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Our Assessment:
B : all passion and fervor, for better and worse See our review for fuller assessment.
From the Reviews: - Return to top of the page - The complete review's Review: Published as They Say Sarah in the US, the UK edition of Pauline Delabroy-Allard's novel is All About Sarah. In some ways, it's more fitting: "All about Sarah" becomes a repeated refrain in the novel -- as in one chapter that reads, in its entirety: It's all about that, it's all about Sarah the unknown woman. Sarah the honorable maiden, Sarah the prudent lady, Sarah the extravagant woman, Sarah the bizarre woman. Sarah the lone woman.Yet They Say Sarah is more a novel of obsession than simply about this Sarah. For one, Sarah is both the object of obsession as well as obsessive herself: the obsession is mutual. For another, the people involved don't really rise above being objects of desire -- abstractions, almost. The personal, beyond the passion, hardly registers in the narrator's account -- beginning with her own name. The narrator is a young woman just starting out as a schoolteacher. The man in her life abruptly left her -- "overnight, and I mean literally overnight" -- and while he was soon replaced by: "a new boy in my life, a Bulgarian boy", this follow-up is barely even evanescence incarnate, out of sight and mind (the narrator's as well as the reader's) practically as soon as he's been mentioned. The narrator has a young daughter, but she too barely even rates as incidental: generally referred to (and, implicitly, dismissed as) simply 'the child', she's the occasional prop, but readily placed or kept out of the way when necessary. Some acquaintances are introduced by name, but on the whole the figures, including the central ones, remain loose outlines, types more than fully fleshed-out characters. Not that Sarah and the narrator aren't presented as full-blooded -- but they aren't presented as much more than that. They Say Sarah is a breathless account, almost all passion, heat, and desperation. The first of the two parts of the novel covers eighty-two chapters, squeezed into fewer pages than that. It chronicles a new friendship that evolves with deceptive ease into a love-affair: "Sarah settles in, settles into my life, calmly, in no rush". Sarah is a violinist, and often travels throughout Europe (and eventually also to Japan); she is, in general, a flighty soul: early on already there's a scene where: She's never ready. She says she can't choose, it's a problem, in life. She wants everything and nothing.Eventually, unsurprisingly, this will become a bit much to take for the narrator: She doesn't understand that I'm exhausted by this life she's offering me, this life that goes far too quickly but to which she won't completely commit, exhausted by her instability, her uncertainty, her abandoning me and her tantrums, exhausted by her princessy whims.The danger of describing such an affair is, of course, that the reader's patience will wear thin, but in keeping things moving, and keeping things fairly short, Delabroy-Allard mostly avoids that; They Say Sarah is somewhat exhausting in its breathlessness, but mostly avoids becoming tiresome. The extremes -- and this is a book that seems composed almost entirely of extremes, with just the briefest of lulls -- can be wearing, but there are enough variations on the theme that things keep moving, in various directions. The relationship doesn't exactly flame out, at least not in the way one might expect. An initial break finds the narrator torn: "She's exhausting, but I'm dying without her"; the second part of the novel finds her having to deal with a complete rupture -- and if she had trouble coming to grips with Sarah and her primal feelings for her while they were a couple that's almost nothing compared to what happens when Sarah is all absence. The narrator flees abroad, to a friend's in Milan and then to Trieste. 'The child' is left behind -- "I'm going to have to leave her. I'm going to go. Without her. As far away as possible" -- but the narrator's attempted escape from all ties and reminders doesn't get her very far. If anything, physical distance only leaves her flailing even more help- and hope-lessly about. Her obsessive passion continues to drown out almost anything else; she is, and remains, a wreck. Delabroy-Allard goes all-in with obsession in this tale of mutual passion. She does this quite well, as far as it goes -- but of course this sort of thing can only go so far. There's practically no substance to the characters themselves - - they're all white-glow heat rather than actual flesh and personality -- which makes for an odd disconnect: the main appeal of They Say Sarah boils down to its language and attempt to capture a state of mind, rather than the mind and anything beyond that itself. Pitched at extremes, there is some appeal to the sheer intensity of Delabroy-Allard's account -- though the language occasionally veers off course too (the narrator: "so drunk that my teeth are black from wine" seems ... hard to picture, and extremely unlikely). A whirlwind, effervescent fiction, They Say Sarah is all surface heat, dissipating far too easily as soon as it is finished and put away, a fine performance on the page but not making much of an impression beyond it. - M.A.Orthofer, 1 July 2020 - Return to top of the page - They Say Sarah:
- Return to top of the page - French author Pauline Delabroy-Allard was born in 1988. - Return to top of the page -
© 2020-2021 the complete review
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