Rachael Eyre's Blog - Posts Tagged "colette"
Formative Books: The Claudine Series by Colette
Every now and then I'm going to examine books which shaped me as a reader and a writer. This could be for any number of reasons: plotting, writing, a strong female protagonist (always a selling point). Even if they've lost their lustre over the years, they're still influential and worthy of inclusion.
I discovered the Claudines when I was working as a volunteer in a charity shop. It was my first real job and on the tedious side - I remember it as continuous cups of coffee while I waded through puddles of nylon knickers, not always clean. Since the role wasn't customer facing, I was allowed to read as I worked. Something about this one book - the title, the cover - caught my eye. I opened it and learned it was translated from the French by Antonia White, one of my favourite writers. Intrigued, I started to read.
Now I know Colette is one of France’s most prolific authors, revered and reviled in equal measure. A woman of many transformations, she developed from the child bride of notorious rake Monsieur Willy, to a bisexual musical hall artiste, to an accomplished lady of letters. I didn't know this at fourteen. As I read further I was surprised, shocked - and hooked. Having raced through Claudine at School, I wanted more. I was delighted to hear there was a whole series and tracked each book down.
Claudine at School
The original and best instalment, it drops us straight into the world of our protagonist, fifteen year old Claudine. She’s a terrific, vividly realised character: intelligent, reckless, opinionated, bullying and romantic. In other words, she's fiction’s first teenager, as likely to punch you as fall in love with you.
Indeed, it's matters of the heart Claudine is preoccupied with, and not in the way you would expect. Growing up in a single sex environment, her crushes are on girls - particularly Aimee Lanthenay, the pretty young assistant mistress. Incredibly, Aimee returns her feelings, and they have a brief dalliance before they're rumbled by the Headmistress, the fearsome Mademoiselle Sergent. Rather than be appalled by her minion’s misconduct, Mademoiselle steals Aimee for herself!
In the hands of a lesser author, this might have been trashy pseudo porn. Instead Colette captures the essence of childhood: the friendships, feuds, infatuations and intrigues. Whether it's her school chums or the sex mad adults, the supporting cast are unforgettable.
Claudine in Paris
Colette took a risk in uprooting Claudine from her beloved Montigny. Yes, it echoed real life, but would it work as literature? Luckily the experiment is a success.
Claudine and her eccentric malacologist father move to Paris, inspiring her to keep her diary again. We’re introduced to a bevy of new characters, most significantly her considerably older cousin Renaud and Marcel, his bitchy twink of a son. What begins as a culture clash comedy becomes a love story as Claudine and Renaud grow closer.
Though not as fresh as its predecessor, it has its moments. Marcel may err on the side of caricature, but since he’s one of the earliest depictions of an openly gay man, we’re grateful for his presence. The chapter with Luce, where we learn what's happened to her since she ran away from school, is heartbreaking. The only sour notes are period appropriate anti Semitism and a pointless cameo from Maugis, Willy’s theatre critic persona.
Claudine Married
Sometimes translated as The Indulgent Husband, this is the tale of Claudine’s disillusionment with her marriage. No longer on his best behaviour, Renaud has revealed his true colours as a sleazy old reprobate - and she doesn't like what she sees.
Distraction arrives in the form of Rezi, the comely wife of a burnt out officer. The two women are instantly attracted to one another. Renaud, wanting to compensate for his shortcomings as husband, plays the pimp. Little does Claudine know that such largesse comes at a cost ...
At the time of writing it was transparent autobiography; everyone on the Parisian literary circuit knew the identities of the threesome. While it's still steamy and portrays a lesbian affair with remarkable frankness, I couldn't help wishing Claudine had chosen someone worthier of her affections.
Claudine and Annie
Strictly speaking this isn't a proper Claudine novel, since our redoubtable heroine is no longer the diarist. That duty is taken over by Annie, a meek young woman married to the unbearable Alain. He's a mansplainer a century before the term was coined.
Claudine still shows up, she still sparkles. Yet something is missing from this account of an almost affair. You sense that Colette’s growing bored with the format, treading water. Though there's salacious goings on between the bit parts, the only scenes to count are those featuring Claudine and the naive diarist.
Retreat from Love
The Phantom Menace of the series. While Claudine and Annie felt as though Colette was going through the motions, this seems like a conscious effort to finish off the series for good.
When Renaud falls ill, Claudine is left alone in the country, opening her doors to waifs and strays. One is Annie, who, having left Alain, has regressed into an empty headed trollop; the other is Marcel, licking his wounds after another scandal. In keeping with this new nympho Annie, she decides she must have him.
It's never included in collections, and you can see why. It's like watching your favourite singer make a comeback with a tone deaf cover of Agadoo. Avoid.
***
The Claudine books are typical of many a debut series in that they veer between marvellous and mundane; Colette herself was ambivalent about them. You can see signs of real promise - she had already mastered characterisation and description. We should also bear in mind the conditions under which they were created. Colette was originally drafted in as another of Willy’s ghost writers, then, when Claudine at School became a bestseller, he made her produce a novel a year. The description of Luce’s sex games with her uncle - she dresses as a schoolgirl while he forces her to do arithmetic - is surely a sly reference to this.
Speaking as a lesbian reader and writer, the series’ outstanding legacy is its queer characters. Marcel might be a shrieking queen but he refuses society’s verdict that there's something wrong with him and is unapologetic about who he is. It is the first - and only - series I've read where a lesbian or bi woman doesn't face prejudice and rejection (though Renaud/Willy’s declaration that affairs between women are of “no consequence” makes me want to slap him). If schoolgirls in 1900 can accept that their friend likes girls as well as boys, why can't adults in the modern day?
