Annie Ernaux's "Simple Passion"

 

I really enjoyed the narrative of “Simple Passion”. It was frank and honest. Many times, when people speak or write about love or love affairs, they are not very candid. Ernaux mentions that she feels that writing should mirror “the impression conveyed by sexual intercourse, a feeling of anxiety and stupefaction, a suspension of moral judgement.” Yet, this is a tall order to fill. It seems as if people are constantly holding back their exact and perhaps indescribable feeling and thoughts. So how do you transform writing into something that evokes the same impressions as sex? Ernaux writes, “I do not wish to explain my passion- that would imply that it was a mistake or some disorder I need to justify- I just want to describe it.” Which she indeed does, but maybe this is a hurdle that many people can’t overcome.

It is easy for people to feel that their thoughts, urges, feelings, and actions- especially in retrospect- were ridiculously uncharacteristic of them and inexplicable. Reading “Simple Passion” made me think about how much better so many stories about love would be if we got to hear the gritty, tumultuous, real emotions of the characters. Not the pretty, “the smell of her hair”, “the color of his eyes”, “I think about him all the time”, “I dream about her every night” drab that is so present in most literature, but the true, unflattering and incomprehensible thoughts of people deep in love. But, I can’t help but wonder if people can ever really escape the face-saving behavior that prevents them from being completely honest with the thoughts and urges going on inside their head when they desire someone. This could be a part of the reason why people fear homosexuality and transexuality or any type of sexuality that isn’t the “norm”. The labels themselves are ways to explain away urges that people don’t want to come to terms with. If people were more honest and open with the complexities of their desires, they might find solidarity in it.

        Ernaux has showed that, as is true with many of the character we read about in class, desire is all consuming. It affected every aspect of her life. But the greatest thing that Ernaux’s story shows is that it was almost entirely self inflicted. I’m starting to think that desire is unlike love in that involves only the self; one single person interacts with the feelings (brought on by another person) within themselves. Yet, having love without desire is like having a car without gas.