Annie Ernaux

Who would have thought a person could write an entire book about a hyper market? I never heard of Auchan until I read this book. For those not in the know, located in France, it is described as a hyper-market on search engines. From Ernaux’s description and those on the Internet, I think there is nothing like it in the US. The author refers to it as a Supermarket, but it is nothing like what we call a supermarket here. It is a superstore, somewhat like the big box stores here but much more. It sells food, clothes, books, you name it, but not like Target or Costco. The bookstore is a separate area, as are many other little shops within the giant store, e.g the fishmonger. It is three stories, open 24/7, and according to the Internet, works toward being something for everyone while caring about the environment and such. The employees wear a uniform so in that regard they all look the same. The store attends to the needs of all the various religions of the people of France, Muslims, Jews, Christians, everyone. This is especially true when it comes to food. During certain holidays, the preferred food for that religious holiday becomes available.

Ernaux decides to go shopping there in 2012 and 2013 over a span of a year. She deliberately goes at different times of day to see if there are differences. There are. Certain groups of people shop early in the morning–like older people. Young singles go later, mom’s with children at a different time. When there is a no school day, gangs of teen girls show up to hang out and shop. When the weather is bad, people go there to escape. Once in a while someone recognizes her, tells her they love her writing, and they have a conversation. At the first floor entry where there are places to sit, she notices that older North African men seem to like to hang out there and watch the passerby’s.

She notices that while a person can shop in a sort of anonymity that is impossible while standing in the checkout line. Here your eating habits, what method you choose to pay, whether you have elderly people at home or babies or children are all on full display laying there on the conveyor belt for all to see. If you have to ask for help with the money, it exposes you as a foreigner. Yet people pretend they do not notice or care–perhaps they do not.

I occasionally go to Target, never to Walmart or Costco. Nevertheless, reading this book has made me notice things I never noticed before, and normally I am quite observant. Now even when I go to smaller grocery stores, I notice who is there, what they are buying. Sometimes people will ask me a question about something in the store. At places near my house, I sometimes see people I know and chat.

In the last few days, I’ve read three books by Annie Ernaux who won the Nobel Prize for literature in 2022. Although she is a major writer in France, I had never previously heard of her. Since the local library possessed none of her books, I drove to Claremont and checked out all of her books that were available. The publication dates range from 1974 to 2022.

Most of her books defy categorization. The librarian helped me find them because some were in fiction and some nonfiction. From just reading them, it is impossible to determine whether what I’m reading is real or imaginary or a combination. She writes about women’s lives mostly and issues that only women experience.

“The Young Man”, copyright 2022, tells a detailed account of a love affair between a young male student and a 50 something woman, thirty years older than he. They meet on weekends often at his apartment, make fervent love, visit sidewalk cafes, wander. The narrator notes that people sometimes look askance at them in a way they never view an older man and a younger woman. She finds love making helps her write, “Often I have made love to force myself to write.” At the end of the book are photos of Ernaux over the years (she was born in 1940) and a detailed biography.

Next I read “The Happening”, (2001) a detailed account of a young female student seeking an abortion when it was illegal in France. She manages to hide her state from most people including her parents. She finally finds an elderly nurse, but later experiences complications and ends up in the hospital where a young doctor, who thinks she is just some poor woman off the street, treats her badly. When he discovers she is a university student, he finds her and apologizes. It seems mistreating the poor is okay but not someone from his own class status.

Then I read “Simple Passion” (1991), a short (64 pages) detailed account an illicit love affair between a young, married man from Eastern Europe and the narrator. The telling part of this story is the narrator’s (the author?) obsession with this man she calls A. She waits for his calls 24/7. She thinks about him every waking moment and dreams about him at night. I kept thinking of myself and many women I know who have become obsessed with some man to their own detriment.

A a writer, I find her work totally fascinating in its extreme courage. She writes in detail about experiences few would dare to even talk about, but many experience and keep silent. Much of it is autobiographical, an even great demonstration of bravery. Who dares tell the truth of many of our own experiences? Very few of us.