This is a different, American translation of "The Sea Wall", probably one of Duras' best novels, and deals with her the period she spent in North China. The story, similar to that represented in the book and the film "The Lover" deals directly with her affair with the son of a rich Chinese industrialist, and the effects of this relationship upon the entire family

Hiroshima, Mon amour is a film that explores the idea of memory: what is to forget, and what is to remember? What is experience and what is reconstruction? Do we have total control over these notions, and do we need to have control over them? With the Hiroshima bombing tragedy as the layout of the film, Resnais and Duras mock the European (and maybe the Japanese themselves through the museum and other memorial things that they built) understanding of what had really happen there. Universally, the story then focus on the conflict of understanding that the Riva character is suffering in when she gets herself involved with the Okada character, thus revealing her past to him as they both struggle into creating their definition of what love is. Is it enough to compare one's suffering to others' when their sufferings are more 'horrific' in nature? Not only that this film tries to answer this question but it also brings out lots of other questions on our common humanity. A complex and very intellectual film, but one should be warned (or should be aware of its implication from Resnais and Duras) of the passive nature of time from the Riva character's subjectivity too when watching the film.

Hiroshima, Mon Amour is the screenplay for the classic French film directed by Alain Resnais. This is one of the few screenplays I truly enjoy, as Hiroshima is a wonderful story about remembering and forgetting set in the context of post-nuclear war and love.

True to the classic stream-of-consciousness style of Duras, this screenplay is a highly emotional account of a French woman's journey to Hiroshima to film an anti-war movie and the affair with a Japanese man that ensues. Throughout the course of the affair, the woman is struck with the memory of her German lover during WWII and the insanity that his death brought on.

In many ways, this is Duras at her finest. She has an uncanny ability to take specific stories and bring them to a level of universality as far as human emotion and circumstance are concerned. This is a powerful and riveting tale that is not to be missed.

After almost a decade of producing short documentaries, Alain Resnais made his debut as a feature-length filmmaker with the adaptation of Marguerite Duras's Hiroshima Mon Amour (1959). And what a debut! Arguably one of the most innovative films in the history of cinema, and a masterpiece of the French Nouvelle Vague, Hiroshima is a love story, not about love, but about memories, time, and the dissolution of memories in time. Duras' s screenplay flows and ebbs with poem-like rhythms. Sasha Vierney's photography is stunning, and paints the reality of the tragic love affair. The music is as hauntingly complex as the film itself. And finally, there are the evocative, convincing performances of Emmanuelle Riva (Elle), in her film debut, and Eiji Okada (Lui).

The story, at first glance, simple: Fourteen years after the dropping of the first atomic bomb, Elle goes to Hiroshima to take part in an anti-war film. On her penultimate night in Hiroshima, Elle meets Lui, a Japanese architect. She returns to her hotel with him. A chance encounter. An ordinary affair.

Or is it?

Resnais's Hiroshima started as a documentary effort, and in fact, much of the original footage of the aftermath of Hiroshima's bombing is used in the opening fifteen minutes of the finished film. It was this same opening sequence that puzzled many reviewers, who listened in confusion to Elle's description of her experience in Hiroshima, as Lui apparently contradicts her every statement. Several tentative interpretations were proposed for this apparent, although improbable, argument. Why should new lovers argue like an old married couple? The song "Je t'aime... moi non plus," by Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin comes to mind. We ask ourselves, have the reviewers never experienced deep sexual rapture?

The scene that follows the opening is the key to the rest of the film. Lui is still asleep on his right side, with his right arm outstretched behind him. Elle enters the room. Her glance travels down his arm, to his hand. At that moment, briefly, the arm and the hand are transformed. They belong to someone else -- a dead German soldier. The door to the rest of the story is now ajar.

