Product Description

Beginning in Paris on the eve of the Nazi occupation in 1940. Suite Française tells the remarkable story of men and women thrown together in circumstances beyond their control. As Parisians flee the city, human folly surfaces in every imaginable way: a wealthy mother searches for sweets in a town without food; a couple is terrified at the thought of losing their jobs, even as their world begins to fall apart. Moving on to a provincial village now occupied by German soldiers, the locals must learn to coexist with the enemy—in their town, their homes, even in their hearts.

When Irène Némirovsky began working on Suite Française, she was already a highly successful writer living in Paris. But she was also a Jew, and in 1942 she was arrested and deported to Auschwitz, where she died. For sixty-four years, this novel remained hidden and unknown.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #4451 in Books
• Published on: 2007-04-10
• Released on: 2007-04-10
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 448 pages

Features

• ISBN13: 9781400096275
• Condition: NEW
• Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
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From Publishers Weekly
Starred Review. Celebrated in pre-WWII France for her bestselling fiction, the Jewish Russian-born Némirovsky was shipped to Auschwitz in the summer of 1942, months after this long-lost masterwork was composed. Némirovsky, a convert to Catholicism, began a planned five-novel cycle as Nazi forces overran northern France in 1940. This gripping "suite," collecting the first two unpolished but wondrously literary sections of a work cut short, have surfaced more than six decades after her death. The first, "Storm in June," chronicles the connecting lives of a disparate clutch of Parisians, among them a snobbish author, a venal banker, a noble priest shepherding churlish orphans, a foppish aesthete and a loving lower-class couple, all fleeing city comforts for the chaotic countryside, mere hours ahead of the advancing Germans. The second, "Dolce," set in 1941 in a farming village under German occupation, tells how peasant farmers, their pretty daughters and petit bourgeois collaborationists coexisted with their Nazi rulers. In a workbook entry penned just weeks before her arrest, Némirovsky noted that her goal was to describe "daily life, the emotional life and especially the comedy it provides." This heroic work does just that, by focusing—with compassion and clarity—on individual human dramas. (Apr. 18)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From The Washington Post
This extraordinary work of fiction about the German occupation of France is embedded in a real story as gripping and complex as the invented one. Composed in 1941-42 by an accomplished writer who had published several well-received novels, Suite Française, her last work, was written under the tremendous pressure of a constant danger that was to catch up with her and kill her before she had finished.

Irène Némirovsky was a Jewish, Russian immigrant from a wealthy family who had fled the Bolsheviks as a teenager. She spent her adult life in France, wrote in French but preserved the detachment and cool distance of the outsider. She and her husband were deported to Auschwitz in 1942, where he was gassed upon arrival and she died in the infirmary at the age of 39. Her manuscript, in minuscule and barely readable handwriting, was preserved by her daughters, who, ignorant of the fact that these notebooks contained a full-fledged masterpiece, left it unread until 60 years later. Once published, with an appendix that illuminates the circumstances of its origin and the author's plan for its completion, it quickly became a bestseller in France. It is hard to imagine a reader who will not be wholly engrossed and moved by this book.

Némirovsky's plan consisted of five parts. She completed only the first two before she was murdered. Yet they are not fragmentary; they read like polished novellas. The first, "Storm in June," gives us a cross section of the population during the initial exodus from the capital, when a battle for Paris was expected and people fled helter-skelter south, so that the roads were clogged with refugees of all classes. Némirovsky shows how much caste and money continued to matter, how the nation was not united in the face of danger and a common enemy. In her account, the well-to-do continue to be especially egotistical and petty. And yet a deep, unsentimental sympathy pervades this panorama. Looking up to the sky at enemy planes overhead, the refugees who have to sleep on the street or in their cars "lacked both courage and hope. This was how animals waited to die. It was the way fish caught in a net watch the shadow of the fisherman moving back and forth above them." I can't think of a more chilling and concise image to convey the helplessness of civilians in an air raid.

Not being French herself but steeped in French culture may have made it easier for Némirovsky to achieve her penetrating insights with Flaubertian objectivity. She gives us startling, steely etched sketches of both collaboration and resistance among people motivated by personal loyalties and grievances that date from before the war.

