Last week, I had the privilege of attending a book signing of (and reading by!) Deborah Levy for her new book! I had previously read two of her three part memoir, but fell in love with her writing when reading her introduction to Simone de Beauvoir’s The Inseparables earlier this year. Still, I wanted to familiarize myself with more of her work, her work of fiction specifically, before hearing her speak. And so, I picked up her 2011 novella, Swimming Home.
The novel is set on the French Riviera, the story revolves around a dysfunctional group of characters and explores themes of love, loss, and mental illness. The narrative follows Joe Jacobs, a renowned poet, and his wife Isabel, a journalist, as they spend a summer vacation in a rented villa. Their idyllic getaway is disrupted when they meet Kitty. As the narrative progresses, the relationships between the characters become increasingly complex. Joe's mental state is deteriorating, haunted by his past and struggling with depression. Isabel, too, is emotionally distant, trying to navigate her own insecurities and dissatisfaction in her marriage. Kitty's presence in their lives acts as a catalyst, exposing the cracks in their relationships and forcing them to confront their inner demons. Her disruptive behavior and her fascination with Joe create tension and turmoil within the group. Kitty's mysterious and unpredictable nature keeps the readers guessing about her true intentions and background.
Swimming Home was a short read, though an incredibly dense and complex one, nonetheless. I was so glad to have picked it up when I did, not only because I then attended the book signing with an even bigger appreciation for the author, but also because it was exactly the kind of book I was craving as summer nears. Most of all, Swimming Home reminded me of two of my all time favorite summer reads, Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald and Bonjour Tristesse by Françoise Sagan. All three works are set on the French Riviera in the summertime, but uniquely grapple with human emotions and complex mental states, transporting readers to the opulent and tumultuous world of the characters, and the unraveling of their relationships.
Swimming Home resembles Tender is the Night more so than it does Bonjour Tristesse in terms of plot. But reading Swimming Home reminded me why I so enjoy reading Fitzgerald and Sagan’s works, and why they are my summer classics. Swimming Home might be the fresher, more modern version of Tender is the Night, but I cannot deny Fitzgerald’s ability to capture the vibrant and glamorous atmosphere of the 1920s French Riviera, and alternate between a sense of allure, decadence and a deeper undercurrent of disillusionment and emotional intensity. As always, he portrays a world of wealth, excess, and emotional turmoil - although it wouldn’t be Fitzgerald if the novel didn’t also reveal the hollowness behind the façade of it all! I also realized that I first read Tender is the Night in a similar setting and headspace than while I was reading Swimming Home. I first read Tender is the Night at this time of the year in 2018, while interning and anticipating summer, just as I read Swimming Home at the office of the same company I had interned for years prior, equally yearning for warmth in this year’s chilly Parisian spring. I was moved by the cyclicality, synchronicity and (dare I say!) fate of it all!
I have an average memory, and so I generally remember vague overarching plotlines of what I read (especially if years have passed); and tend to hold onto a book’s atmospheric quality, and how it made me feel, over specifics. In the “full circle” leap of it all, I decided to revisit Tender is the Night, which made me realize that I was probably too young to really get it when I read it for the first time at the age of nineteen. Today, at the ripe womanly age of twenty three, the work reads completely different! That is not to say that I won’t renew my view of it years from now. Tender is the Night was, after all, the last completed manuscript of Fitzgerald’s; the narrative is said to largely take from his life, the author is highly self-aware and the novel is perhaps an adult take on madness, mental health and relationships (compared to The Great Gatsby, for instance, which we could consider to be a more adolescent and feverish take on relationships and the mental states that spring from them).
But then we have Bonjour Tristesse, a work I revisit yearly without fail since reading it for the first time as a teen. To me, it is the ultimate female coming of age brat novella! The atmosphere is sensual, provocative, and tinted with a sense of recklessness and the consequences of impulsive actions. The novella captures the carefree and indulgent atmosphere of the French Riviera in the 1950s, portraying a world of hedonism and youthful rebellion. As I said, Bonjour Tristesse is different from Swimming Home and its melancholic, introspective, at times even claustrophobic atmosphere. In Swimming Home a sense of impending tension and dysfunction looms, which contrasts with the visually idyllic vacation setting. While in Bonjour Tristesse, the Mediterranean breeze, the warm rays of sunshine, and lyrical boredom accompany the emotional turbulence of seemingly never ending summers of teenhood, the kind of summers that are impactful only retrospectively.
Despite sharing the French Riviera as a backdrop and being beloved by me, each of these novels have a distinct atmospheric quality. Having read Fitzgerald and Sagan’s works at impressionable ages, they mean the world to me for forever informing the kind of literature I love and seek out. And while I love having them as staples in my summer reading rotation, Swimming Home is a fantastic addition for a darker, mysterious take on the Riviera summer read. Pick them up if you haven’t!
Until next week,
Franny