Anne Berest







      
  


Anne Berest's The Postcard is among the most celebrated French novels in years. Published by the famous Europa Editions, it is brilliant, all the way till the end. It is an exploration into family secrets, a wonderful narrative of mothers and daughters, and a brilliant portrait of twentieth-century Parisian creative and imaginative life. It deserves all the praise it has received.

"A powerful, highly readable, and deeply moving account of a Jewish family almost completely wiped out in the Holocaust. Though deemed a novel, almost everything in the book is true, except for the changing of some peoples’ names. A 400+ page book focusing on such a horrendous piece of our recent history is not something I’d imagined I would look forward to reading, but I honestly couldn’t wait to find time each day to return to it.    It is one of the best books I have ever read." Anne Schwartz

Rarely have I read so many rave reviews for a book. Over and over again, readers praise Anne Berest and her ability to write so captivatingly about her own family's history. Look at these awards!

WINNER OF THE AMERICAN CHOIX GONCOURT PRIZE

WINNER OF THE PRIX RENAUDOT DES LYCÉENS

WINNER OF THE ELLE READERS PRIZE

FINALIST FOR THE GONCOURT PRIZE

FINALIST FOR BOOK CLUB FOR THE NATIONAL JEWISH BOOK AWARD

FINALIST FOR FICTION FOR NATIONAL JEWISH BOOK AWARD

plus a Library Journal, NPR, and TIME Best Book of the Year!

I think it's time we get to know this amazing author better.

Anne, tell me about where you live and why you love it so much. 

Paris... hard to explain the incredible mystery of my city. That has something to do with gray, which is a funny color; paradoxically, one never tires of it. 


I love the Parisian clouds like cotton balls. I've been living in this city for 25 years, and you won't believe me if I tell you that every time I cross the "Pont des Arts," (
a pedestrian bridge in Paris which crosses the River Seine), every time for 25 years, I am stunned by the beauty of the city. I tell myself, “It’s not possible, you live in all this beauty. Do you deserve it?”  Paris is a city haunted by its poets, by its painters, by its artists, haunted by ghosts who loved life so much that they don't want to leave it. We can feel them brushing against us. It's a city where you feel the past as you walk through the streets, a living past. I love living here. Writers often say, "It’s better to start from a cliché than to end up there," but in the case of Paris, please forgive me, I'm only going to say clichés, but they're true! I love the art of French conversation, drinking red wine and eating the best cheeses, talking for hours and hours about Art, French cinema, the latest books we have read, and most importantly, we can talk for hours about love, sexuality, friendship. I'm not exaggerating, for hours. We French people have this idiomatic expression, I love it, I don't know if you have the same one: "to cut hairs into four pieces," meaning to analyze, dissect everything. It's our favorite pastime.

A room in Anne's apartment in Paris

Where were you living when you were 7 years old? Are they fond memories? 

When I was 7 years old, I lived in the suburbs of Paris with my parents and my two sisters (I’m in the middle. I swear it’s the best place, because no one is interested in you.) My parents were what we call in France "soixante-huitards." I'm not sure if there's an equivalent in the USA. It refers to the events of May 68 in France, characterized by student protests and general strikes. It means that, once they became parents, they kept the spirit of their youth, kind of hippies, politically engaged. We would always go to demonstrations with our parents, we distributed leaflets in the mailboxes. As teenagers, we had a lot of freedom, we could smoke cigarettes with them (which was totally unconscious), and talk politics with our parents; they were very open-minded. My best memories as a 7-year-old girl were when we used to go on vacation to my grandmother's in the south of France. We did everything ourselves, our honey, our vegetable harvests, we fed the animals on the hill, we used to dry linden leaves on the bed sheets to make infusions. There was no bathroom; we washed ourselves with rainwater that had to be collected in basins. It was an enchanted world for a little girl.

Anne with her sister Claire

Is there a book that changed the way you look at life? 

Yes, King Kong Theory by Virginie Despentes. 


Virginie Despentes was the first neo-feminist in France, and she really paved the way. She was quite the only one at that time. But when we read her book, an entire generation was completely shaken. She said things that no one had said before, about rape, prostitution, pornography. It was truly a manifesto for a new feminism, far ahead of its time. She was the first to say in France: “Do you really think the feminist struggle is won? Oh! We still have many, many battles to fight!” For me, this reading was something very powerful. Very important because, indeed, it changed the way I looked at life. 

Do you have a favorite children’s book and what about it makes it so? 

One of my favorite illustrated books was Where the Wild Things Are. The translation of the title, in French, is  Max and the Maximonsters . 


And around the age of 10, when I started reading non-illustrated books, I discovered an abridged version of an American book called "Fantasia by the Hicks" in French. It’s the translation of Diamond Bikini by Charles Williams. 


I see myself laughing alone, really laughing until tear, sitting on the stairs at my parents' house, probably munching on a snack while reading. It was an epiphany, a revelation, a delight. I discovered that reading was the most extraordinary activity in the world.
 