The second part, "Dolce" (the title -- Italian for "sweet" -- derives from Némirovsky's plan to give the work a musical structure), covers the occupation by the Germans of a small village, from the so-called armistice in June 1940 to the Soviet Union's entry into the war a year later. One can forget that there was a period after the defeat of France when World War II could be seen simply as a war between Germany and Britain. The villagers yearn for peace, and many are indifferent as to who wins, England or Germany, as long as their own men come home. Némirovsky is superb in describing how fraternization comes about, including French girls and women giving in to the attractions of the handsome German occupants -- there are no other men around, most of the French men having been taken prisoner. But the unnatural situation also breeds fierce feelings of resentment and humiliation. Némirovsky embodies this conflict in the story of a woman who falls in love with a German officer and at the same time hides a villager wanted for the murder of another German -- a murder motivated partly by patriotic hatred and partly by marital jealousy.

One puzzling omission from the spectrum of conquered and cowering French society is the Jews -- the one group that was more endangered than any other, as Némirovsky knew only too well. Perhaps she wanted to save the fate of the Jews for the next part, which was to be entitled "Captivity." Even so, when one thinks of the threat the Jewish population endured even at this early stage of persecution, one feels the significant gap here.

Still, this is an incomparable book, in some ways sui generis. While diaries give us a day-to-day record, their very inclusiveness can lead to tedium; memoirs, on the other hand, written at a later date, search for highlights and illuminate the past from the vantage point of the present. In Némirovsky's Suite Française we have the perfect mixture: a gifted novelist's account of a foreign occupation, written while it was taking place, with history and imagination jointly evoking a bitter time, correcting and enriching our memory.

Reviewed by Ruth Kluger
Copyright 2006, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved.

From Bookmarks Magazine
Némirovsky wrote Suite Française as the events that inspired them unfolded simultaneously; that alone makes the work remarkable. The first two novels came to light in 2004 (and were published to great acclaim in France) after Némirovsky's daughters revealed the existence of their mother's notebooks. With the author's notes about her next three novels (Captivity, Battles, and Peace?) included, it's clear that Némirovsky intended to write a sort of War and Peace. Even without Némirovsky's astonishing perspective, critics agree that the novels' witty characterizations, mesmerizing prose, cinematic scenes, and insightful observations make these novels short masterpieces. The New York Times expressed concern over characterization, and Newsday noted the absence of discussion about Jews. Still, Suite Française may be considered "the last great fiction of the war" (Pittsburgh Post-Gazette).
Copyright © 2004 Phillips & Nelson Media, Inc.

Customer Reviews

A Masterpiece
Having read much history about the 1940 fall of France, including such indispensible first person accounts as Bloch's "Strange Defeat," I have read nothing that captures the human experience of that debacle (arguably any debacle) as immediate and gripping as Ir?ne N?mirovsky's two novellas, all that was completed of what would have been the five part "Suite Fran?aise" (her title). Characters are as real as people we know well. They are vividly and deeply etched, with a focus and an economy of utterance that belie how engrained they become in the reader's mind. Without a central narrator, through the depiction of lives that in some cases are interlocking, in others tangential, indeed in most merely coeval, the feel of a world in dissolution has never been so effectively conveyed, both the general maelstrom and the personal experience. Transcending its time and place, it reminds us today how transitory everything is, how off-kilter, unbalanced, insecure life can suddenly become, indeed of the fragility of our existence, of how supporting structures such as class, belief, position, employ, wealth, can be swept away by happenstance or a tide of events we do not fully understand or foresee. When all material support is gone, all the characters (we) have left is what they (we) find within. For some, it's emptiness and pretension which always engender brutishness. Others are surprised by habits and qualities they took for granted or were not even aware they had: integrity, empathy, resourcefulness, even the grace and generosity inherent in good manners. Riches indeed. Ironically, the novelist as well as we, have always known that brutishness is not always punished nor does virtue always heal.

This novel speaks to the heart directly and, through the heart, to the intellect. The writing is thorough and gripping, detail is probed and embelished only when necessary. Some have described N?mirovsky's writing as Proustian. I think this is so only to the extent that the emerging picture is so flavorful and complete. The writing is always flowing yet compact; I don't recall a sentence which, unlike in Proust, could be remotely described as rococo. Though the events and composition are more than half a century removed from our time, the feel is oddly contemporary, the narrative's impact immediate and timeless.

The first novella has to do with the flight from Paris and the French defeat; the second, with life in a village under the occupation. But, of course, this is as adequate as saying that "War and Peace" is about Russia and Napoleon.

Read this book and be moved.

