Dear readers, Recently, some colleagues visited my rather maximalist, overstuffed apartment, and one commented that the experience was like being inside my brain. Indeed: It’s a strange place, where lurid thrillers sit next to philosophical essays that are piled up with 1950s teen malt-shop romances. The two books that follow feel right at home. Both are French-themed and both deal, in a sense, with sex. But they are different enough that I think they’ll appeal to very different readers — or one strange and insatiable one, ideally with a weakness for patterned textiles and the odd thrift-store bust of Molière. —Sadie “My Husband,” by Maud Ventura; translated by Emma RamadanFiction, 2021 (in French) and 2023 (in English)
Although it’s been available in English for several years, Ventura’s idiosyncratic debut novel recently broke through to become something of a lit-girl phenomenon — unusual for a book in translation that defies easy classification, and certainly enough to pique my interest. Many have called it a thriller (it appeared under that rubric in our pages, no doubt courtesy of its expertly drawn tension), but really, very little “happens.” I think Oprah Daily hedged their bets well when they described it as “a riveting emotional thriller.” This is the story of a beautiful Parisienne who is obsessed with her husband. Chilly, remote and correct to the outside world — indeed, to her own family — the heroine devotes her entire inner life to cataloging (and recording, and filming) his movements, his words, his infractions, his shortcomings: anything that might give a clue to his emotional state. We witness what seems to be a normal week in their life; and while there is a frenzied quality to the experience, it also recalls the worst jealousy and insecurity any one of us has felt, heightened to an excruciating and often comic degree. What, if anything, will happen? As we are pulled into our narrator’s myopic world, the stakes of her marriage become as exciting as any murder mystery. And Ramadan’s translation is so deft and engaging that you’ll find it hard to put down. I rarely say this, but: Believe the hype. Read if you like: The movie “Vertigo”; “The Hypnotist’s Love Story,” by Liane Moriarty; “Bonjour Tristesse,” by Françoise Sagan. “Grandes Horizontales: The Lives and Legends of Four Nineteenth-Century Courtesans,” by Virginia RoundingNonfiction, 2003
I started reading this because I’d gone down a Charles Baudelaire rabbit hole and become intrigued by his tortured relationship with the famed courtesan Apollonie Sabatier, a.k.a. “La Présidente.” Rounding’s absorbing group biography profiles Sabatier along with her fellow muses Marie Duplessis (the inspiration for the novel “La Dame aux Camélias”), Cora Pearl and La Païva (née Esther Lachmann), as well as the many famous men — including Napoleon III and Alexandre Dumas fils — who vied for their favors. These women had little in common, save that each rose to the top of the demimonde and wielded the greatest power available to her; each is a distinct and fascinating character in her own right. Rounding paints a colorful picture of their rivalries, elaborate beauty routines and extravagant rituals, without overlooking the harsh realities of life on the margins. She also provides a comprehensive taxonomy of 19th-century French sex workers: Besides the grandes horizontales who made up the aristocracy of mistresses, there were filles soumises (legal prostitutes who submitted to humiliating state health exams) and their lawbreaking counterparts the filles insoumises; filles en carte (who had several protectors); the working-class grisettes; the femmes galantes (basically, just women having affairs); and the lorette, a sort of polyamorous kept woman described by the 19th-century author Henri Murger as “an impertinent hybrid” and “a mediocre beauty.” This is a valuable social history that more people should know, and a fascinating read besides. You can easily find it used — or do what I did, and borrow it from the library — but it needs reissuing! Read if you like: Emile Zola (especially “Nana”); “Les Miserables” in any form; Baudelaire’s poetry; and, of course, impertinent hybrids. (My new favorite phrase.) We hope you’ve enjoyed this newsletter, which is made possible through subscriber support. Subscribe to The New York Times. Friendly reminder: Check your local library for books! Many libraries allow you to reserve copies online. Like this email? Sign-up here or forward it to your friends. Have a suggestion or two on how we can improve it? Let us know at books@nytimes.com. Plunge further into books at The New York Times or our reading recommendations.
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