«Ça raconte Sarah»: a Swiss Goncourt choice at the heart of lesbian passion

Le Regard Libre N° 51 - Loris S. Musumeci

An overview of some of the major literary prizes, episode #4

«It tells of Sarah, her unprecedented beauty, her abrupt nose like a rare bird, her eyes of an unheard-of color, rocky, green, but no, not green, her eyes absinthe, malachite, green-gray folded back, her snake eyes with drooping eyelids. It tells of the spring when she came into my life as one enters a stage, full of drive, conquering. Victorious.»

So you know what we're talking about. The story of Sarah, well, tells the story of Sarah. It tells the story of Sarah through the eyes of a narrator with whom she falls in love. With whom she experiences a mad, erotic passion. And then the end of that love, and the slow death that comes with it. The subject matter is simple and the book is short, which pleased the Swiss Goncourt judges. 

This literary prize is directly and officially linked to the Académie Goncourt. In addition to Switzerland, twelve other countries elect their own Goncourt from among the novels in the running for the main Goncourt. Switzerland has been taking part in this literary adventure since 2015, and has already made a name for itself as posing high-quality arguments and choices by the central committee. 

So why has a story as brief as it is dazzling seduced readers? Two things: style and ephemerality. Two points that are completely characteristic of this book. As you read, it's amazing how your eyes glide from one sentence to the next, from one line to the next. It's a more than surprising experience. Pauline Delabroy-Allard is content with the bare minimum; her dry, sober writing moves forward without catching her breath, to the rhythm of the heartbeat.

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Words, words and words go by, and without waiting, we meet Sarah with the narrator, let ourselves be seduced, and engage with them in the torrid pages of lesbian sex. It may not be to everyone's taste, but the experience is worth it. Even if the second half of the novel cuts the frenetic pace of the romance, slowing to a crawl and stopping with the morbid feeling of dying because love is no more. I was less convinced by this sequel. Nonetheless, the Swiss jury's choice has the merit of celebrating original and promising literature, which carries something new and exciting within it. 

«She rises above me, bare-breasted and proud, beautiful and tragically beautiful. Time stretches, almost stops. Everything becomes slow and long. My heart races in my chest, in my veins, in my temples. Kneeling beside me, I look like an icon, a religious image. You'd think she was praying. She doesn't touch me. She caresses me with her gaze. A moment of grace. Sacred moment. Silence. Then she looks into my eyes and sinks her fingers into me, far, far away, so far away that it makes me turn my head, lower my eyelids. She blows on my eyelashes, her mouth close to mine. She whispers words of love that pierce me. Her fingers are long, lost inside me, she plays music deep in my belly that drives me mad. She makes my body twist, my loins buck, she never stops. She goes further and further, faster and faster, so that I'm just a rag doll, a puppet.»

This article is part of the final instalment of our feature on literary prizes, available in our 51^th edition Order here.

Write to the author: loris.musumeci@leregardlibre.com

Photo credit: © Loris S. Musumeci for Le Regard Libre