Novel – 150 pages – my copy (paperback; 2008) found in Starbucks, Plymouth in the summer of 2009
- 3 nods
Irene Nemirovsky’s life was one cut tragically short, but a life full of adventure and of great talent. Born in Tsarist Russia in 1903, her family fled the east for France after Lenin and his Bolsheviks took control of power in 1918; she later became a successful novelist before the Germans attacked in 1940; leading to her arrest and death in confinement in Auschwitz before her fortieth year. In recent years, her biographers and family have un-earthed several unfinished novels, such as Suite Francias and the book under scrutiny in this review, Fire In The Blood: and what good finds they have proved to be.
Fire In The Blood is set in rural France of the 1930s, centring in the first person perspective of Silvio who watches from afar the dramatic entanglements of the family and friends around him. Always contemplative and slightly rueful, the elderly Silvio reflects upon the fire that once ran in his veins, forcing him to roam the world for adventure, now commenting on it being extinguished. He notes that he, like those in old age, ‘have renounced the vain attempts of youth to adapt the world to their desires. They have failed and, now, they can relax’ (p.22). Silvio reacts to the events around him with philosophic remarks that serve not to flatter, but instead to add realism to all situations: ‘No one deserves to be admired so passionately. Just as no one deserves to be despised with too much indignation’ (p.103) he tells his troubled niece. Yet this equilibrium is shattered with the story’s ending revelations, when Silvio remembers the old fire that once consumed him: ‘That was what we wanted. To burn, to be consumed, to devour our days just as fire devours the forest’ (p.152).
The book is short – just over one hundred and fifty pages – while Nemirovsky’s style is sparse and simple; yet accompanying this is her beautiful description of the quiet rural life where ‘the days drag on while the years fly by’, with ‘long hours spent sitting by the fire doing nothing, not reading, nor drinking, not even dreaming’ (p.35).
The novel does not follow a strict narrative of noting all actions, just the main events over a couple of years from Silvio’s viewpoint. Though this may indeed be due to its full lack of completion by the author, which leaves many question marks. What changes would have Nemirosvky made? Furthermore, the book’s rather abrupt ending leaves the reader unfulfilled.
Fire In The Blood is an enjoyable novel and an excellent introduction to a talented author. It is a wonder that it was sitting still for over fifty years, waiting for the day when readers would devour its pages. A credit to her biographers and family, as well as to Nemirovsky herself.
