This very short book - 112 p. - was very interesting about a 15-16 year old girl in uncomfortable relationship with her parents and a close friend. There is no conclusion, yet I found it gripping throughout. ( )

C’est l’été avant l’entrée d’Anne au lycée. Les vacances s’éternisent, Anne s’ennuie. Les copines peu intéressantes, les parents qu’elle ne supporte plus, les garçons qui l’attirent, une première fois insatisfaisante… Dans un style oral, reproduisant le discours intérieur de l’adolescente, avec ses redites et ses pensées hachées ou divaguantes, son vocabulaire argotique ou populaire, l’autrice évoque le mal-être et les errements de cet âge, l’espoir de changer de milieu social, la découverte du désir et la complexité des relations humaines. ( )

The Publisher Says: Originally published in 1977, Do What They Say or Else is the second novel by French author Annie Ernaux. Set in a small town in Normandy, France, the novel tells the story of a fifteen-year-old girl named Anne, who lives with her working-class parents. The story, which takes place during the summer and fall of Anne’s transition from middle school to high school, is narrated in a stream-of-consciousness style from her point of view. Ernaux captures Anne’s adolescent voice, through which she expresses her keen observations in a highly colloquial style.

As the novel progresses, and Anne’s feelings about her parents, her education, and her sexual encounters evolve, she grows into a more mature but also more conflicted and unhappy character, leaving behind the innocence of her middle school years. Not only must she navigate the often-confusing signals she receives from boys, but she also finds herself moving further and further away from her parents as she surpasses their educational level and worldview.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.

My Review: In this early and seemingly often overlooked entry into Nobel Laureate Ernaux's œuvre, I found a lot to wonder about. I think the entirety of an author's career is often set by the earliest works, either in action or reaction. In this case, Author Ernaux never moved her focus away from her Self, her essential project becoming refining and redacting and recalibrating the instrument of her creativity as she maintained a solid lock on what she knew best.

A woman writing in a cultural space wherein a man's wife is "sa femme"..."his woman"...is going to see her sex as a defining quality. Author Ernaux's fifteen-year-old protagonist, Anne, is...bewildered. She's reading The Stranger, and thinking of how she would create her own feminine take on the subject...teenagers and fanfiction go back a long, long way, but I am really hard-pressed to see how Meursault could be portrayed as female...she's trying to interpret her male cohort's weird, contradictory actions and words, she's trying to find some context into which her parents, the eternal enemies of our self-defining selves, fit recognizably. In short, she's fifteen.

Mme Ernaux delves into this maelstrom of bewildered and beleaguered self-ness with refreshing honesty, in that she doesn't overlay an adult's re-vision of the whole horrible mishegas of being fifteen. What happens as a result...keeping in mind the author was thirty-seven when the book came out...is what I'd call a sociology of adolescent femaleness in flux. Everything, necessarily, is related to Anne's Self in this book, since the project adolescents are engaged in is defining the Self in opposition to some Other, "I AM this" requiring "therefore I am NOT that," or it loses its solidity. It's Anne's frustratingly true-to-life Self-formation that makes me want to scream at the pages. I am not an adolescent and haven't been in a good long time. I do want to restate, though, that Anne is involved in the central project of adolescence and therefore gets her space to create only as and when afforded it. My adult(ish) male impatience is directed at my memories of the emotional devastation of the project on me, as called forth whole and entire from my own adolescence.

This is how one knows Author Ernaux was wise to stick to her focus, set so early in her writing career. A journeyman effort, decades old, brings an experienced reader into a powerfully emotional state by evoking uncertainty and angst and confusion.

The translators of this edition are to be lauded for their near-invisible work. The separate phrases are impressively wrought, the cumulative effect that Author Ernaux's writing is famous for is never out of their view:

Céline is going out with a guy from our high school, a junior. He's waiting to meet her at four o'clock on the corner next to the post office. At least it's clear what her secret is. If I was her I wouldn't even hide it. But the person who I am has no shape. Just thinking about it makes me feel heavy, like a real fatso. I'd like to sleep until a time when I could understand myself better—maybe when I'm eighteen or twenty-one. There must come a day when everything is clear, when everything falls into place.

The act of self-definition's agonies are limpidly clear. The course Anne will take is set. The problems are already present and the solutions are, to her, as yet unknowable. By the end of this under-150-page story, she's not clear but she knows clarity exists:

I have nothing to say about the topic the teacher gave us, just disordered thoughts. If I let myself go, I'd write about whatever I wanted, I would write about blood and cries, and there would be a red dress too, and jeans. People don't suspect the importance of clothes in what happens to us. And there would be meals in the kitchen. My father would say something he had heard somewhere, and my mother would stretch out a tired leg. I would write about anything, as long as it made a tight knot around me.