Recommendation: skip the introduction and don't browse the appendices first. Read the novel without concerning yourself with provenance. Afterwards by all means do read everything else. You will realize what a truly remarkable person wrote the gripping masterpiece you have just read, and the love and dedication by the author, her daughters and relevant others that ultimately brought this book into being. But, it must be emphasized: the greatness of "Suite Fran?aise" lies in the work, not in the circumstances of its provenance.

A timeless classic for today
I think this is a wonderful book, so moving and beautifully written that you realize after only a few pages, that you are reading a timeless classic, something that
will endure for ever in the same way as the great works of Tolstoy or
Flaubert. Actually the author has all the lyricism of Tolstoy - and the
breadth of vision - but doesn't hammer on about her 'message' as he can do.
Think of those passages in Anna Karenina where the great man begins to
describe Levin and the ideal life in the country. There is none of this in
Suite Francaise. And the wonder of it is that you don't realize the author
was a Jew living life on borrowed time , exiled to the French countryside and
with the full knowledge of what this invasion meant for her personally and
her family. There is no fear in the book. It is essentially and creatively
feminine. That Irene Nemirovsky was about to be taken and killed , that she was a
Jew in the middle of a European abomination , this never intrudes. You
don't read the book for what the author suffered, despite her knowledge of
her own personal perilous position, she just lets her art take over so what
we get is a timeless brilliant classic which is so much more of an amazing
legacy to her and those who died than any personalized or angled account
could ever have been. What real heroism to do this, what an achievement, to
rise about the fear and humiliation and write this wonderful work. And the
translation is fantastic just because we don't notice it specially. Sandra
Smith ( translators like editors are surely born to live in the shadows )
has done a fabulous job in not making the book seem at all foreign. There
are no jarring phrases and odd distracting foreignisms that often get in
the way of really enjoying a great work like this . Of course we are
reading Irene Nemirovsky but every word on the page is Smith's and they are
all beautifully chosen to match the lyricism of the original. This is one
of the most important books to emerge for years and, it sounds rather
plangent but a triumph of life and art over the forces of death and
ignorance.

Bonjour tristesse !
This novel bridges the divide between fact and fiction and as such is just my cup of tea. Irène Némirovsky, a successful Russian born novelist, was living in Paris at the start of the second world war - 1939. Although of Jewish parentage, she was in fact a Catholic, married and with two small children. By 1940 it was clear that France would be overthrown and Paris would be occupied by the Nazis. The Parisienne, and particularly the Jewish citizens of Paris, on hearing the guns of war outside their city, then proceeded by the thousands, to flee, and make for the rural communities of France hoping to avoid the wrath of the Nazis. In the case of the Jews, it was in order to save their lives. Némirovsky and her family fled to a small town in central France and she began to write the first of what she planned to be a series of four or five stories about the French experience during the war. She had completed her drafts of the first two of these, when she was discovered by the German SS and sent immediately to a concentration camp. Within a month, at the age of 39, she was executed. After a relatively short time her husband suffered the same fate. The children were taken by a friend and hidden from the Nazis for the duration of the war, and survived. They took their Mother's manuscript into hiding with them and some 60 years later, it was taken by Némirovsky's daughter, Denise Epstein to a publisher. It was published first in France, where it has already been very successful, and with a fine translation by Sandra Smith, now in English. The first of the two stories, "Storm in June" tells of the mass, panic exodus at the eleventh hour from Paris, where families, some of them used to a life of luxury, and most used to a degree of comfort and pleasure, were thrown into a situation where they had no control over their circumstances, and where real friends were distinguished from the fair-weather kind. Some of them found tolerable accommodation, some eventually returned to Paris, and some died under the guns of German fighter planes. The second story, is titled "Dolce" and it continues from the first in telling of life for the evacuees in a small rural village, occupied by German soldiers. Some of the French accommodated themselves to the soldiers and adapted a lifestyle in spite of them, some never accepted their presence, some resisted, some collaborated and some died. These are not great stories, but they are told with a sensitivity which could only come from the pen of a very good writer. Unfortunately, she never had the opportunity to review and polish them and the translator has faithfully translated leaving what errors there may be in place. There are two appendices in the book, the first containing the author's notes, the second contains her correspondence at the time. They add a considerable measure of poignancy to the stories, and in fact, I recommend that you read them first. It is a wonderful story, hailed in Europe as a French "Anne Frank". I heartily recommend it to you.