I didn’t expect to feel very much while reading Françoise Sagan’s Bonjour Tristesse, but I did. I felt frustration both with and for the characters throughout most of the novel; I felt confusion and curiosity with each change of Cécile’s feelings towards Anne; and by the end, I mainly felt something like pity for Cécile and Raymond (although I’m not entirely sure that pity is what they deserve). In fact, perhaps appropriately, I would say that I ended up doing much more feeling than thinking as I read.

One aspect of the novel that I did find myself thinking about was the translation from French into English – especially the lack thereof that we see in the title. In our lecture on Sagan, it is mentioned that there could be something untranslatable or very culturally specific about the term “tristesse,” and I would say that this idea makes sense. I also think that the limitation of our understanding in one area could expand it in another: maybe we can’t grasp the exact weight of “tristesse,” but we can still feel something when we read it, and maybe in that way we can come closer to recognizing the author’s intention.

Something else in this novel that interested me is Sagan’s portrayal of desire. While most of the characters seem to have an active desire for one thing or another – a relationship, an experience – Cécile’s feelings of desire struck me as very passive: she wants to get rid of Anne, but her commitment to the scheme is inconsistent; she wants to be with Cyril, but not enough to do much of anything about it. I found it hard to tell whether Cécile’s behaviour comes more from uncertainty or from a general lack of interest in anything remotely deep.

What stood out to me about the end of the novel is how Cécile and Anne sort of switch roles: Anne acts spontaneously and emotionally by driving away – off of a cliff – in reaction to Raymond’s infidelity, and Cécile is finally forced to reflect on the weight of her actions as she attempts to stop everything from falling apart. Still, considering how quickly Cécile and Raymond appear to move on from Anne’s death, can it be said that Cécile has experienced any real growth by the end? Is the welcoming of sorrow a sign of emotional maturity, or only a symptom of one who chooses again and again to lead a careless life?