Reading
Louise’s post provoked many thoughts in my mind and watching the YouTube video
she posted only deepened my thoughts on the matter of the soldiers on either
side of the war being only young boys.
They have families and loved ones, and I thought it was quite beautiful
how Louise described war as being composed of a bunch of victims, the soldiers
themselves, who together form this idea of a monstrous entity. In actuality however, all these soldiers are
only human. It is an incredibly sad
realization because while the YouTube video did make me incredibly happy, as
soon as it was over, I only felt sad because you know that the friendships you
saw formed on Christmas were only going to be destroyed as soon as the bullets
started flying.
In Chapter 23, Monsieur Pericand
wakes up quite alone in his room where his family has accidently left him, but
in the midst of this horrible situation, I find what I think to be the happiest
line in the entire novel thus far. The
narrator explains that in that moment Monsieur Pericand “had forgotten the
journey, the Germans, the war. He
thought he was at his son’s home in Boulevard Delessert, even though he was
staring at a strange room; he didn’t understand a thing” (121). What a gift.
In the midst of chaos, destruction, death, and abandonment to not
understand a thing and to forget seems to be quite a gift. It’s a moment of pure ignorance and bliss,
and I can’t imagine there were too many of these moments during World War II
because while the YouTube video is very beautiful the reality of it actually
happening remains unlikely.
I feel as though this line is an
intentional act on the part of Némirovsky to engage the reader even further
into the atrocities of war because while it is a peaceful moment the reader can
anticipate the dropping feeling in his stomach that Monsier Pericand is about
to feel when he realizes he is utterly alone.
It makes the reality of his situation even more real and
unbearable. It highlights the atrocities
of war.
Beautifully put. That brief moment is one of what Sartre would have called "privileged moments," such as Mme Michaud and the white butterfly, when an ordinary incident of daily life is captured as a precious link in life's passing. In Sartre's novels (such as _The Nausea_), the "privileged moment" occurs when the protagonist hears a certain song sung by an American jazz singer. Then time stands still and joy floods the mind. Until it ends. In Nemirovsky's understated prose we are free to use our imagination to fill in the intensity of feeling, or remain detached, as she does, and watch it evaporate a minute later.
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