About the Book:
Sagesse LaBasse, the teenage protagonist of Claire Messud’s The Last Life, lives in a fragile world held together by the secrets of its past. Her family owns the Hotel Bellevue, a summer retreat for the well-to-do, set on the cliffs of southern France; the view is back toward Algeria, which her paternal grandparents fled during its struggle for independence from France. As her grandmother laments, “Every morning, I wake up and look out my window at the Mediterranean sea, vast and creeping, and I smell the pines and the heat on the breeze, rising up the clifftop, and I’m in Algiers again. I live, still, in my heart, in Algeria.”
The loss of their homeland is always present to the LaBasses, and the consequent search for identity both reflects and compounds other difficulties. Sagesse’s father (“fleshy, ingratiating, explosive”) languishes under his own father’s control, and is often unfaithful to Sagesse’s mother, an American who tries to pass as French. Meanwhile, their young son, Etienne, is so severely mentally and physically impaired that his birth is likened to “the clanging of their prison door.” Sagesse’s grandmother looks on with cool resignation, and her grandfather, the family’s hot-headed patriarch, will let no one rest. When, late one night, the old man fires his rifle into a group of children swimming at the hotel’s pool, no one is seriously injured, but the family’s livelihood is put at risk, and long-simmering resentments find an outlet.
Sagesse is the perfect narrator for this fractured situation. She is neither French, nor American; not a girl, yet not quite a woman. Her grandfather’s rash act causes her to lose her friends at school, and she is forced to “seek out the very pot-smokers I had…readily disparaged little over a month before.” These new friends, upon realizing her family’s past (having been French colonists, they are suspected of being racists, and members of the National Front) and relative wealth, also abandon her. With guests trickling away from the hotel, and tensions rising within the LaBasse family, Sagesse tries to understand what remains, and what place there might be for her.
Fortunately, while her life may be painful, she never finds it dull. Sagesse’s language is rich and evocative, full of descriptive power. Here, for example, she witnesses the market: “There were vegetable men and fruit women and stalls selling both, blushing mounds of peaches alongside plump and purple eggplants…pale, splayed organs of fennel pressing their ridged tubes and feathered ends up against the sugar-speckled, wrinkled carcasses of North African dates…the fishmongers sold their bullet-eyed, silver-skinned, slippery catch, blood-streaked fillets and orbed, scored steaks, milky scallops and encrusted oysters….” And here, a painting of the Bay of Algiers: “its apron of azure sea, erratically white-capped, broken by the sandstone finger of the port…the white rise of the city, a thousand precise terraces and roofs climbing into the sunlit sky, the European curlicues and the higgledy-piggledy casbah, all their outlines drawn as if with a single hair, interspersed with delicate little palms and cypresses and other trees of variegated greens, and with broad, brown avenues like branches.”
A brilliant, complex world is formed by the accretion of these images, and they are juxtaposed and spur each other seamlessly, multiplying atmosphere and complicating plot lines. While most of the novel’s events take place around 1990, Sagesse tells of them from a time almost a decade later (when she is a graduate student of the “history of ideas” at Columbia). This frame, constructed of occasional asides and short passages, allows a fluidity where revelations from the past and future cause momentum to shift and whirl — the dead rise, their movements sharper and words more portentous with the reader’s knowledge of coming tragedy. This later perspective also enables Sagesse to add deft hints and wise commentary. Looking back on herself, for instance, she says, “Children do not have words to ask and so do not imagine asking; not asking and not imagining, they eradicate distance: they take for granted that everything, someday, will be understood.”
Book Review:
This is a book that I am still on the fence about. I can’t really claim to have loved it or hated it. For some reason, I just felt like this book was never really going any where — and I kept wondering when it was going to get to the point. It is a strange mix of an interesting story, and an impassive protagonist. It left me frustrated and wanting more, while at the same time appreciating the story telling skills of Ms. Messud.
I think there were two major problems that really rolled into one major issue for me in this book. The protagonist, Sagesse, (Literally translated — wisdom), is a young teenage girl standing in the middle of two vastly different cultures, and a family tree that contains even more national influences than that. With her family origins coming from the United States, France, Algeria, and growing up on the Mediterranean, Sagesse just doesn’t seem to fit in any where. But what made it hard for me to make a connection with this character was the fact that she didn’t seem to have any emotions about anything. She just seemed to be very aloof, and impersonal. The choice of language that Sagesse uses at times through out the book seemed to magnify that draw back. At times in this book I found myself wondering if this was a young woman that felt anything at all — which made it hard for me, as a reader, to get involved in the story. I just couldn’t get invested with the characters as a whole. This is especially apparent in what Sagesse has to go through, with all the trauma, loss, and personal struggle to find a place to belong, and yet no emotional reaction to anything.
I did enjoy the basic story. It had a lot of elements that really made for an interesting background. And the vast differences of the various nationalities, and the struggles of Sagesse, as a teenager, proved to be very interesting for a story line. Unfortunately this strength couldn’t overcome the things about the book that kept frustrating me.
For more information about this book, and its author be sure to visit the following websites:
The New York Times Book Review
New York State Writers Institute Biography
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Originally posted 2012-03-29 14:53:31. Republished by Blog Post Promoter



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