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A Very Long Engagement
Sebastien Japrisot
Vintage/Random House 2003. Paperback, 313pp. RRP $16.99
As you might expect, when forearmed with the knowledge that the movie is about to be released to high acclaim, the publishing of this book in translation from the original French is a 'tied in' promotional vehicle. Originally published in 1991, this 1993 translation by Linda Coverdale has rendered a most attractive novel into a palatable form for a far greater audience. A question which might remain of the exercise, however, is whether the book or the associated movie is more likely to reap greater benefit.
This I cannot answer, having not yet seen the movie, which stars the alluring and insouciant Audrey Tautou as the heroine, Mathilde. I am sure that if the movie brings the same gentle condemnation of war to the screen as that which the written word engenders, then the cinematic version is likely to become something of a minor classic.
Language is something of a transient beast, insofar that different styles and approaches can be identified from time to time, and it can be possible to accurately place a work from the words used and the power and balance of the language and how it is employed. In the 1990s for instance, the chopped and detailed psychosis of Irvine Welch became de rigeur, yet only for a limited time. Prior to that, to further illustrate, the detailed and self-obsessed style of Brett Easton-Ellis served to illuminate a section of literature of interest to the self-absorbed. Both styles are now recognisably passe.
So why have I employed a history lesson in review of this book, a gentle enough tale of a woman who awaits (perhaps forever) the return of her betrothed from the carnage of the First World War? Simply because 'A Very Long Engagement' is written in the style of another era, perhaps most closely resembling that other passionate anti-war novel, Erich Maria Remarque's 'All Quiet On The Western Front'. I cannot help but feel that the resemblance is deliberate, and curiously, the writing is all the stronger for it.
Mathilde's struggle to understand the horror of the fate which befell her fiance, and her quest to find out the truth about five men convicted of cowardice, is explicitly and intriguingly sketched. Unlike Remarque's seminal work, this does not dwell overlong on detailed descriptions of life in the trenches, being set - in the main- but a few short years after the Armistice, but the opening chapters, when we are introduced to the five condemned men via slim characterisations, are exquisite.
As the story unfolds, and Mathilde draws ever closer to ultimate understanding, we are drawn in closer and closer to the characters. Is she being assisted or foiled in her attempts to uncover the truth? Is her quest a fool's errand? To put it simply, this is a lovely novel, because we are drawn to the tale, and to care for the outcome.
Alex Wheaton

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