Fire In The Blood

Fire in the Blood / Irène Némirovsky
Translated from the French by Sandra Smith
Toronto: Knopf Canada, c2007.
138 p.

This novel, written in 1941 but only found among Némirovsky's papers and published in 2007 for the first time, is a brief glimpse at a French village that is full of secrets among respectable people. It's about youthful indiscretions and how they ripple out to affect the lives of everyone in the village. The title drop reflects this:

"How is this fire lit within us? It devours everything and then, in a few years, a few months, a few hours even, it burns itself out. Then you see how much damage has been done."

Silvio, our narrator, has travelled the world, had many lovers, seen many lands; now he has returned to his home village and wants to settle down on his small holding in peace. But there are too many others around to be truly at peace. He knows too much. 

Meanwhile his relative Helene and her family involve him in a lot more drama -- their eldest daughter Colette is marrying a young man, son of the miller. Another young woman of vague acquaintance, Brigitte, is married to an old man, a farmer with a lot of land. Brigitte begins to play a part in Helene's family life in unexpected ways. Well, perhaps unexpected to the reader, because while the villagers appear to be secretive, suspicious and private, they all know everything about what is going on and what has gone on in the past -- they just don't talk about it, and pretend not to know. They don't want to get involved. 

In this very small novel, there are emotional extremes, quiet trauma, and shocking events. There is beautiful, clear writing, and insightful commentary. And there's a line drawn between youthful passion and middle-aged comfort. Helene was young, beautiful and impulsive -- now she's a middle aged mother of a married daughter, and a comfortable life with her husband. As the narrative notes,

"Memories of the past would return to us more often if only we sought them out, sought their intense sweetness. But we let them slumber within us, and worse, we let them die, rot, so much so that the generous impulses that sweep through our souls when we are twenty we later call naive, foolish."

This book is an exploration of those youthful impulses and the repercussions of repressing them as one grows older, especially in an enclosed community like this tiny village. It's sparely told but quite lovely in its way. And quite quotable too.