{"id":860,"date":"2026-07-09T12:07:32","date_gmt":"2026-07-09T12:07:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/cityrelocationnews.com\/?p=860"},"modified":"2026-07-09T12:07:32","modified_gmt":"2026-07-09T12:07:32","slug":"eric-rohmers-novel-elisabeth-is-a-precocious-literary-triumph","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/cityrelocationnews.com\/?p=860","title":{"rendered":"\u00c9ric Rohmer\u2019s Novel \u201c\u00c9lisabeth\u201d Is a Precocious Literary Triumph"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\u00c9ric Rohmer nearly had a career as a novelist, but that career didn\u2019t seem to want him. His literary ambition is on display in \u201c\u00c9lisabeth,\u201d his only novel, which is now appearing in English for the first time, in a translation by Aaron Kerner (McNally Editions). Rohmer started work on it in 1939, at the age of eighteen, and completed it in the summer of 1944. It was published by the prestigious Paris publishing house Gallimard in 1946, but sold poorly and received no reviews. Literature\u2019s loss was the cinema\u2019s gain: at the time that Rohmer completed the book, he had (according to the excellent biography of him by Antoine de Baecque and No\u00ebl Herpe) seen no more than \u201ca few dozen\u201d movies in his entire life; by the end of the nineteen-forties, he had become a passionate moviegoer, had published several of the most influential critical essays in the history of French cinema, was running a cin\u00e9-club that became the crucible of the French New Wave, and had begun to make independent films. Rohmer\u2019s fame as a director sparks automatic curiosity about his novel, but \u201c\u00c9lisabeth\u201d is far more than a footnote. It would be a rewarding, exciting read even if the identity of its author were unfamiliar.<\/p>\n

Read more Broken<\/a><\/p>\n

An unfamiliar identity is what the author wanted: he published the novel under a nom de plume, Gilbert Cordier, and \u00c9ric Rohmer, too, was a pseudonym\u2014taken by one Maurice Sch\u00e9rer, a teacher of Greek and Latin, who launched his filmmaking career under an assumed name so that his parents wouldn\u2019t find out. A pseudonym and a false identity also feature in \u201c\u00c9lisabeth,\u201d and the novel, as a whole, is constructed as a set of ruses and evasions. Rohmer completed it amid battles for the liberation of Paris from its Nazi occupiers, on a street where bullets were flying \u201cright past my window,\u201d as he recalled in an interview appended as an afterword to later editions of the novel and to the English translation: \u201cIt was precisely then, trapped in my room, not even daring to put my nose to the windowpane, that I wrote \u2018\u00c9lisabeth.\u2019 And as I did, I was asking myself: \u2018Is it even possible to write about what\u2019s unfolding at present?\u2019 My answer was: \u2018No, it\u2019s not\u2014you need to take a step back.\u2019\u00a0\u201d<\/p>\n

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His step back was, first, a temporal one, laden with dramatic irony. The novel is set right around the time he started outlining it, in August, 1939, with its characters anticipating the end of summer and a return to business as usual in September, unaware of what is to come. It\u2019s the end of an era, perched on the brink of the catastrophe that, as Rohmer wrote, was unfolding violently on his very street.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s an irony, too, in the novel\u2019s title, which doesn\u2019t refer to its main character. If Rohmer had titled the book more truthfully, he might have beaten Heinrich B\u00f6ll to the title \u201cGroup Portrait with Lady.\u201d Rohmer\u2019s lady in question is \u00c9lisabeth Roby, the wife of a local doctor in a town near Meaux, about twenty-five miles northeast of Paris. She isn\u2019t the novel\u2019s central consciousness but, rather, its central lack of consciousness, something like a living hyphen who brings the story\u2019s main characters together while remaining painfully unaware of their personalities or activities, of what\u2019s going on around her. In other words, Rohmer\u2019s \u201cstep back\u201d is more than just temporal\u2014it\u2019s philosophical.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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In depicting the whirl of August, 1939, he\u2019s also depicting a social world that survives even political cataclysm (at least, for those who do survive). Even during the Occupation, people go to college, hold jobs, take vacations, make and lose friends, flirt, marry, separate, and write; this was the sardonic truth of Rohmer\u2019s own life at the time. In \u201c\u00c9lisabeth,\u201d momentous political events are experienced the way that most people experience them: as newspaper headlines that are given less prominence than ads for toothpaste. In this regard, despite Rohmer\u2019s near-total lack, at the time, of movie culture, \u201c\u00c9lisabeth\u201d is above all reminiscent of one of the greatest of French films: Jean Renoir\u2019s \u201cThe Rules of the Game,\u201d also from 1939, in which a hunting party at an aristocrat\u2019s ch\u00e2teau spotlights high society\u2019s obliviousness to France\u2019s impending disaster. Rohmer, in \u201c\u00c9lisabeth,\u201d spotlights the obliviousness of the professional bourgeoisie\u2014but, unlike Renoir, does so without satire or tragedy.<\/p>\n

