Q: Life is stronger than anything else, there is always a solution, and I will find it. I’m sure of that. (с)
Q:
Why am I not allowed out?
Why must I not derive any pleasure from eating?
Why does Yves stub out his cigarettes on my knee?
Why does Raymond do what he does to me?
Why can’t I have any heating in my bedroom?
Why don’t we wash?
Why does no one kiss and hug me like people do in books?
Why am I not allowed to go to school with other children?(c)
This book is a veritable eye-opener. This is probably the first time ever, when I have literally no idea, what and how went REALLY, HORRIBLY wrong with those people (can't call them parents!), because it's about everything that did, including foolproof things. And there were friends of family who thought nothing of a girl forcibly held over a precipice! What the fuck? How do people get that batshit crazy?
My heart went out to this girl. She withstood immense psychological and physical torture from her parents throughout her childhood. Maude managed to survive it on her own, as a child. The father was the mastermind, the mother was his victim and enabler. Everything was against her, still she manageed to overcome it all!
Her childhood was a weird mix of education (to the point of obsession, maybe! though I, personally am a proponent of early education in children), pain (horrible, unspeakable stuff!), mental conditioning (sect-style) and plain weird shit (appropriate in a madhouse). Her father tried to implement a lot of esoteric/occult/crazy? stuff in raising her up.
The way the girl was born is also worthy of a special treatment in a mental hospital. Her father bought (otherwise acquired? Q:It’s unclear whether there was a financial transaction.(c)) her mother when she was still child. Because she was blond (?). And was from humble origins. Then he raised her, gave her education and got her a child, our author.
The books is written in a way, a very weird one. Actually, the girl felt incredibly mature. A real force of nature, she had to become to get over all that! And it's like she never got maudlin or felt sorry for herself, which is an extremely rare quality.
The education and family traditions are also worthy of a special mention. For one thing, I was not sure how to put my thoughts about this. It's a horrible mix of perfectly ok things (though still unconventional, like early education) and of horrible abuse. This family actually took a lot of good ideas and perverted them horribly.
For one thing, it would be ok to play with a child pocker face. Still, it was perverted to nonsensicality.
It's ok to teach a child things early in life, it's not ok to timemanage them to horror.
It's ok to be lax in birthdays preparations, it's not ok to ignore them altogether.
And the list goes on and on. What the freak has happeneed to the father to become such a monster? Eugenics training gone wrong? Occult practices mushing his brain? What? How does one get that way?
Another maddening thing is that these fuckers(! can't call them parents!) fucked up her education miserably, since their own knowledge was far worse than needed to teach a girl all the things they endeavoured. Who would try teaching a child German without knowing it? Who would demand the child learns sommersaults, acrobatics, etc without knowing either how to do it or how to teach it? Who would send a child to sit exams without 1st getting some teachers/books explaining what those exams entail (like, that essays are not the only thing on the menu?)? And the mathematical tortures, don't get me started on them! I can't believe how clever/well-adjusted/incredible this girl was to manage to get aducation after all of that!
I truly hope that she is fine now. I hope that she manages to find her peace and to go on living as bright and happy and hopeful as she was created by God, before those nutters got to her. I also pray that whatever genetic quirk that brought THAT on, is never ever further revealed in her family, God bless them. She took way more shit than any of us could ever dare to take and stay sane to tell about it. She needs some serious rest from all of that!
Another thing: we are told precious little on how Maude got to become the well-adjusted person she seems to be today. I do realise discussing this might be terribly intrusive on her privacy but, BUT if ever she considers a follow-up on that and her life afterwards, a lot of readers (and me personally) would definitely be not only inrigued but bound to dive right in.
An excerpt from an interview with her:
«Mon père est mort quatre ans plus tard, explique-t-elle. Il a fallu que j’apprenne à vivre. Même marcher dans la rue m’était compliqué.» Asociale et inadaptée, la jeune Maude développe alors toutes les phobies possibles et imaginables. «J’avais peur de l’ascenseur, du noir, de voir des gens. Par exemple, il m’a fallu très longtemps pour oser demander une baguette bien cuite à la boulangerie.»
