’s well-meaning overtures were intended for the cottage owner alone. Sauvage though she may be about her own privacy, the protagonist finds herself drawn to the unspoken and untraceable connection between two other people. In yet another of these stories, “Tout sucre, tout beurre,” a man returned to bachelorhood goes to comic lengths to protect his personal life from the meddlesome habits of his co-workers, who enjoy hawking the private lives of anyone and everyone on the open market of office gossip. More touchingly rendered are the tales of individuals (a paraplegic EMT, a schizophrenic, a homeless person, an aging nursing home resident) for whom an intimate life, let alone a cherished and protected identity, is unimaginable from the outside—though the author explores just such possibilities. Sévigny constructs her nouvelles with a subtlety that privileges tone and detail rather than plot. Some of the stories give voice to the renowned québécois humor, for example, when a character remarks: “Une mouche, oui, une mouche me réveille, exultant d’avoir été dégelée” (30). Other stories are marked with a stronger brand of irony: “Les gens se moquent de la vie des autres. Tout ce qui les intéresse, c’est de valider la leur par contraste” (42). But Sévigny’s tone does not get any harsher than that; all of the tales seem to support the title’s suggestion that intimacy is not to be roughly handled. Reading this collection brought to mind positive comparisons with the grande dame of short story writing, Annie Saumont. Very much like her, Sévigny crafts her stories with controlled efficiency that nevertheless does not diminish the impact of her mostly unanticipated endings. Sévigny also has come close to perfecting the art of voice—appropriately so given the theme of the 1302 FRENCH REVIEW 86.6 collection—although she does not have the same range of register as Saumont. Colleagues in search of short works for the classroom should find Intimité’s stories accessible but thought-provoking. Lawrence University (WI) Eilene Hoft-March STHERS, AMANDA. Rompre le charme. Paris: Stock, 2012. ISBN 978-2-234-07168-1. Pp. 144. 16,50 a. Ce roman d’inspiration autobiographique, écrit à la première personne, est émotionnellement dur, parfois violent. Amanda, la narratrice, est écrivain et...