The novel\u2019s actual protagonist is Michel Landeau, an engineer in his early twenties, who works at a paint factory in a suburb of Paris and is a distant cousin of \u00c9lisabeth\u2019s. He is spending part of his summer vacation, as usual, as a guest of the Roby family. (In addition to \u00c9lisabeth, there is her husband, Dr. Paul Roby; their seven-year-old daughter, Marie-Th\u00e9r\u00e8se; their son, Bernard, who\u2019s about twenty and, to his parents\u2019 relief, is about to begin university studies; a teen-age cousin named Claire; another summer guest, who\u2019s in high school; and a live-in maid, Louise.) The drama is centered on Michel\u2019s engagement to Ir\u00e8ne Bergmann, a widow a few years older than he, who lives in the nearby town of Percy with her mother. In order to spend time with Ir\u00e8ne, Michel begs off various Roby activities and outings and has also deflected his boss\u2019s suggestion that he spend a few months working at the factory\u2019s mercury mine in Portugal. But he is beginning to have misgivings about the relationship; the novel\u2019s through line is whether the couple will stay together or break up.<\/p>\n

Though the story of \u201c\u00c9lisabeth\u201d is simple, the novel is something of a cubistic puzzle. Told in three sections, replete with chapters and subsections, it flits from character to character and from location to location. This form makes the book startlingly original, an exemplary modernist novel in its redefinition of storytelling. Its method is both distinguished and derived from nineteenth-century classics, from which Rohmer distills a modernism of variety, ambiguity, complexity, and fragmentation. The surface of \u201c\u00c9lisabeth\u201d is elusive and shimmery; characters are hard to discern not because of any lack of detail but, on the contrary, because they\u2019re submerged in an excess of it. Rohmer operates in a manner akin to Post-Impressionist painting, in the style of Seurat or Bonnard: an overwhelmingly perceptive eye atomizes and abstracts characters in a swarming gestalt of unexpressed tension and looming change. By way of extreme precision, the novel feels mysterious.<\/p>\n

The novel is told in the third-person voice of an omniscient but cagey narrator who withholds exposition, drops readers into the midst of action, and delivers crucial information in crumbs of dialogue or action that demand a puzzle-like attention and assemblage in order to discern narrative connections, causalities, and continuities. Moreover, much of the action is infinitesimal: who\u2019s going to go swimming with whom at which river, who\u2019s going to whose home for dinner, who\u2019s giving whom a ride to where, who\u2019s turning down which invitation, who\u2019s out of the house when they\u2019re supposed to be home and why, and who notices. The criss-crossings of coincidences and the overlapping bonds of acquaintance bring to the minute details of phone calls and handwritten notes, sly glances and trivial deceptions, a vast psychological reverberance. And, Rohmer being Rohmer (and human), what unifies these multifarious nuances is sex.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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As in Rohmer\u2019s films, the nuances here involve intricate dialogue. In the book\u2019s first scene involving Michel and Ir\u00e8ne, set in her bedroom, their conversation winds from his repair of her radio to observations about each other\u2019s personalities, from a laborious discussion about whether or not to join the Robys on a beach outing to mention of his potential transfer to Portugal\u2014culminating in their landing on the bed and kissing. (It\u2019s no surprise that Rohmer\u2019s turn to cinema yielded, in 1948, one of the great critical essays in favor of movie dialogue, \u201cFor a Talking Cinema.\u201d) But there\u2019s something elusive in the dialogue of \u201c\u00c9lisabeth,\u201d a sense that it\u2019s taking the place of something else, that every subject broached and every view expressed, however directly connected to matters at hand, conceals what\u2019s really on the speakers\u2019 minds and in their hearts, the artifices of society obscuring the true human drama of the moment\u2014namely, desire.<\/p>\n

