
I decided to read a book by Annie Ernaux, winner of the Nobel Prize for 2022. Getting Lost, a diary from 1988 to 1990, shows Ernaux’s obsession with a married Soviet diplomat in Paris.
I confess I’m baffled by Ernaux’s obsession with this guy. Ernaux calls him “S” and he shows up at her door drunk most of the time. During sex, S talks about Stalin. S is younger than Ernaux–who is 48 at the beginning of this affair–so there’s a Mrs. Robinson and Benjamin vibe.
“11:45 P.M. He came and stayed five hours. It had been a long time since I’d experienced such perfection, and since we’d been so attuned to each other. Made love, four times, in different ways. (Bedroom, anal sex after many long and slow caresses—downstairs, sofa, missionary very tender too–bedroom, so moving: ‘I’m going to put my sperm on your belly’–the sofa, doggy style, so perfectly in tune.) An infinite need for the other’s body, his presence.” (p. 109)
And Annie Ernaux can be unintentionally funny. “I realized that I’d lost a contact lens,” Ernaux writes. “I found it on his penis.” (p. 33)
Even after a long sex session, Ernaux immediately starts fantasizing about their next encounter. From the minimal facts Ernaux reveals about her lover, he seems like a creep. Not a lot of long conversations between these two: it’s “Let’s Get It On” time whenever they’re together.
Getting Lost is a far cry from one of Deb’s romance novels. It’s almost clinical in the description of the sexual encounters.
The picture I get from reading Annie Ernaux’s diary of these years shows a woman trying to deal with the aging process by engaging in a relationship with a dubious fellow (he could be K.G.B. but Ernaux doesn’t seem to mind) like a compulsive cougar on the prowl.
Annie Ernaux refers to her son, her ex-husband, and her writing career. But, Getting Lost mostly centers around Ernaux getting lost with her Soviet sex toy. GRADE: C








