Albert Camus said that André de Richaud’s novel La douleur – The pain – inspired him to become a writer. When it came out in 1930, it created a scandal. The author was just twenty-three years old and had sent his manuscript to the Jury of the Prix du premier roman of the Revue Hebdomadaire. The jury was so shocked but impressed by the writing, that nobody won the price that year. While they considered La douleur too shocking for publication, it was clearly the best book. Despite the risk of a potential scandal, Bernard Grasset published the novel anyway that year, as he liked it so much.
Even though he entered the literary scene making such an impression and even though people like Camus and Cocteau praised him, de Richaud never got the fame or recognition he deserved. He went on to write more novels, short stories, plays, and poems but without any success. At the age of fifty-one, prematurely aged, he moved into a nursing home where he died of tuberculosis in 1968. He wrote his final work, the autobiographical novella Je ne suis pas mort – I am not dead, in 1965, after having found his own obituary that someone posted erroneously in a newspaper.
You’re certainly curious to find out now why La douleur was such a scandalous book. What was particularly scandalous was the combination of several themes that were taboo at the time. The love between French women and German prisoners of war, incest, and female sexuality.
La douleur is set during WWI, in the village of Althen-des-Paluds, in the Comtat region in the South of France, very far from the trenches. In the village, like in so many other French villages, there are only women, old men, and children, until the day when three German prisoners of war arrive.
Thérèse Delombre has lost her husband six months ago. Since then she’s been living alone with her small son. Thérèse Delombre suffers intensely. Not so much because she misses her husband, but because the loss leaves her sexually frustrated. She can’t think of anything else, can’t sleep. While it isn’t explicit, it’s obvious that her relationship with her son has an incestuous undertone. He sleeps in her bed, they touch constantly. She’s jealous whenever he makes a friend, especially a female friend. And when she catches the kids playing doctor’s games in the attic, she freaks out. This changes when she meets the German prisoner Otto and begins an affair with him. She neglects her son and throws herself into this love affair, unaware that people have noticed and disapprove.
Even for a contemporary reader some of the passages are very outspoken but not explicit. There isn’t any description of any of the sexual encounters, but the longing is described in an explicit way.
The book is courageous and interesting because of these themes but what made me really love it is the writing. De Richaud is a stunning writer. His descriptions are so lyrical I read many passages several times just because they were so beautiful. He also manages to give us a feeling of what it was like to be in one of those villages far from the trenches, but still so deeply affected by the war.
It’s tragic to know that the book is based on de Richaud’s own childhood. He was traumatised by his mother’s affair with an enemy.
What I find even more tragic is that de Richaud has hardly been translated. La douleur has been translated into German for the first time in 2019. I don’t think that an English translation of this exists. It’s a shame. People would love it and those interested in Camus would appreciate reading it even more.
This was such a haunting book. I will certainly read more of de Richaud’s work.
Beauty is a Sleeping Cat 
Oooh, haven’t heard of him so I must remedy that – sounds compelling. Hoping my university library will have it!
Yes, please do read him. I’d love to hear what you think. I hadn’t heard of him although I’d say it’s an era I’m pretty well read in. I saw the translation at the book shop then went home and googled. No idea why he isn’t better known.
Darn, they only have La barette rouge and La fontaine des lunatiques…
They might be good too. I would actually like to read La Fontaine next.
This sounds so powerful. What a pity it hasn’t been translated, hopefully one of presses that promotes translated fiction will pick it up soon, it seems such a strong choice for a publisher.
It was very powerful and beautiful prose. I remember, in the past, Emma, Book Around the Corner, wrote about something and a publisher saw it and had it translated. Hopefully thus happens here. I wonder who would be a good choice. NYRB?
I really hope it happens here! NYRB would be great. If it’s a short novel, maybe Peirene or CB Editions would do it as they focus on translated works. Fingers crossed…
It’s not for Pereine. It’s a bit too long. Yes, fingers crossed.
What about Fitzcarraldo Editions or Pushkin Press, Caroline? Do you think they might be interested?
Both are good choices. I sent a tweet to NYRB but no reaction. I might see if send an email. Or to Pushkin Press. I’m not familiar with the catalogue of Fitzcaraldo Editions. It’s such a beautiful book.
Hope NYRB responds to you soon. Fitzcarraldo Editions have a signature blue cover. They typically don’t have any description of the book on the cover. It is almost like seeing a French book, where the covers are all same and they just let the books do the talking. Fitzcarraldo published both Mathias Énard’s Compass and Olga Tokarczuk’s Flights in English. They have an excellent catalogue. Do have a look when you have the time.
Now I see which publisher. But I think they rather publish newer works while NYRB and Pushkin Press choose older works. I haven’t heard anything yet but they might not have seen the tweet.
I think you are right. I haven’t seen any older work published by Fitzcarraldo either. Hope you hear from NYRB soon.
OMG! I’ve never heard of him – why hasn’t he been translated??? So frustrating!!!!
It baffles me. But then again so
Much hasn’t. I often shy away from reviewing them but might do so more often again.
The book sounds well worth the read. Camus’s esteem for the novel says a lot. I searched around a bit. It does look like there is no English translation.
Super review.
Thank you, Brian. It’s a shame about the translation. The writing is beautiful. It seems like he was appreciated by writers and critics but never by the general public.
How interesting to hear about this writer and the background to the book. (I wasn’t aware of either.) It does sound like a good fit for NYRB if they would be interested in picking it up. I think there’s a page on their website where readers can submit suggestions for publication. Oh, here we go…I just found it. There’s an email address in the link for suggestions on future titles.
https://www.nyrb.com/pages/recommend-book
Thank you Jacqui. I reached out on Twitter as they follow me but if I hear nothing back, I will contact them via this link. It would be a perfect fit for them.
This looks very fascinating, Caroline! I hope they translate this book into English. I would love to read. I found this – “He wrote his final work, the autobiographical novella Je ne suis pas mort – I am not dead, in 1965, after having found his own obituary that someone posted erroneously in a newspaper.” – very interesting! Very Kafkaesque 🙂 Thanks for sharing your thoughts and introducing us to this wonderful writer!
My pleasure. It is Kafkaesque. Just imagine reading your own obituary. 😕 It should be translated.
Yeah. I don’t know what de Richaud felt about it. It must have been shocking and disappointing.
Very much so. Imagine.
I hadn’t heard of this so thanks for the tip
Hopefully, he will be translated.
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