Much of the dramatic energy of \u201c\u00c9lisabeth\u201d goes into description: Rohmer has the novelistic eye of a camera, describing actions and appearances with a microscopic specificity, as if seen and described from repeated, even slow-motion viewing of a strip of film:<\/p>\n

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Trees edge the road on either side, their smooth, flat shadows projected by the early sun across the ditch and into the fields; the little irregularities of the asphalt have preserved a few puddles of yesterday\u2019s rain, which glitter now among the shadows. A vehicle passes\u2014a car\u2014in the direction of Percy, slows for the turn, then disappears smoothly down the avenue between narrow white and gray houses. Then another, faster than the first, a milk van this time; then all is quiet again; although, from the direction of town, one perceives a continual vibration\u2014the densely mingled noise of motors, footsteps, and other, variegated shocks\u2014like the distant, monotone murmur of a waterfall.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

These sentences are part of a four-plus-page descriptive riff, one of many passages that lend the novel a teeming, avid opacity. And Rohmer anatomizes thoughts and feelings with the same relentless precision that he brings to external appearances. Parts of the novel, especially those evoking Michel\u2019s introspection, have a Jamesian density of psychological nuance. In the most virtuosic sequence, early on, Michel, spending an evening with Ir\u00e8ne sitting and chatting on her patio, begins to feel their inchoate differences breaking through to the surface; he translates his own unease into radical terms, by way of internal monologues set out in quotation marks, as if offering his own feelings not as affirmations but as experiments in inner masks:<\/p>\n

Read more How New York Watched the World Cup<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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He laughed because he was in the wrong, and because he wanted to make fun of himself, to expel along with his laughter that little ball of loathing inside him\u2014soft but oppressive, like the aura that precedes a fainting fit. \u201cI hate her to the point of death, murder and death. At this precise moment it\u2019s simply a fact. No matter how much I smile, I hate her; no matter how much I love her, I hate her; no matter how much\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0Hate is an oil smudge you accidentally leave on the page of a book\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0But you don\u2019t believe in your hatred, so you hesitate; and then you hate yourself for hesitating, for not believing in your hate.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

But when he gets through his internal rant, some three pages later, he takes a step back: \u201c\u00a0\u2018I\u2019m crazy,\u2019 thought Michel. \u2018I\u2019ll end up believing myself!\u2019\u00a0\u201d His second-guessing doesn\u2019t stanch his inner torrent of bile, which continues through dinner with Ir\u00e8ne and her mother, and goes on for another fifteen pages of emotional hypotheticals and conditionals. The core of his psychic turmoil is physical and finds its match in the precise observations that he makes and which the narrator delivers with piercing clarity in a single, wildly tumbling and twisting sentence of torment:<\/p>\n