That evergreen of young life, the "come-here-go-away" approach avoidance dance! It's never more than that, though. This is an early work, and as such lacks some of the whole-brain fineness of resolution that would, eg I Remain in Darkness (an account of her mother's descent into Alzheimer's), Getting Lost (the diary of a passionate love affair she had with a married man), characterize the more recent work from her pen. None of it is ever less than personal. None of it is ever less than brutal, honestly, in it effects on the unsuspecting. But it all became more deft, less observational and intellectual, as her métier became her mind.

Starting here, with a teenaged girl's life still inchoate but sensed and sought within her mind and life, will ground you in the enormous pleasures to come. I think anyone who reads an Ernaux story and doesn't want more is simply and sadly missing out. ( )

Le livre s'ouvre sur ces mots : "Parfois j'ai l'impression d'avoir des secrets. Ce ne sont pas des secrets puisque je n'ai pas envie d'en parler et aussi bien ces choses-là ne peuvent pas se dire à personne, trop bizarre".

Publié en 1977 (après Les Armoires vides), Ce qu'ils disent ou rien est le deuxième roman d'Annie Ernaux.

C'est le monologue de quelque 150 pages de la jeune Anne de 15 ans qui s'ennuie ferme dans son pavillon de banlieue, auprès de parents qu'elle ne supporte plus. C'est l'été, elle vient de réussir son BEPC (une fierté, à l'époque) et elle en a marre de tout. Elle voudrait échapper au quotidien, à ses parents qui parlent pour ne rien dire (et surtout à sa mère dont elle se sent constamment épiée), à ses "amies" qui n'en sont pas, à son enfance qui n'a que trop duré. Bref, en digne adolescente de 15 ans, elle attend d'être chavirée et sent plus ou moins confusément que ce sera à travers la sexualité et la découverte des garçons qu'elle y arrivera.

Ponctuation et syntaxe assez hasardeuses pour ne pas brider ou freiner les idées qui passent dans la tête d'Anne : l'écriture de ce monologue intérieur est réussie. On y retrouve la véracité de la langue telle qu'on la parlait encore à la mi-temps du 20e siècle, et plus particulièrement en Normandie, l'audace que donne la volonté sincère de l'introspection, dénuée de la peur de gratter ses plaies et en faisant au contraire le choix d'exposer ce qui dérange et de que l'on a pour habitude de cacher.

C'est troublant, cette capacité qu'a cette auteure de restituer tant de verbiage insipide (qui ne manque pas de convoquer des voix qu'on avait nous-mêmes oubliées), ces habitudes d'une existence étriquée où l'on n'est jamais soi-même à force d'essayer de coller à ce qui est "convenable", tous ces désirs contradictoires, inextricables, forcément inassouvis car flottant sans cesse entre attirance folle et répulsion.

Ce n'est pas le livre le plus impressionnant d'Annie Ernaux mais sûr qu'il détient déjà en germe les superbes textes qu'elle publiera plus tard.

Extrait :
« Il est devenu triste d'un seul coup, il a fermé les yeux, tu peux pas savoir ce que tout me fait chier. J'ai essayé de savoir pourquoi, bien que j'en ai moi-même trop marre de tout pour m'embarrasser de lui. C'était décousu, les parents, le boulot, il répétait tout ça c'est con. peut-être qu'on avait des points communs lui et moi, mais question langage, ça tournait court, je lui ai demandé s'il s'intéressait à la politique, qu'est-ce que tu lis comme canard, oh dis tu vas pas devenir chiante, ça ne lui a pas plu que je lui parle de trucs qu'il ne connaissait pas, je répétais ce que m'avait expliqué Mathieu, mais il était pas au courant. J'ai bien remarqué que les garçons n'aiment pas qu'on fasse leur éducation. » ( )

In her most recent book, Mémoire de fille (2016), Ernaux tells us that she hadn't previously been able to face writing about herself as a teenager - that was a slightly disingenuous statement, it turns out: this, her second novel, published forty years before Mémoire de fille, is quite simply a fictional treatment of the same events, rearranged, compressed in time, and thinly disguised. The narrator, Anne (!), is 15, wishing that she could just wake up one morning married with two children and a not-too-bad-job, skipping all this painful in-between stage of growing up - haven't we all wished that at some point? She has just passed her BEPC exam, and faces a summer of idleness before starting at her new school in September. Of course, she's burning with curiosity about sex, and item number one on the plans for the holiday period is to lose her virginity. And of course she does, and the results are not very satisfactory: even in these enlightened 1950s, it seems that boys still get to crow over their successes and girls still have to face humiliation and embarrassment...

This is no more a romantic "first love" story than Mémoire de fille is - in fact, Ernaux in her thirties seems to convey the frustration and anger of the teenager even more powerfully than she does in her more detached and analytical seventies. And as always, it's a pleasure to listen to her narrative voice, cleverly manipulating the teenage slang of the period and the clichés of the older generation to devastating effect. ( )