Title: Forgotten on Sunday
Author: Valérie Perrin
Year Published: 2015
Genre: Literary Fiction/Women’s Fiction
Setting: France
My Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐(3.5)
Forgotten on Sunday: A Blurb
Justine Niege is an orphaned 21-year-old retirement home worker. She lives with her grandparents and cousin Jules, whom she considers a brother. Her days are routine, although she finds enjoyment in listening to the stories of her residents–particularly those of Hélène, her favorite patient. As time goes on, Justine and Hélène form a deep bond, and Justine starts to document Hélène’s love story.
At the same time, Justine begins to grow suspicious about the car crash that killed her and her cousin’s parents more than fifteen years before. While diving into Hélène’s past, she begins to step into her own, searching for answers she was never given.
At just under 300 pages, Forgotten on Sunday isn’t a light read, but it is a fulfilling one that explores the importance of the past, memory, love, and connection.
My Thoughts
Across Italy, Perrin’s newest novel, Tata, was in almost every bookstore window for months. I finally got around to looking for it right before a trip, when, naturally, I couldn’t find it. In its place, I borrowed one of her previous books, Forgotten on Sunday.
Forgotten on Sunday was interesting to me for a few reasons. The first was how well it fit into my conception of modern French literature. I’ll admit that I have not read widely in French literature, and I have only ever read English translations. Yet when I consider two of the other French books that I have recently read–Connemara and In Paris with You–I am surprised at how similar they feel, specifically in terms of voice, characters, and mood.
Despite being very different books (one follows a woman in her failing marriage, one is a modern and poetic retelling of Eugene Onegin, and one studies three stories connected to a nursing home in a small town), they retained many of the same characteristics.
A Brief (Limited) Look at French Literature
In all three, there is a distance between the reader and the main character, even when told in first person. In contrast to most American literature, and even the Italian literature I am familiar with, it doesn’t feel very “voice driven,” and we don’t know the character on an intimate level. This isn’t to say that the characters aren’t well developed; they are. Instead of being the focus, however, they’re a means to tell a story. There’s just a wall there that prevents us from really getting close to them, and a certain degree of melancholy reflection and intellectualization that takes some of the more dramatic emotion out of it.
There is also a higher degree of moral ambiguity. All three of these books include love affairs and different understandings of love when compared to Italian or American texts, and they lack the same visceral, dramatic emotion. Instead, there’s almost a blasé acceptance of things. I don’t have enough personal familiarity with French culture to understand the degree to which their general norms (not just stereotypes) are reflected in literature. However, I’d be curious to dive in.
The Translation
With everything written above, I will give one caveat: I did not read it in French. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about writing in different languages, translation, and how it impacts our perception. Part of what I didn’t love about this novel was the writing style (at times). I can’t tell if this was how the author originally wrote it or if something got changed in translation while trying to convey the rhythm in English. There were several choppy sentences and vulgar bits that I simply didn’t love. I noticed a similar writing style in Connemara, and even sometimes in In Paris with You. I wish I could have read it in the original language to see what changes.
The Plot
This is where I became conflicted on whether to give Forgotten on Sunday three or four stars. There are really three plots. The first is Justine’s as a nursing aide. The second is Hélène’s story, which Justine is documenting. The third is the story of what happened to Justine and her cousin/brother Jules’s parents. Personally, I wasn’t too taken with the second storyline. I appreciated the importance of Justine listening, recording, and honoring the memory of an older person. However, I feel like I’ve read so many World War Two-era stories at this point that it no longer has the same hold. If you enjoy historical fiction, however, you’ll absolutely love this part.
The present storylines were much more interesting to me, especially Justine’s inquiry into what happened to her and Jules’s parents. For me, this was what really kept the plot moving forward.
My only wish was that the stories overlapped a bit more. There were a few times they did, but at other times, it felt like Hélène’s story, while critical to the overall message and Justine’s plot, was a bit far from the parents-inquiry arc.
What This Book Taught Me About Myself
I reflected on what I wanted to rate Forgotten on Sunday, and I struggled with it. Apart from some of the choppiness and vulgarity stylistically, there was nothing wrong with it. The themes explored were important, the conclusion was fantastic, and it felt like a well-rounded story. What was written resonated, and even with the translation, there were many beautifully worded passages that I savored. I loved that Perrin focused on older people, their memories and legacies, and how so many people do try to forget them in nursing homes. All of this was explored in a touching and poignant manner.
Yet, despite the short chapters and easy writing style, the book felt slow to me. I thought about it. It wasn’t that nothing was happening; it may not have been action-filled, per se, but there was still a point. I’ve enjoyed several other stories where they were more thoughtful explorations of a topic, whether they were character-centric or plot-centric.
In the end, I realized that what was lacking for me was the flair for the dramatic. This is a personal preference, naturally, but this is what I love so much about American and Italian literature. There’s more warmth there, more intimacy–even between the reader and the characters. Of course I love telenovelas and that palpable energy within a story, but more than that, I enjoy the feeling that a story is pulsing with life.
Don’t get me wrong; this book was excellent and touching, but it still felt a bit cold to me. I’ll continue to explore literature from all cultures. It’s just helped me to realize what makes a book feel like “home” for me.
A Final Word
Forgotten on Sunday is perfect for people who love literary, contemplative stories with protagonists in less-often spotlighted roles (similar to An American Marriage in that sense). It was because of this focus on older people, their stories, and the people who care for them that the book really resonated with me, and why I would recommend it to others.
If you’re interested in more French literature, the Library of Congress has compiled this list of modern literature. Feel free to check it out!
