Chapters 28 and 29 seem to show great antithesis between the
Michauds and Charles Langelet. We already know that they belong to different
classes, with Monsieur Langelet being part of the higher class. Then Irène
Némirovsky takes us through their returns to their apartments after the exodus.
The Michauds are happy to be back in their apartment because of the
memories it brings back, but Langelet is only happy to be “reunited with all
his wonderful possessions” (180).
Némirovsky gives us a glimpse
into Charles Langelet’s mind: “He loved nothing, at least nothing that time
could distort, that death could carry away; he’d been right not to have
married, not to have had children…My God everyone else had been taken in. He’d
been the only clever one” (181-182). In a strange and twisted way, this
argument makes sense. Langelet returns to his possessions and is completely
content with his life, but the Michauds, particularly Jeanne, come home to
memories of their beloved son that may or may not be alive. However, it is not
human nature to want to be alone and we as people tend to desire the company of
others. Though the Michauds are going through a difficult time, the have each
other to lean on: “They continued arguing, not because they hoped or even
wished to win the other over, but because talking helped them forget their
painful problems” (178).
As we have discussed, Némirovsky tends to
favor the working class over the upper or upper middle class. By the end of the
first book of the novel, Langelet is dead and the Michauds find out that their
son is alive. So in the end, the good people come out on top.
Very good, Alejandra. In rereading these chapters for today's class, I was also struck by the comment on how being busy fighting with the bureaucracy or dealing with ordinary material concerns can help take one's mind off sadness. When the Michauds win out over Corbin, it is almost a letdown because their minds will no longer be occupied with that more pleasant task than the horrible torture of worry: "They were very happy with the outcome but sensed that now that their money worries were off their minds, at least for the immediate future, they would be completely overwhelmed by their anguish over their son" (179). I found this to be a wise commentary on how our minds work in a time of sadness. (At least for those of us who love other people, and thus suffer when our loved ones suffer.) As you said, Langelet's decadent philosophy makes a certain sense: a cold-hearted, cynical logic, but a logic nonetheless.
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