This book is so unique in the history of literature that I’m at loss for words when it comes to describing it. That hardly ever happens, so bear with me. This book is a completely autobiographical account of falling in love for the first time, but it is also 100 percent high quality literature. Sometime one doesn’t exclude the other. This book is an incredibly poetic story about love, first love but real love. This was my first book by this French writer and I’m heartbroken that it will have to be the last because Mireille Sorgue died so young. You see this book is divided in two parts. The first part was written by Mireille. She wrote the first part of this book, describing with painfully evident literary gift, the awakening and realization of her first love. Mireille named this book Lover (L'amant). Shortly after she took this book to the publisher, Mireille was tragically killed in a car accident. Her Lover, the man she described in her book, wrote the second part of the book I've read. These are some facts that I have to mention because they're crucial for the understand the book itself. It is an exceptional work of literature, but it is also a hearth-breaking life story.
In some editions, only her part is published but to me the book feels complete only in this form- as two parts written by the same soul. For they were one soul, inhabiting two bodies, as hopelessly romantic as that seems. When you read the book, you'll see what I mean. What kind of love it must have been! What can I say about the novel itself? Every word is a poetry. I'm not sure should I call it a novel or a poetry collection. I’m not sure have I ever witness a writer having such a way with words in autobiographical writing. What startles me the most is that her voice is present even after her death. The words written by her lover seem like they were written by her, it is like they were writing them together. They seem like one being. A being utterly different from ordinary mortals, from everyday people. They seem connected in such a unique way. Her voice is his voice. What kind of love it must have been! I’ve never read anything remotely similar, I have never witness loved named with such precision, I have never seen the core of intimacy modelled into words in this way. An extraordinary book! A masterpiece! But beware…It is a terribly sad book. A book about a young woman that died upon having found love for the first time…what is sadder than that?
Ova knjiga je tako jedinstvena u povijesti književnosti da praktički ne znam kojim bi je riječima opisala. To se rijetko događa, pa se malo strpite. Ova knjiga je posve autobiografski zapis zaljubljivanja, da…upravo to. Jedan nevjerojatni poetični zapis prve i prave ljubavi. Srce mi je slomljeno što mora neizbježno biti i zadnja knjiga ova književnice. Mireille je napisala prvi dio ove knjige, opisujući buđenje i ostvarenje ljubavi i nazvala ga Ljubavnik, a nedugo nakon što ga je odnijela izdavaču poginula je u prometnoj nesreći. Njen ljubavnik napisao je drugi dio i nazvao ga Ljubavnica. To su nekakve činjenice o knjizi koje imam osjećaj da ne mogu izbjeći spomenuti.
U nekim izdanjima, obavljen je samo njen dio teksta, no meni ova knjiga ima smisla sam objavljena skupa, u ovoj formi, kao dva djela koje je napisala ista duša. Jer oni su doista bili jedna duša u dva tijela, koliko god to bezdano romantično zvučalo. Kakva je to ljubav bila! Što reći o samome romanu? Svaka riječ je poezija. Ne znam je li bolje nazvati ga romanom ili zbirkom pjesama. Ne znam jesam li ikada vidjela toliko umijeće s riječima u autobiografskom pisanju. Ono što me najviše čudi je što je njezin glas tu i nakon njene smrti, što riječi što piše njen ljubavnik kao da piše ona, kao da pišu zajedno. Djeluju kao jedno biće. Biće posve različito od običnih smrtnika, od svakodnevnih ljudi, povezano na jedinstven način. Njen glas je i njegov glas. Kakva je ljubav to morala biti! Nikad nisam pročitala ništa slično, nikad nisam vidjela imenovanje takvo precizno, bit intimnosti tako ostvarenu u riječima. Nevjerojatna knjiga!