Pour autant, elle rêve de dévorer à pleines dents la vie qu’elle n’a jamais eue. Brésil, Chine, Vénézuela: elle se met à voyager et embrasse la carrière de thérapeute. «J’ai tourné la page depuis longtemps. Ce livre n’est pas une thérapie mais un moyen d’aider ceux qui sont victimes d’emprise mentale comme je l’ai été…»
Q:
Whenever the two of us are alone, my mother tells me it’s my fault we had to leave Lille and bury ourselves in this hole. That I’m not normal. I have to be hidden, otherwise I’d be locked up in Bailleul straightaway. Bailleul is the lunatic asylum. I went there once, when my parents took on one of their inmates as a maid. It’s a terrifying place... (c)
Q:
My father had the walls coated with a roughcast of an even coarser texture in order to ‘tame’ me. It didn’t do any good. I still went and hit my head against those walls in fits of anger. (c)
Q:
My mother, whom Linda views with cool courtesy, is exasperated. ‘That dog’s mine,’ she keeps telling me. ‘But of course you have to own everything. You act as if she’s yours. And you’ve managed to make the stupid animal believe it herself.’(c)
Q:
My father often returns to this episode. He wants me to understand that he’s the only one who loves and protects me. That I should trust only him. (c)
Q:
I feel like the ducks on the pond, with one wing that my parents want long and beautiful and the other cut to the quick. (c)
Q:
Linda and Pitou are my darlings, I’d do anything for them. My parents understand this. If they want me to do something, they need only say, ‘Watch out! If you don’t do it, Linda will be locked up for two extra hours a day for a month,’ or ‘We’ll put Pitou in a wooden crate for three days with nothing to eat or drink’ or, worse still, ‘We’ll put Pitou back where he belongs’—that is, the pond, where I know he wouldn’t survive. So my minor rebellion instantly dissolves. (c)
Q:
My father doesn’t like me doing nothing. When I was little, I was allowed to play in the garden once I’d finished studying. But now that I’m almost five, I have less free time. ‘You mustn’t waste your time,’ my father says. ‘Focus on your duties.’ (c)
Q:
Ever since then, I settle for gazing from afar at the tree of happiness. (c)
Q:
I don’t have much free time, anyway. Between schoolwork, music, my share of the housework, and serving my father, my days are very full. (c)
Q:
You’re in danger, too,’ he {father} says, looking at me intently. ‘People will try to abduct you. That’s why you mustn’t go out. ...
He reminds me of another safety measure I already know well: the lights must never be switched on when the shutters are open, because this would make us easy targets for a potential sniper hiding on the other side of the road. ...
I’m given to understand that there’s a ‘wave of child kidnappings’ going on at the moment. After the Lindbergh baby and the Peugeot boy, I’m third on the list. (c)
Q:
My father reiterates the fact that everything he does is for me. That he devotes his entire life to me, to training me, shaping me, sculpting me into the superior being I’m destined to become. ...
I need to understand just how much my very existence is a result of my father’s plans. I know I must prove worthy of the tasks he will set for me later. But I’m afraid I won’t measure up to his vision. (c)
Q:
My father is convinced that the mind can achieve anything. Absolutely anything: it can overcome every danger and conquer every obstacle. But to do this requires long, rigorous training away from the impurities of this dirty world. (c)
Q:
He sometimes tells me that I should never leave the house, even after he’s dead. His memory will live on here, and if I watch over it, I’ll be safe. Other times he informs me that later, I’ll be able to do whatever I want, that I could be President of France, master of the world. But when I leave the house, it won’t be to live a pointless life as ‘Mrs Nobody’. It will be to conquer the world and ‘achieve greatness’. I’ll have to come back from time to time to recharge myself ‘at home base’: in other words, in this house, which absorbs more and more of my father’s power every day. (c)
Q:
To avoid disappointing him too much I wage war on my many faults. But there’s one I just can’t control: I have a habit of twitching my nose and mouth and screwing up my eyes. ...
Since I was little he has made me sit facing him ‘without moving a muscle’.
At first I had to stay still for a few minutes. Then a quarter of an hour. Once I turn five, he adds what he calls ‘the impassivity tests’ to my daily schedule, between eight and eight-fifteen in the evening. Then the sessions become even longer and are held at any time of day, sometimes lasting several hours and delaying my lessons and homework, which then all have to be caught up. And now my mother has to do them too—when we’re alone she’s quick to tell me how much she resents me for this. (c)
Q:
‘You mustn’t reveal anything with your face or your body,’ my father says in his deep voice, ‘otherwise you’ll be eaten alive. Only weak people have facial expressions. You need to learn to control yourself if you want to be a great poker player.’
