Missing Person by Patrick Modiano: A review

I first became aware of Patrick Modiano, the French writer, when he won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2014. I learned that he had an extensive and serious body of work and had won many literary prizes, including the Prix Goncourt in 1978 for this book, Missing Person. I read that this was considered perhaps his seminal work on the exploration of identity and so it seemed a good place to make his acquaintance.

I must confess I found my introduction confusing in the extreme. The story was quite difficult to follow. In the last chapters, the author finally brought all the facts together and it began to make sense but I spent much of my time in reading the book in a fog. That may have been the writer's intent.

On one level, this is a detective story; the protagonist and reader decipher and follow the clues, trying to resolve the mystery. The difference is that the mystery here is the identity of the protagonist.

The time is 1965 and the protagonist who is known as Guy Roland has been suffering from amnesia since sometime in the Occupation of France in World War II. He doesn't know who he is or anything about his history. His name and current identity were given to him by a private detective who tried to help him investigate his past. When he was unable to discover his true identity, he gave his client a new one. Then he gave him a job and for several years Guy Roland worked as a detective.

Finally, his boss has retired and has turned all of his reference books and records over to Guy. Now, he has decided to take another crack at finding out who he really is.

Modiano's descriptions of people and places and atmosphere were the best thing about the book for me. He is just superb at setting the stage and making one see and feel the mise en scène.

In nearly all of those settings, fog, or sometimes snow or rain, plays a part, reducing visibility and making one struggle to orient oneself and find a way through the terrain. The protagonist is constantly disoriented and so is the reader. But wasn't it brilliant of the author to make us feel that experience?

So, what is the self? Where does it reside? Is it constructed of our past experiences, and if we forget those, do we lose ourselves? Or is it simply something innate that is always with us, regardless of our experiences? Is it a construct of the present, something that is renewed day by day? Or perhaps it is a combination of all that and more. These are the questions that Modiano considers and that he wants us to think about.

When I started writing this review, I had mentally assigned the book a three-star rating, but as I've been forced to think more about it as I write, I have to change that to four stars. Even though on some level I found the book annoying and confusing, I think the writer succeeded magnificently in his objective.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

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Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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