Exteriors, by Annie Ernaux: A Review

Assessing a Nobel Prize Laureate's Novels (Series 1, Article 1)

idealisk - i sitt slag fulländad; fullkomlig; som kan tjäna till mönster

ideal - in its kind perfect; perfect; that can serve as an [ideal] pattern

Photo by Ivan Ragozin on Unsplash

(I realize that I am forever combing reality for signs of literature)
- Annie Ernaux, Exteriors

Welcome, ladies and gents, to the first of my series’ exploring the work of Nobel Prize Laureates. Starting with the most recent winner (at the time of writing), French author Annie Ernaux. While some literati with strong opinions about the Nobel Prize may object to me giving them more attention than they will ever want, the at-times controversial existence of the Nobel Prize - some of it pointless to begin with - will never truly be settled without a thorough assessment of the winners.

In addition to this series, I will add a couple supplementary essays while also reviewing their Nobel Speech and ending with a “did he/she deserve the prize?” finale. As certain works in translation are not yet published, however, one should treat this literary odyssey with patience when it comes to the big picture. This often happens with Nobel Laureates: translations not yet in English are rushed and/or prioritized so that the publishers can benefit from sales. (Naturally, I can only review those books in English, so sorry in advance to original language readers hoping for reviews of untranslated stuff)

The most common complaint I get about the Nobel tends to have to do with personal preference: “why did this author get the Nobel, and not this other great writer?” This is ultimately as fruitless as wondering what would happen if we could kill baby Hitler, since we can’t kill baby Hitler. (Which, by the way, is an abhorrently infanticidal question) It makes much more sense to ask: “are those authors who did win the Nobel deserving of such a great prize based upon the criteria?”

So with that in mind, let us begin!

Did I know about Ernaux before the announcement of the award? I confess I did not, except for hearing her name once or twice in passing. But when I did manage to get ahold of a book after her award ceremony, it was her 1993 diary Exteriors. Without a title in mind, my choice was completely dependent on which book I could find first. Which is a safer book-buying approach with Nobel Laureates than non-Nobel Laureates, is it not? If they are deserving of their prize, then any book I choose will be a safe choice, right? (Unless, of course, the prize is given for a specific work, rather than the entire oeuvre; an example being William Golding, who won the prize in 1982 on the strength of his Booker-winning novel, Rites of Passage) I’ll return to that question at the end of this series.

On the whole, there isn’t a lot to say about Exteriors. It is a short diary of Ernaux’s suburban home of Cergy-Pontoise, a new town suburb that was brand new in the 70s when Ernaux moved out there. (And where she, apparently, decided to stay) It is a collection of observances that on one hand can be collected by anybody; but that, on the other hand, reflect that ability to see the unseen that defines numerous writers.

This small and slim book can fit in your pocket. Making it incredibly ideal for reading in the environment from which it largely came: public transportation, and Franprix France. This is not the Paris of Hemingway. If a supermarket gets in the way of Hausmannian beauty when you’re gallivanting around Paris, Exteriors is a book one can read if eyesores obstruct the view from your chosen cafe. (And you’re willing to pay for an overpriced copy at Shakespeare and Co beforehand)

In the beginning, Ernaux writes that her diary is “an attempt to convey the reality of an epoch.” As the title implies, Exteriors is outwardly-focused; as a result - like a photographer, in her words - the author manages to remove herself from the exterior environment. Not a complete subtraction. But like the old technique of protecting oneself from an earthquake - standing in a doorway - Ernaux is neither in the exterior nor is she in the interior. She tried, I feel, too hard to exit her own work, robbing it of emotional resonance in the process. Though it’s also quite possible that this era of French history doesn’t really have a lot of emotional resonance to begin with.

The only references that indicate any stronger subjectivity on the author’s part are a few references indicating a feminist bent. While casual observations of the reaction to her Nobel and some of her previous novels suggest her work is defined by her womanhood - something that, naturally, makes her ripe for ideological plucking as it does every woman author with womanhood as her focus - those few references are not enough to suggest any larger scale of ideological infusion as of yet.

In fact, Exteriors is refreshing - albeit minimally, due to the aforementioned absence of persona, apart from her eyes - in that she allows actions to speak for themselves. An approach that - having myself lived in Paris for a year - is one of the more authentic approaches to making sense of Paris.

To a degree, anyway. When considering Paris in its greater context, Exteriors does feel at times like we are electricians reviewing the wiring of a building, rather than the building itself. Not that Ernaux ever had the goal of becoming the next great Paris writer: I can’t say. But it’s worth noting for Anglo readers who, with their romantic love of Paris, might develop misconceptions about what to expect. Especially given the strongly Parisian settings of the French Nobel Laureate preceding Ernaux, Patrick Modiano.

The greatest thing we get from Exteriors is this one quote: “I realize that I am forever combing reality for signs of literature.”

It is a beautiful quote that, I felt, informed me about Ernaux’s literary mission briefly and succinctly but memorably. So succinctly, in fact, that were I to forget this exact quote the understanding itself would remain. Its perspective of literature as something Ernaux turns on its head is also worth noting. (as much as I detest descriptions that condescend to the reader like “turned [insert thing] on its head.” Especially from academics. We’re talking about books here, not Romanian gymnasts.)

While I give Exteriors a 3.5 Star rating (I agree with Goodreads on this one) it was worth reading for that quote alone. Though if you want to save time in this hectic world, you can always just subscribe to Timeless below, place this quote in your notes collection and skip this book. As long as you don’t mind that I don’t have a Nobel Prize. 😁

In terms of my oeuvre categorization, I place Exteriors in the following category, which currently stands as follows (and that I will likely change as this odyssey goes on):

1. To be added to your must-read list: (TBD)

2. Unnecessary except for fans and completionists: (TBD)

3. Just pretend it doesn’t exist: (TBD)

4. Optional, yet supplementary in some form: Exteriors

By providing a geographic and spatial context to Ernaux’s other novels, Exteriors is worth adding to category number 4 for that reason. But I wouldn’t include it on a must-read list anytime soon. (And the more research I do into Ernaux, the more marginal this book seems to be)

At this early stage, it is difficult to predict how much it stands apart in Ernaux’s oeuvre. But so far - luckily for me - it is a safe first book. I will end with a short observation from Exteriors that gives a sense of her authorial perspective, and that I felt worth preserving in this odyssey:

“In a Metro carriage, a boy and a girl argue and stroke each other, alternately, as if they were alone in the world. But they know that’s not true: every now and then they stare insolently at the other passengers. My heart sinks. I tell myself that this is what writing is for me.”

Felix Purat writes Timeless - With Felix Purat where the Annie Ernaux series will continue.