Do I want to be a great poker player? I don’t know, I’ve never played poker. But I have to be ready in case I ever need to later. (c)
Q:
We never use terms of endearment because they’re ‘for the weak and sappy’. The word ‘darling’, for instance, is never said in our house. (c)
Q:
Because they’re a ‘present’, the writing time for these letters is taken out of my allocated sleep time. (c)
Q:
The waking-up rule is one example. ... At six-thirty every morning she opens my door—wham!—and she flicks the light on and yells, ‘Get up!’ My mother thinks people who get up at seven are ‘slackers’. Under her watchful eye, I have to get straight out of bed and dress in less than two minutes. (c)
Q:
As far as my father is concerned, birthdays are not celebrations, and I have to be trained so that mine never becomes one. Which is why every November 23rd I have a longer school day and no recess. I’m waiting anxiously to know what the new ‘teaching’ for my sixth birthday will be.(c)
The parents made sure to hire a teacher as crazy as they were:
Q:
On these occasions when he wants to punish me, he throws his beer in my face. Or he stubs out his cigarette on my thigh. I’m so tense that my playing goes from bad to worse. The punishments come thick and fast. During my first piano lesson, he’s obviously surprised by the quality of my playing, which is mainly thanks to Madame Descombes. ‘How come you play so well, when you’re so hopeless on the accordion with me?’ In a flash his amazement turns to fury. He slaps me twice, and to help calm his mood, he snatches my favourite scores and tears them into little pieces. (c)
Q:
By the time I’m eight, I’ll be pretty much equipped to survive in a concentration camp. (c)
Q:
My father sometimes summons me to this room to teach me how to open a safe without knowing the code. It will be very useful, he explains, if I am ever short of money. In the event that I am, I have to identify a casino to rob. ...Once the safe is open, I must respect the rules: take only cash and leave jewellery and other valuables. (c)
Q:
He starts his ‘teaching’: ‘The Third Reich was one of the strongest nations, better even than the Spartans. The nation of the Third Reich will return and it will rule the world. It is superior to all others because of the teaching and training it gives its youth (c) And this was supposedly the guy who was in resistance. One wonders...
Q:
I find it hard to swallow so I chew endlessly. ‘Only the weak chew for a long time. Swallowing big pieces forces your stomach to work for you, and that builds your character and your strength.’ When he was young he always succeeded in his own personal challenge of downing six hard-boiled eggs in the time it took the clock to strike twelve midday. (c)
Q:
‘You listen to me,’ he always says, ‘we’re not like everyone else. We’re not sheep. We belong to the category of strong spirits. You will develop a strong mind like mine. Don’t disappoint me, don’t grow into a weakling like your mother.’ (c)
Q:
I don’t think he knows it’s not the dead I’m terrified of, but the rats. I don’t say anything because I’m convinced that, if he knew, he’d think of some horrible way to cure me of my fear. (c)
Q:
After learning to ride a bike and to swim, I now have to learn to ride a horse... First, just like swimming, riding will be very useful if I need to escape. Secondly, it will be a prerequisite when, like my father, I’m initiated into a chivalric order—passing myself off as a man, it goes without saying.... There is a third and still more indisputable reason: I need to be able to get a job with a circus in case I have to hide or go undercover at some point. (с) This is seriously...
Q:
‘When I tell you to choose, Maude, that doesn’t mean “choose”. It means take what’s in front of you decisively so no one can detect the slightest hesitation on your part. Choosing has nothing to do with pleasure. Only the weak hesitate and take pleasure in choosing. Life isn’t about pleasure, it’s a merciless struggle. If you show someone what gives you pleasure, you’re revealing your vulnerability, and that person will take advantage of them to crush you. When you behave the way you just have, you put us all in danger.’