Later, as Lui asks, "What did Hiroshima mean to you in France?" she connects to her thoughts of her first, tragic love of a German soldier in Nevers. Elle has suffered a crippling emotional wound, buried deep in her subconscious, since that time. Little by little, she reveals her secret love affair with the German, first in bits and pieces. As the film progresses, Elle's memories become more precise, more urgent, more intrusive, until eventually the flood gates of her remembrance burst open (a scene in a bar, the night before her departure from Hiroshima). Lui's transformation is complete -- he is now her German lover ("Tu"), not only in her mind, but also in his. The living memory has fused the past with the present.

As the story unfolds, past and present images of Nevers and Hiroshima mix and merge in a continuum. The powerful music by Giovanni Fusco and George Delarue guides us through this highly emotional, somewhat chaotic journey. A Japanese-type music accompanies the Hiroshima scenes, while a French-type music follows the memories from Nevers. But, here also, some confusion exists, and at the climax of the story in the bar, a simple Japanese jukebox music links Nevers to the present.

As the movie ends, Elle realizes she will again experience the same desperation and loneliness of separation. Lui can only speculate what is in store for him. What both know with a certainty, though, is that only memories will remain.

Resnais and Duras show us that without memory, the present has no foundation, and time cannot truly exist. Without memory, it is impossible to understand time or events, as they have no context or framework. Resnais and Duras force us to consider the awful and depressing thought that with the disappearance of our memories, our very existence and soul will be obliterated.

Emily L. is one of the required books for my current English Elective course, Post-Modern Fiction.

There are two main characters in the book, a person called "I" and another "You", both French. This couple is observing another couple in a bar, and based on what snippets of conversation they hear, they construct a story around the latter couple.

This book is fiction, no doubt, but soon you begin to question which parts of the story that "I" constructed are based on true observation, and which parts are pure fiction.

A fiction within a fiction, Emily L. draws you in completely. This is a translation, but it does not interfere with the gist, tone, or mood of the story. Some nuances might have been lost due to translation, but that does not prevent you from enjoying the book.

After all, it does take a lot for a "general fiction"-category book to hook an avid sci-fi/fantasy reader like Yours Truly.

There are few authors as capable as Marguerite Duras. This book really, really excited me. Its a ridiculously short read, so please do yourself a favor and check it out. If you can't find it on amazon[.com] or in your local library or bookstore (I'm told it is out-of-print), try Powell's or Strand - they at least should have copies.

In "Emily L" our narrator sits (and sots) in a French port cafe with her lover and closely studies a particular English couple. Before long our narrator is narrating, to her lover and to us her readers, a story about this couple's history, particularly the complex and tragic story of the English woman. What remains unclear throughout the novel is how much of this story is based on real information gathered by our narrator and how much is pure fiction, a story within the story. All indications seem to point to a near total fiction. Moreover, just how much of what we are told can we as readers use in our own parallel study of the narrator and her relationship? That question is arguably the most important one in this novel.

"It began with fear," the novel begins (3). The narrator begins by, naturally, describing the setting and introducing herself and her lover as characters. But she really doesn't tell us much (or anything actually) about either herself or her companion, except that they are both writers. Very early in the novel she tells her lover that she has plans to write about their relationship. "I said I'd decided to write our story.... I was going to write the story of the affair we'd had together, the one that was still there and taking forever to die" (12). He's not thrilled by this suggestion, but then neither is she. Here is the very heart of that fear mentioned in the novels first words, and this fear reveals itself fully by the very next page. "No. What I'm writing now is something else that will somehow include it - something much broader perhaps. But to write about it directly - no, that's all over, I couldn't do it" (13). And there it is. Nowhere in this novel do we read her own actual story in terms we can read as literally *her story*. The story we do read from that page on to the end, the story of the English couple, comes in as something of a surrogate story. Our narrator explains: "The book will tell the truth. Whether we said it ourselves or heard it said through a wall, someone other than you to someone other than me, it will be all the same as far as the book is concerned, so long as you heard it at the same time I did and in the same place. In the same fear" (16).

