Do you think that love can indeed be murder? Please think about it for a minute, before reading this article. When you have your answer, start reading. Then, when you're done reading, think about it again for a minute. Can love be murder?
Close your eyes for ten seconds. Now.
You can’t read anymore, can you? Keep them open, then.
I’ll tell you a story.
You and your partner have just had children. The oldest one’s 4, and the youngest is 2. As much as you love them and would be ready to sacrifice your life for theirs, you want to rest. You want to rediscover your partner, like in the years where you were just the two of you. You want time.
A few kilometers away is Louise, an old lady whose greatest desire is to give some of her time for babies she would have liked to raise. She doesn’t like her daughter. It happens, I guess. Yet, she would have liked her to remain a baby for her entire life.
This seems to be the perfect match. You invite Louise to dinner, and she seems to know your baby even more than you do. You turn to your partner, and passion seems to come back again.
Louise is there for them, every minute, of every hour, of every lonely night.
You like it more and more, and you more frequently go out with your partner, because Louise is taken care of your children.
She becomes part of your family. She arrives every day a bit earlier than the previous, until you come to believe that she almost sleeps here. Louise even comes on vacation with you. She is part of the family.
With the absolute sweetness she displays grows the feeling of entrapment. Louise loves the children so much that she bases her whole life on making others live theirs. You understand that Louise’s influence is growing too much, and want this to cease. You nevertheless don’t understand that you destroyed the sole pillar she built her whole palace on. A few days before she would have had to leave, Louise goes to the kitchen, drinks a large glass of wine, and takes a large knife out of the drawer. Children, come! We’re about to have a bath! A few hours later, the officer looks at you with life-deprived eyes, and says “Le bébé est mort.”
Chanson douce is a novel that I enjoyed as much as it moved me. Leila Slimani displays the incredible power of being able to depict scenes of a great quietness, whilst setting up scenes of an extreme violence right after, with an almost absent transition. Structure and construction of the novel are used for the purpose of keeping the reader into the story. What made me properly see the effects of the author’s success was the breaks I sometimes had to allow myself due to the incredible flow of emotions that were brought to me. Between the times of extreme passion between the nanny and the children, as well as those where you rightfully see the relentless commitment for the parents’ wellbeing, and the ones where Louise expresses her major disappointment through the violence she makes the children undergo through, your feelings are surely badly treated. Structure and literary devices are for sure extremely well used.
The first chapter of the book is anachronistic. It's the actual end of the story, and of this family's life. The first sentence of the book is "Le bébé est mort." Then, you will see how the story culminates towards the ultimate murder. And what is surely most sadistic, is the fact that you know, in all of Louise's ambigous moments with the children, the intentions she always keeps as a background. All the hugs and all the kisses and all the whispers, are marks of Louise's growing deadly influence.
On top of that, we shall mention how what she depicts actually has a much larger symbolic meaning. Indeed, she sometimes use puns to insert very strong messages in a longer paragraph. The paronomasia which marked me the most was when Louise reveals that her only “pillar” is actually that of Myriam’s family, that her whole life now relies on them. This of course allows the reader to foresee what is about to happen, but, what is more, it presents as a maxim. Sadly, I can’t find the exact quote anymore, neither in my book, nor on the internet. It’s for sure one of these quotes you remark but fail to mark down. Leila Slimani really wants to give a general aspect to her book, and she seems to aims at universality.
Chanson douce, which you’ll find as The perfect
Nanny in English, is surely a book which taught me a lot, thanks to L. Slimani’s
mastering of suspense and attempt to produce maxim-like assertions. By the way, did you know that it's a Goncourt winner?
To finish my “review”, here are a few quotes I found inspiring:
« Elle a l'intime conviction à présent, la conviction brûlante et douloureuse que son bonheur leur appartient. Qu'elle est à eux et qu'ils sont à elle. »
« Louise est un soldat. Elle avance, coûte que coûte, comme une bête, comme un chien à qui de méchants enfants auraient brisé les pattes. »
« On lui a toujours dit que les
enfants n'étaient qu'un bonheur éphémère, une vision furtive, une impatience.
Une éternelle métamorphose. »
The book's been turned into a movie, which I have not seen yet, but which I'd love to. If you go and watch it, please tell me what you thought of it, as I'd really appreciate you have your feedback on it. Click on the banner below to open the movie trailer.
And now, dear reader, what do you think? Can love be murder?
Take care, Charlie.
And see you soon,
Toàn
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