I’m sure my father’s right. ... I know what pleasure is, it’s mentioned in books: ice-cream, cakes, parties, dances, Christmas trees…These are all things I’ve never seen or experienced, and to be honest I don’t miss them. My father need not worry, I’ve never dreamed of or longed for a Christmas tree.(c)
Q:
... I’ve grasped that I have to disguise my delight and enthusiasm for things. Now, when I see something wonderful, I act completely indifferent to it. (c)
Q:
In my father’s view, comfort is one of the pernicious ‘pleasures’ that must be suppressed. ... the vast house is barely heated. My bedroom must not be heated at all in order to conform to the precepts of a ‘tough’ upbringing. Sometimes it’s so cold that my windows freeze over on the inside. ... For the same reasons, I have to wash in cold water. ... My parents, on the other hand, are allowed hot water, especially my father, who—because he’s ‘the very picture of strong will’—has nothing left to prove. (c)
Q:
When you take a bath, you lose your immunity and expose yourself to diseases,’ he tells me, and then adds, ‘unless you bathe in the same water as me: I protect you from outside pollutants.’ That’s why I have to wait until my parents have taken their baths before I can get into the tub, without changing the water. ‘Leaving my water for you is an honour I grant you,’ my father often says. ‘It allows you to benefit from my energies when they enter your body. (c) Crap...
Q:
My father finds laughter extremely irritating. He sees it as a waste of energy, proof of a total lack of control. Smiling finds no favour in his eyes either. ‘Do you want to be the village idiot?’ he asks ... ‘Only halfwits smile. Your face must be serious and expressionless in order to confuse your adversaries. Never reveal anything.’(с)
Q:
My room looks out over the street and, by an extraordinary stroke of luck, has no shutters. Has he realized that I slip my head under the red velvet curtain every evening and secretly watch the wonderful life of the people across the street? I observe them wandering casually from room to room, chatting, watching TV. Sometimes they open a tin of cookies and snack from it. I’m amazed to think you can eat like that, without being at the table, without asking permission. And this is with all the lights on, as if they had no idea about marksmen lying in wait. (c)
Q:
Every morning we synchronize our watches, ‘exactly as bombers and terrorists do’, explains my father because, like them, our success depends on precision. (c)
Q:
Now it’s the whole day—from the wake-up call at six o’clock to bedtime at eleven-thirty—that has to be regulated like clockwork. The day has to follow a detailed program devised by my parents and written out in a large exercise book, which I’m not allowed to read. (c) Gawwwd. These people should have taken to regulating their own lives. Instead of their child's.
Q:
I now have to take responsibility for waking the household, which means I have to get up before everyone else. I do have an old alarm clock, but I’m not allowed to use it; I have to be able to wake by sheer force of will...I’m so terrified of being caught red-handed that I might as well have swallowed an alarm clock: my eyes snap open just before the appointed time. (c)
Q:
At eight o’clock I knock on my father’s door... For the next forty minutes I wait on my father... While he gets up and sits on the edge of the bed, I fetch the chamber pot. It’s no ordinary pot, but a bowl made of glass so he can check for traces of white in his urine, a sign of excess albumen. I stand in front of him so he can urinate into the pot. Every morning I feel increasingly nauseous as the bowl gradually warms in my hands.
My mother comes into the bedroom with a tray. We prop up the pillows behind my father, who is sitting back up in bed, and we stand and watch as he drinks coffee with cream and eats buttered bread.
When he has finished, we dress him... (c) Behold the perfect way to raise a superhuman girl.
Q:
Then I have to go back down for an hour of German with my father,... He doesn’t really know German. (c)
Q:
Lights out is at eleven-thirty. To be absolutely sure I’m sleeping, my mother is instructed to cut off the electricity supply to my bedroom.(с)
Q:
Every month I have to carry out a ‘meditation on death’ and a ‘test of courage’. ...a new ‘electric fence’ test as part of my tests of willpower... Alcohol is now an important part of training my willpower. Since I was seven or eight... (с)
Q:
Someone is howling inside me. But no one hears. No one is listening.(c)
Q:
The schedule is my despot and I’m its slave, all the more chained to it because I never manage to ‘catch up’ on the backlog. (c)
Q:
My father watches as I fill my glass: he wants to be sure I have as much alcohol as the workmen. (c)
Q:
because I’m training to be a superhuman, sickness is inadmissible...The same goes for pain; I’m not allowed to feel it. (c)
Q:
I sustain myself on images of salvation, and strong, charming heroes. I have an increasingly powerful need for books, which throw a glimmer of light into my darkness.(c)
Q:
‘I am not from any time or of any place; beyond time and place, my spiritual being lives in eternal existence.’ This is how my father likes to describe himself.(c)