What are the funniest or most embarrassing stories your family tells about you? 

Of course, my family loves to tell embarrassing stories about me. My little sister, for example, remembers how cruel I was to her. I used to make her believe that I was an alien who had invaded her big sister's body, but that no one would ever notice except her. So, she cried, cried, cried... poor thing. Fortunately, we remained very close, and eventually she did understand that I wasn't an alien after all.We even wrote a book together (she's also a writer) which will be released next year in the USA, about our great-grandmother, Gabriële Buffet, her husband, Francis Picabia, and her lover, Marcel Duchamp.

Anne with her sister Claire, 30 years later.

How did you meet your beloved? How did your first date go? 

We met because we had mutual friends... he was curious, so he read the book I had just written, 'Sagan Paris 1954' . If you want to know more, you have to read The Postcard because Georges is the character in the book! 

Is there a song, person, or group that you listen to when you are feeling a bit down?

Doris Day, Keep Smiling.


Keep smiling and keep laughing.

Keep pushing and everything will be all right. 

Doris sings

How are you different now than you were in your 20’s?

Inside, I'm still exactly the same and that, in a way, comforts me. I have the same dreams and the same desire. And at the same time, I wouldn't relive that age for anything in the world. I am so much happier being twice the age. A famous French author, Paul Nizan, wrote: "I will not let anyone say that 20 years was the best age of life." It's very true for me. I was completely lost, I didn't understand anything about human dynamics, I confused love with passion, jealousy with the desire for possession, I was completely embarrassed by myself, I was afraid of missing out on life, I thought I would never succeed in becoming a writer, I thought everyone else was boarding trains while I remained alone on the platform. I was often very sad, melancholic, even desperate.

Anne at 20, photo by Anne Rehbinder

Is there a question no one has ever asked you that you wish they would?

What does a woman who writes need?

Answer : a room of her own and…. a good wife.

(It's a writer's joke... sorry…  a woman writer's joke!) 

Something, perhaps, that people would be surprised to know about you?

That I'm ambidextrous?

 Can you remember a particular random act of kindness from a stranger?

I must say that the American audience has been particularly kind to me, perhaps because I was traveling, I was often offered dinner invitations, tours of the city, the readers were truly lovely. I received beautiful letters, gifts, books, notebooks, sometimes specialties from the city. I think it was in Seattle where I was given dozens of chocolate bars. But perhaps the strangest thing was in New York. After a panel, a woman came up to me. She said, ‘I’m a medium, I don't know you, but I listened to your talk, and I have things to tell you.' 

How do you feel about “Independent Bookstores” and their role in your success?

I owe so much to independent American bookstores. They truly supported my book. I loved meeting people in bookstores, talking with booksellers. When I see the work they do, to animate their spaces, to forge special bonds with their customers (I almost wrote their patients... what a strange slip of the pen), I am very admiring.

And now the famous time travel question:

 IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME

to any period from before recorded history to yesterday,

be safe from harm, be rich, poor or in-between, if appropriate to your choice,

actually experience what it was like to live in that time, anywhere at all,

meet anyone, if you desire, speak with them, listen to them, be with them.

When would you go?

Where would you go?

Who would you want to meet?

And most importantly, why do you think you chose this time?

In France, after World War I, my country experienced a period we called  "Les années folles," which means "The Crazy Years."  This corresponds to the 1920s and would be the equivalent of the roaring twenties for you, in the USA. It was a period of total artistic explosion and liberation of morals as well. It's evident in all areas, music, theater, dance, painting, and reflected in women's fashion, with short hair, what we called the "garçonne" fashion, like the word "boyish" - it’s not exactly like "flapper." I think "garçonne" was more sexually ambiguous. For all women, corsets disappeared, women no longer wanted to be confined in dresses like in prisons; they also began to borrow clothing from the male wardrobe. The first war had been such a horror, such stupidity, that people wanted to live, love, travel, do everything at full speed. I would have liked to experience this period of intense freedom. I could have both encountered Marcel Proust at the end of his life,


 gone to listen to Jazz, seen Josephine Baker dance,
 between the two "Monts" (in French, Mont means small hill) "Montparnasse" and  "Montmartre", which were the two districts of de La Bohème. (For the simple and good reason that the tax on wine and tobacco was cheaper). I would have liked to meet the painters and experience with them the extraordinary revolution, the transition from figurative to abstraction. Why suddenly paint things that don't resemble reality? Paint things that resemble nothing? It's a period I've studied extensively for the book I wrote with my sister Gabriële... and I loved it. People were curious about each other, artists exchanged their paintings, people wrote letters, went dancing all night. Art wasn't commercialized like it is today. Painters who now are sold for millions, back then lived with nothing, would be frightened to see what the "art market" has become.

Thank you Anne, not just for allowing us to learn your family's amazing history but also for writing it in such a way that makes readers feel apart of your family.

I wish you continued success and by the way Claire, she is an alien!

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