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He\u2019d been standing behind her chair like that because he didn\u2019t want to have to face her, knowing that if he did he\u2019d find himself forced to stare at her legs with their thin, pitted skin, or her face, or what he could see of her thighs beneath the dark dress, or at a single point on her face\u2014some tiny mark, some little wrinkle that he certainly wouldn\u2019t perceive right away, but whose location he knew by heart, and which would soon materialize, as manifest as her dark-rimmed eyes with their heavy rings and sad, affectionate gaze\u2014affectionate, and somehow severe (I hate her)\u2014or at her heavy, rounded nose, which wrinkled as she spoke and seemed to drag the rest of the face chin-ward along with it.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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The undercurrent of unsatisfied lust that runs through \u201c\u00c9lisabeth\u201d bursts to the fore when Michel, giving a high-school student named Jacqueline a lift, introduces himself under a false name and then unhesitatingly dares, as she later says, to \u201cjump on top of\u201d her. He touches her sexually\u2014apparently not to her displeasure\u2014but then keeps going, forcefully, after she clearly and repeatedly tells him to stop. The scene is far more sexually detailed than any in Rohmer\u2019s films. It describes the precise placement of Michel\u2019s hands on and in Jacqueline\u2019s clothing, mentioning her wool brassiere, and on her body; at what point she says no; exactly what he does nonetheless; and why she doesn\u2019t call for help or flee, but, rather, moments later, laughs it off, explaining to him that she knew he wouldn\u2019t rape her.<\/p>\n

Michel\u2019s awareness of the ignominy of his actions is marked by his pseudonym, which signals them as premeditated, not a spontaneous outburst of sudden desire but a plan for a sexual experience that would either break or steady his relationship with Ir\u00e8ne. His aggression seems to have left Jacqueline unfazed (whether bravely, proudly, self-defensively, or resignedly) but leaves Michel devastated. The gratuitous act obliterates both his self-image and his indecision, sparking not just a split with Ir\u00e8ne but a total rupture with the social fabric of his present life. (One thing that ultimately salves his conscience regarding the breakup is \u00c9lisabeth\u2019s indiscreet disclosure of \u201can encounter\u2014such a big, grand word, \u2018encounter,\u2019 isn\u2019t it?\u2014anyway, from a little misunderstanding\u201d that had taken place, months earlier, between her son and Ir\u00e8ne.) The novel\u2019s subtle yet brutal psychology is only the manifestation of a literary thread that binds the novel together, erotically, at the level of language itself\u2014or, rather, at the level of the book\u2019s subject matter, which, before it\u2019s a question of dining and swimming, driving and talking, making plans and disclosing secrets, is bodies themselves.<\/p>\n

Cinema is the great compensatory art, the one that artistic temperaments frustrated by the practice of a classical art form turn to when there\u2019s no other outlet left. Rohmer\u2019s passion for movies was awakened around the time \u201c\u00c9lisabeth\u201d was published, or, perhaps significantly, just afterward, when his book failed to make an impression on the world of literature. By 1947, Rohmer was watching lots of movies at cin\u00e9-clubs, and the foundation of his own cin\u00e9-club and a film journal, his critical essays, and his first steps as an independent filmmaker came in short order. But he didn\u2019t quite renounce literature, either: in 1949, he submitted to Gallimard a volume of short stories, \u201cMoral Tales,\u201d which was turned down.<\/p>\n

Though he made films throughout the fifties, it took Rohmer, the elder statesman of the New Wave, a while to get his directorial career going. His first completed feature-length movie, \u201cThe Sign of Leo,\u201d shot in 1959, wasn\u2019t released until 1962. While waiting, he jump-started his career with an inspired decision: to film<\/em> his Moral Tales, which he adapted, between 1962 and 1972, into two shorts and four features (including \u201cClaire\u2019s Knee\u201d and \u201cMy Night at Maud\u2019s\u201d) that made his name as a filmmaker. The result was the creation of the \u00c9ric Rohmer film, a genre unto itself\u2014of stories of romantic intricacy, paying close attention to the behavioral fine points of middle-class people, told largely through abundant dialogue, filmed in modest and unflashy images, presenting the action with quasi-documentary geographical specificity.<\/p>\n

