A powerful meditation on ageing and familial love, I Remain in Darkness recounts Annie Ernaux's attempts to help her mother recover from Alzheimer's disease, and then, when that proves futile, to bear witness to the older woman's gradual decline and her own experience as a daughter losing a beloved parent. Haunting and devastatingly poignant, I Remain in Darkness showcases Ernaux's unique talent for evoking life's darkest and most bewildering episodes.

Details

ISBN13: 9781910695975
Format: Paperback / softback
Number of Pages: 80
Edition:
Publication Date: 18 Sep 2019
Publisher: Fitzcarraldo Editions
Publication City, Country: London, United Kingdom
Dimensions (cm): 197(H)x125(L)
Weight (gm):

Author Biography

Born in 1940, Annie Ernaux grew up in Normandy, studied at Rouen University, and later taught at secondary school. From 1977 to 2000, she was a professor at the Centre National d'Enseignement par Correspondance. In 2017, Annie Ernaux was awarded the Marguerite Yourcenar Prize for her life's work. In 2022, she was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature.

Tanya Leslie was the first translator of Annie Ernaux into English and translated a number of her works, including A Woman's Story (1991), A Man's Place (1992), Simple Passion (1993), Shame (1998), I Remain in Darkness (1999) and Happening (2001).

Reviews

'Acute and immediate, I Remain in Darkness is an unforgettable exploration of love, memory and the journey to loss.'
- Eimear McBride, author of Strange Hotel

'Ernaux writes of memory, of love, of loathing, of disgust, of tenderness; she writes about the frail, leaking, helpless, horrifying body, about the porous self. The narrative was always death. Writing was always an act of betrayal.'
- Nicci Gerrard, The Spectator

'Ernaux's mother died of Alzheimer's disease; like John Bayley's memoir Elegy for Iris, Ernaux's memoir catalogues the deterioration of a once powerful, almost totemic presence, a fall so cataclysmic that it cannot be analyzed or contextualized, only reported. In I Remain in Darkness (its title taken from the last coherent sentence her mother ever wrote) Ernaux abandons her search for a larger truth because, in the face of a loss as profound as that of her mother, all attempts to make sense of it have the feel of artifice.'
- Kathryn Harrison, New York Times Book Review

'A testament to the persistent, haunting, and melancholy quality of memory.'
- New York Times