“Loved and Missed” by Susie Boyt, translated from English by Stéphane Vanderhaeghe, La Croisée, 240 p., €22, digital €15.
We close Missed loves in a mixture of wonder at the splendor of this book and gratitude to the author for the power of the emotions she conveys. Tormented by a question, too: how is it possible that the seventh novel by the British Susie Boyt is the first to be translated into French? The writer demonstrates admirable literary know-how and knowledge of the human heart. The authentic sobs she provokes in the reader are due to the very restraint of the entire story.
This restraint is that of Ruth, a courageous, sarcastic, solitary woman. After her drug-addicted daughter, Eleanor, gives birth to Lily, Ruth manages to keep the child with her and raise her, living in a permanent double fear: that of the day when Eleanor wants to take Lily back and that of Eleanor’s death. This fear hovers over the story without ever being clearly formulated by Ruth. Generally speaking, the narrator is careful not to put words too precisely on things, and in particular on the condition of her daughter (she excels, on the other hand, at pointing out her own errors and faults). Not that she is blind to her face. But not to speak of” needle “d’“heroine” or of« overdose »not freezing Eleanor’s state through language is his way of loving her.
From the office of her London apartment where she gives an interview to « World of books »Susie Boyt recalls how the beginnings of the novel came to her. “The year my mother died, I couldn’t bear the thought of spending Christmas in London as usual, so I went with my husband and daughters to Miami – how unwell I must be! On the evening of December 24th, we went to the cinema, and as we were leaving, we came across a big pink monument, which turned out to be a church specializing in mental health problems. As we went in, we saw people who were clearly drunk or drugged. I remember two little girls in synthetic coats right next to big swaying candles; I kept an eye on them as I listened to the sermon, which was about grief, which was perfect for me. There was empathy in the place but also a menacing atmosphere. I wanted a book with strong currents of love running through it, but a love that was insufficient, ineffective.” This moment in particular inspired the chapter on Lily’s baptism, where everyone, including the priest, tries to put on a brave face, and which culminates in the moment where Ruth takes Lily away from her parents, both devilishly Dickensian and remarkably theatrical.
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