Rohmer\u2019s great concept was to translate literature\u2014his own literature\u2014into cinema by means of a distinctive cinematic form that was, in a sense, the absence of form, or, rather, a style which, as reserved as it may be, reverberates with the sheer power of his self-consciousness about form. The contrast between \u201c\u00c9lisabeth\u201d and his films is one that Rohmer himself characterized in the book\u2019s supplementary interview: \u201cAs a novelist, I considered myself modern<\/em>; as a filmmaker, I\u2019m considered classical<\/em>. (Though I can\u2019t say I completely agree with that.)\u201d The modernism of \u201c\u00c9lisabeth\u201d is in its teeming detail, its rhetorical interplay of observation and subjectivity, its wide variety of formats and methods. What Rohmer discovered in cinema was that the elaborate, rhetorically intricate, tonally disjunctive modernism of literature, of his<\/em> literature, could be achieved in movies by way of radical simplicity, because cinema offers, in its images, what the succession of words and of lines of print on a page can\u2019t: simultaneity.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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The cinema offers in a glance what it takes the narrator a page of description to capture, and then offers still more. The sheer fact of filming fills a frame, even one composed with quasi-documentary plainness, with a plethora of details of narrative, expressive, aesthetic, intellectual, and historical import. But Rohmer was right to put an asterisk on his cinematic classicism: it doesn\u2019t bring to mind the familiar and canonical manner of classic Hollywood or its leading auteurs (for whom he had, as a critic, been a discerning advocate). His self-consciousness about the power of movies\u2014their inherent and instant richness of description, their automatic profuse multiplicity\u2014raised movies to the level of high art by way of a disarming simplicity, without emphatic visual rhetoric, spectacular effects, or theatrical grandiosity. With movies, Rohmer achieved clarity along with complexity, dispelling the Post-Impressionist blurring of lines and the modernist veiling of figures that marked the difficulty, however sublime, of “\u00c9lisabeth.”<\/p>\n

But, far from repudiating the subjects and themes of \u201c\u00c9lisabeth,\u201d Rohmer pursued his directorial career by extending and deepening them. Most of his films have a master plot\u2014the rejection of false loves, however tempting, in anticipation of one true love\u2014which is to say that they\u2019re films of faith and fate, the conversion of accidents into destinies. They\u2019re also films of refusal, rejection, self-denial, and frustration. (These themes mirror his own Catholic observance and, for that matter, his political conservatism.) In lieu of the finely variegated texture of his intricate prose, Rohmer\u2019s films offer transparent but reflective surfaces that are as taut as they are thin, and which are pressurized by passion, stretched tight by these conflicts; they strain against the pent-up force of unsatisfied desire and threaten to burst.<\/p>\n

These built-in tensions distinguish Rohmer\u2019s films not merely in theme but in kind, from the common work of his emulators, in his own time and since (he died in 2010), who understand them merely as romantic films of dialogue-heavy urbanity and intellectual refinement. The dialectically deft characters in his movies aren\u2019t talking heads but talking bodies, elaborating a world of cultural and rhetorical elegance from the sublimation of lust and the dream of love. Rohmer\u2019s great literary achievement is twofold\u2014artistic success and worldly failure\u2014which gave rise to his cinema of substitute gratifications, second chances, and miraculous redemptions. His near-miss with \u201c\u00c9lisabeth\u201d proved to be his unexpected destiny, his good fortune, and the world\u2019s.\u00a0\u2666<\/p>\n

Read more Trump and NATO Court Erdo\u011fan, Turkey\u2019s Strongman<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Before he had any interest in movies, Rohmer was a writer, and his 1946 d\u00e9but is a fine-grained vision of small-town lives in prewar France.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":859,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-860","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-the-front-row"],"yoast_head":"\n\u00c9ric Rohmer\u2019s Novel \u201c\u00c9lisabeth\u201d Is a Precocious Literary Triumph - City Relocation News<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/cityrelocationnews.com\/?p=860\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"\u00c9ric Rohmer\u2019s Novel \u201c\u00c9lisabeth\u201d Is a Precocious Literary Triumph - 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