Frustrating! 1

Why is it frustrating? Because often we expect something else and different. His style resembles him, I think, although it fight against this ... His style is very cold you can feel successful, very bourgeois, it is self-censorship, which is a shame for the modern reader but must be very harmful at the time of publication, if it had not been ...
But guess what: it claims a freedom both individual and political, anti bourgeois, anti-conformist ... She does not speak of little arrangements with Sartre (the "small family", trios ...). If we did not know we would guess nothing. She ferrari hands yet, a bomb: Associate of Philosophy at 21 years in 1929 (terrible year), in love with one of the greatest philosophers of his time, it is beautiful, determined, free, rebellious, supremely intelligent. .... well no. She rolled her ferrari sometimes the image of a 2 cv ... It slows ...

This book is sometimes interesting, sometimes boring to die, sometimes exciting, sometimes frustrating, sometimes fascinating. The shape is a story, not a newspaper, except for the war years. Sometimes it evokes characters without anecdotally interest. Sometimes real historical characters so either anecdotal or by issuing a judgment. And then it goes on. It leaves us hungry. It is not clear what this character has taught us, famous or not, and if so, it is not known why she drags no more. It zaps. She said both too little (about books she reads - example: Céline), and too much: his travel descriptions are sometimes tourist catalog, the slow delivery of her first novel is really, really unnecessary and off-putting to me , except for someone who would pass a thesis about its genesis.

The problem is that this book tells the young Simone de Beauvoir, and it was written by the respected Simone de Beauvoir, world famous and blackberry. One has the impression that it seeks to promote self: she knew everyone saw all the countries of Europe, all ate the most delicious dishes, seen all the dumb then talkies, enjoy all music ... We feel the high opinion of herself that she had all her life, even younger. Yet it remains clear: she admits not having understood the war in Spain, not wanting to regard war as inevitable, and have search endlessly through the selfish pleasure of free youth.

I would conclude that despite some flashes alas too rare, happiness is not here literary, but historical.

But hey, she did what she wanted, and that's just my opinion ...