Autor: Georges Simenon
Year: 1967
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While it was easy to read the text, it was a bit hard to understand the characters. I had a feeling that I knew them, or more like, I believed they could very much exist, but I couldn't fully understand them. I couldn't understand how someone can know someone so well, to the point of accurate predictions of their actions and thoughts, and yet still not empathize. The way both Émile and Marguerite acted reminded me of the war amongst kids and how a kid is able to remember something bad did to him. It also looked like tension from living with controlling parents too, and in a way, the female characters of Émile's life all almost share the same controlling feature. Almost.
At some point, it's hard to tell why I stopped fully believing the narrator. What if the Marguerite he is showing us, is his demonizing imagination? What if there is no understanding, but obsessive fantasizing about what the other is? The more I read, the more that feeling accumulated.
I am not defending Marguerite either; I am just saying that I don't fully trust her depiction.
And since the book itself multiple times mentioned Émile's mother and his previous relationships, I assume there might have been some sort of similar, controlling situation all throughout his life before, that it became impossible for him to live without that feeling, especially the older and weaker he got? But I am not a therapist, so it's just assumptions.
Overall, while it was an easy read, it wasn't very exciting either. Not bad, not good.