Patrick Modiano, L’Herbe des Nuits (2012 French / The Black Notebook, Eng. 2016)
Allow me to wax nostalgic for a second (or two), because as I am writing this post, WordPress just reminded me that today is my tenth blogiversary! I can’t believe I have been doing this for a decade, can you? (Dear husband, always the optimist, believed it was for longer than that). I don’t remember how we did before Google, but I am starting to not remember how I did before I had this blog!
It’s quite fitting to the occasion, actually, that I was about to post about Modiano, because he is all about memory, looking back at the past to understand new meanings or distort the actual facts. His tone is definitely nostalgic – and I’m starting to get the hang of it.
I didn’t have a great experience with the first Modiano, So you don’t get lost in the neighborhood, but this one was already a lot better, although one may say that it was sort of similar.
This time, a mature writer, Jean, revisits an old notebook he kept as a student, back when he was scribbling away in notebooks, unpublished yet and dating a girl named Dannie. She is a charming, mysterious girl and holds the young man under her spell, even if he guesses that there is a lot more to her than what she lets on. They spend time in bars, meet shady characters, go to places that aren’t Dannie’s but for whom she nonetheless has the key. She has moments of guilt, of doubt, of desperation, but then she gathers her wits and carries on under Jean’s bewildered gaze. Dannie is not her real name, nor is she a real student, but still Jean can’t help but follow her across Paris, night after night, adoringly.
As the previous book the sense of place is prevalent. Characters are drifting like shadows, but real streets, real buildings, old neighborhoods of Paris that have undergone radical transformation between the 1960s and the present time (here especially Montparnasse) are all characters in the book. I love the poetic of the French title of this book, The Grass of Nights, although the English title is more precise. Modiano invites you to revisit the places you have been in your childhood and look for new meanings. I arrived in Paris in 1994, more than 20 years ago, close to Montparnasse, and certainly the city has imperceptibly changed (not so radically than Chinese cities, but still), giving the impression to stay the same while being slightly different. That’s within this tiny gap between what we remember and what really was that Modiano builds his stories that are both thin and deep.