MARIE DARRIEUSSECQ
Marie Darrieussecq’s first book, Pig Tales, became an overnight sensation and bestseller, selling more than 300,000 copies and translated into more than thirty languages—since then, she has gone on to publish twenty more, including Being Here Is Everything, a literary investigation into the life of the artist Paula Modersohn-Becker, and the novels Men, The Baby, Our Life in the Forest, and, most recently, How to Make a Woman. The New Yorker described her as France’s “best young novelist,” and she is recognized as one of the leading voices of French contemporary literature. Her novel Men was awarded the Prix Médicis and the Prix des Prix in 2013.
titles by MARIE DARRIEUSSECQ
Marie Darrieussecq
Translated from the French by Penny Hueston
An electrifying double narrative about young women’s lives and desires, from a leading voice of French contemporary literature.
It is—to start—the 1980s, in a small village in the French Basque Country. Rose and Solange are fifteen and have shared much of their childhood; only now Solange is pregnant.
A novel in two irreducible parts, How to Make a Woman narrates, in Marie Darrieussecq’s relentless prose, the coming-of-age of two young women. Rose enters university in Bordeaux to study psychology, maintaining a relationship with her childhood sweetheart (with whom she is equivocally in love); Solange shakes off old attachments to pursue a life on the stage and in pulsing city centers.
In Bordeaux, Paris, and London, as they pass in and out of each other’s lives, each makes use of, and makes, the other in this bold new novel—brutal, exuberant, and radical—about “what is done to women in the world.”
Marie Darrieussecq
Translated from the French by Penny Hueston
In this darkly funny novel crossing the dystopian visions of Helen DeWitt and Kazuo Ishiguro, a woman writes from a forest encampment at the end of the world
I opened my eye and BANG, everything came into focus.
In the near future, our woman in the forest is nearing the end. She’s down an eye and a kidney; she’s lost the use of one hand; she knows she won’t have time to reread what she writes here. Her other half, Marie (a.k.a. Sissy)—around whom our narrator has unwisely constructed her identity, and whom she sacrificed a great deal to set free—is an idiot: deeply incurious, barely ambulatory, and horny. It’s hardly Marie’s fault (she’s a clone). But our half was hoping for more.
In a torrential narrative, with asides for barking laughter, our woman in the forest casts her single roving eye across the opaque mechanisms of their shared past and the strange world that made them (one that is nevertheless familiar in its vices)—driven to understand and communicate, in writing, her conditional personhood. Our Life in the Forest is an unrelenting novel about complicity, love, and the failing body: an irreverent and deeply compelling addition to the female apocalyptic tradition.