The Complete Claudine
I discovered the Claudines when I was working as a volunteer in a charity shop. It was my first real job and on the tedious side - I remember it as continuous cups of coffee while I waded through puddles of nylon knickers, not always clean. Since the role wasn't customer facing, I was allowed to read as I worked. Something about this one book - the title, the cover - caught my eye. I opened it and learned it was translated from the French by Antonia White, one of my favourite writers. Intrigued, I started to read.
Now I know Colette is one of France’s most prolific authors, revered and reviled in equal measure. A woman of many transformations, she developed from the child bride of notorious rake Monsieur Willy, to a bisexual musical hall artiste, to an accomplished lady of letters. I didn't know this at fourteen. As I read further I was surprised, shocked - and hooked. Having raced through Claudine at School, I wanted more. I was delighted to hear there was a whole series and tracked each book down.
Claudine at School
The original and best instalment, it drops us straight into the world of our protagonist, fifteen year old Claudine. She’s a terrific, vividly realised character: intelligent, reckless, opinionated, bullying and romantic. In other words, she's fiction’s first teenager, as likely to punch you as fall in love with you.
Indeed, it's matters of the heart Claudine is preoccupied with, and not in the way you would expect. Growing up in a single sex environment, her crushes are on girls - particularly Aimee Lanthenay, the pretty young assistant mistress. Incredibly, Aimee returns her feelings, and they have a brief dalliance before they're rumbled by the Headmistress, the fearsome Mademoiselle Sergent. Rather than be appalled by her minion’s misconduct, Mademoiselle steals Aimee for herself!
In the hands of a lesser author, this might have been trashy pseudo porn. Instead Colette captures the essence of childhood: the friendships, feuds, infatuations and intrigues. Whether it's her school chums or the sex mad adults, the supporting cast are unforgettable.
Claudine in Paris
Colette took a risk in uprooting Claudine from her beloved Montigny. Yes, it echoed real life, but would it work as literature? Luckily the experiment is a success.
Claudine and her eccentric malacologist father move to Paris, inspiring her to keep her diary again. We’re introduced to a bevy of new characters, most significantly her considerably older cousin Renaud and Marcel, his bitchy twink of a son. What begins as a culture clash comedy becomes a love story as Claudine and Renaud grow closer.
Though not as fresh as its predecessor, it has its moments. Marcel may err on the side of caricature, but since he’s one of the earliest depictions of an openly gay man, we’re grateful for his presence. The chapter with Luce, where we learn what's happened to her since she ran away from school, is heartbreaking. The only sour notes are period appropriate anti Semitism and a pointless cameo from Maugis, Willy’s theatre critic persona.
Claudine Married
Sometimes translated as The Indulgent Husband, this is the tale of Claudine’s disillusionment with her marriage. No longer on his best behaviour, Renaud has revealed his true colours as a sleazy old reprobate - and she doesn't like what she sees.
Distraction arrives in the form of Rezi, the comely wife of a burnt out officer. The two women are instantly attracted to one another. Renaud, wanting to compensate for his shortcomings as husband, plays the pimp. Little does Claudine know that such largesse comes at a cost ...
At the time of writing it was transparent autobiography; everyone on the Parisian literary circuit knew the identities of the threesome. While it's still steamy and portrays a lesbian affair with remarkable frankness, I couldn't help wishing Claudine had chosen someone worthier of her affections.
Claudine and Annie
Strictly speaking this isn't a proper Claudine novel, since our redoubtable heroine is no longer the diarist. That duty is taken over by Annie, a meek young woman married to the unbearable Alain. He's a mansplainer a century before the term was coined.
Claudine still shows up, she still sparkles. Yet something is missing from this account of an almost affair. You sense that Colette’s growing bored with the format, treading water. Though there's salacious goings on between the bit parts, the only scenes to count are those featuring Claudine and the naive diarist.
Retreat from Love
The Phantom Menace of the series. While Claudine and Annie felt as though Colette was going through the motions, this seems like a conscious effort to finish off the series for good.
When Renaud falls ill, Claudine is left alone in the country, opening her doors to waifs and strays. One is Annie, who, having left Alain, has regressed into an empty headed trollop; the other is Marcel, licking his wounds after another scandal. In keeping with this new nympho Annie, she decides she must have him.
It's never included in collections, and you can see why. It's like watching your favourite singer make a comeback with a tone deaf cover of Agadoo. Avoid.
***
The Claudine books are typical of many a debut series in that they veer between marvellous and mundane; Colette herself was ambivalent about them. You can see signs of real promise - she had already mastered characterisation and description. We should also bear in mind the conditions under which they were created. Colette was originally drafted in as another of Willy’s ghost writers, then, when Claudine at School became a bestseller, he made her produce a novel a year. The description of Luce’s sex games with her uncle - she dresses as a schoolgirl while he forces her to do arithmetic - is surely a sly reference to this.
Speaking as a lesbian reader and writer, the series’ outstanding legacy is its queer characters. Marcel might be a shrieking queen but he refuses society’s verdict that there's something wrong with him and is unapologetic about who he is. It is the first - and only - series I've read where a lesbian or bi woman doesn't face prejudice and rejection (though Renaud/Willy’s declaration that affairs between women are of “no consequence” makes me want to slap him). If schoolgirls in 1900 can accept that their friend likes girls as well as boys, why can't adults in the modern day?
The Complete Claudine
