First published in 1959, Aimez-vous Brahms… was Françoise Sagan’s fourth novel – or maybe novella would be a better word for it as the early ones are all quite short. Unlike her first two books (Bonjour Tristesse and A Certain Smile), Brahms features a relatively mature protagonist, Paule, a thirty-nine-year-old interior decorator living in Paris. It’s the story of a woman at a key point in her life, poised on the brink of entering middle age and everything this represents – particularly with regards to the nature of her relationships with men.
She had stationed herself at this mirror to kill time only to discover – she smiled at the thought – that time was gradually, painlessly killing her, aiming its blows at an appearance she knew had been loved. (p. 7)
For the past five years or so, Paule has been in a relationship with Roger, a rather independent, self-centred businessman who seems very self-assured. While Roger spends some of his nights at Paule’s apartment, he doesn’t live there permanently, preferring instead to maintain his own base in the city.
Right from the start of the story, it is clear that the nature of this relationship is far from ideal, certainly from Paule’s perspective. Roger has established a degree of flexibility with Paule such that he is free to have affairs with other women – usually young girls – whenever the urge arises. Somewhat unsurprisingly, this leaves Paule feeling rather lonely and neglected – effectively an unequal partner in the relationship.
No, she could not explain to Roger that she was tired, that she could stand no more of this freedom imposed like a law between them, this freedom of which he alone availed himself and which for her represented mere loneliness; she could not tell him that sometimes she felt like one of those ruthless, possessive females whom he so hated. Abruptly her deserted flat struck her as odious and useless. (p. 9)
One day, in the course of her work, Paule meets Simon, a handsome and intriguing young man in his mid-twenties. At first, Paule is reluctant to get involved with Simon even though she experiences a palpable spark of attraction. Simon, on the other hand, is determined to win Paule’s heart, pursuing her with considerable vigour and persistence during the days that follow their initial encounter. Naturally it’s not long before Paule succumbs to Simon’s charms – after all, he is very keen and attentive, if a little immature.
With Simon, it was different. He was so keen, so glad, so prompt to look after her, to open doors for her, to light her cigarettes, to anticipate her slightest wishes, that he had come to think of these things before she did, making them seem a series of attentions rather than obligations. (p. 93)
As Paule reflects on the passing of time and her quest for happiness, she is faced with a choice. Should she stay with Roger and the familiar yet unfulfilling existence that this represents, or take a chance with Simon and the freshness of youth he offers? It’s not as easy a decision to make as we might think, especially given society’s views about the suitability of certain relationships back in the ‘50s. In this scene, Paule imagines what others would make of it if they knew the true nature of her growing friendship with Simon.
She imagined the tone in which people – her friends – would say: ‘Have you heard about Paule?’ And more than fear of gossip, more than fear at the difference in their ages (which, as she very well knew, would be carefully emphasized), it was shame that gripped her. Shame at the thought of the gaiety with which people would spread the story, of the pep with which they would credit her, the appetite for life and young men, whereas she merely felt old and tired and in need of a little comforting. (p. 86)
Aimez-vous Brahms… is an insightful story of a woman who longs for personal fulfilment and contentment at a time when life seems to be passing her by. As we grow older, there is a sense that our options in life can narrow, become more limited as we settle into our existence. Nevertheless, new opportunities can come along at the most unexpected of times, and there is an element of that here in Brahms.
The characters are well-drawn and believable – especially the main protagonist, Paule. Sagan’s prose is cool and clear, the tone melancholic and thoughtful.
The novel’s title comes from a note Simon leaves for Paule inviting her to a classical music concert — that is if she likes Brahms. The line ‘Aimez-vous Brahms?’ prompts Paule to question her preferences in life – more specifically, her values and her own sense of self-worth. In some ways, it highlights how uncertain Paule feels at this point. What if anything will make her happy and is this really within reach?
Ultimately, the story comes with a sting in its tail, one that feels painfully believable and true to life. I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to Paule as time passes by – in particular, where she might be a year or two down the line.
All in all, it was a pleasure to return to Sagan, particularly for Women in Translation month which is running throughout August. (Somehow her books always seem to be ideally suited to the summer months, even though the story in Brahms actually takes place during autumn and winter!)
My thanks to Marina Sofia of findingtimetowrite who recommended this book to me last year – it turned out to be an excellent suggestion.
Aimez-vous Brahms… was published by Penguin Books; personal copy.