The driving force of "Emily L" is the subjective nature of the story we're told. As our narrator is herself a novelist, "Emily L" is ultimately a novel about writing. Reading this novel we must constantly question the reliability and transparency of our narrator/author. How much of this is fiction? How much is truth? Whose truth? Why the fear? Can we learn anything about that fear in this novel? If not, is a knowledge that there is a fear enough of a story in itself? And are we satisfied, as readers, by not getting the whole story? How much more interesting is the 'barrier' story we get than the actual story? These matters, these questions, are the life and blood of the novel. The story of the English couple is compelling all by itself, but frankly its just the mechanics of Duras's infinitely clever and utterly profound novel.

Duras wrote this novel right in the middle of France's struggle with the war of independence in Indochina. That is where this novel takes place. It is a compelling, well illstrated, and masterfully composed piece of writing that is actually semi-autobiographical (many events of Duras' life appear as events in the novel). It is based upon a family's constant struggle with the endless difficulties with life in the country and their many and frequent bouts with the constant desperation that is portrayed throught the entire course of the book. It is a wonderful book to read and (undoubtedly) enjoy.

The Sea Wall is a fine example of Duras' cinematic and romantic writing style. Like The Lover, this novel is semi-autobiographical, and is set in French colonial Indochine.It is the story of a poor widow's desperate fight against the world she is trapped in, exemplified by the sea wall she constructs to stop the yearly encroachment of the sea on her useless concession of land. Although her efforts are futile, she bravely, or sometimes absurdly, maintains hope in the midst of poverty and her children's growing restlessness.

Not having studied anything about the lives of famous authors, I found "Writers' Houses" intriguing nevertheless. Francesca Premoli-Droulers presents a nice "pictorial tour" of the homes and properties, and does a great job of describing the emotional connection between the artists' lives and the places where they created their literary works. The first-rate photography, by Erica Lennard, is a superb complement to the text.

Each of the 21 homes (including that of Marguerite Duras, who wrote the prologue) is presented over eight to ten pages--with an equal number of color photos--of reverent writing and stories about what brought the author to that particular home, the inspiration created by the residence and its grounds, and the goings-on of the day. It's excellent reading.

Photographer Lennard more often than not does a good job of capturing the natural lighting to give depth and "feel" to the interior spaces. My favorite shots are the ones of doorways, stairways and porches. There are also close-ups of desks, books, and various nicknacks, which add intimacy and personality to the pictures, although perspective is occasionally lost from being a little too close up. Also, it would have been perfect to see some aerial photos of the extent of the grounds and the character of their settings, especially for the Dossi, Faulkner, Hemingway, Hesse and Moravia homes. Still, this is a first-rate addition to anyone's library.

Duras introduces this photo essay with her trademark verse. Her style of stating her perceptions and then restating thoughts in her legendary flip-flop manner, cement their importance and leave a lasting impression. The photos are magnificent. They seem to represent the essence of the writers: from personal belongings scattered about, to the sparce quarters envisioned surrounding a creator at work. I had visited Ernest Hemmingway's home in Cuba and immediately recognized his Key West home as his. A fine addition to anyone's library, this book appeals to the artist and romantic in all of us.

The Lover is DROP DEAD GORGEAUS. This novel is an emotional masterpiece that is a true story. The North China Lover is another book by Marguerite Duras and is also based on that ravishing affair. There was a dazzling motion picture of this novel that is masterful and I have never seen a film in my life that adapted a novel so well because in the exact same words and what the characters did were just outstanding on the silver screen. In the film the characters were the young Marguerite profoundly played by Jane March (who looks exactly like Marguerite Duras) and the man from cholon china passionately played by Tony Leung. The Lover is the best book ever, The best film ever, and the best soundtrack ever by Gabriel Yared which is beautiful and is outstanding for the book and the movie. This SUPERIOR MASTERPIECE by Marguerite Duras is about the intense,the passionate,the unforgettable, the haunting,and deeply forbidden affair between a poor fifteen year old french girl with serious problems back at her home in Sadec Vietnam and a wealthy engaged older chinese man in prewar Indochina. Duras' writing is so deep she paints the pictures of the intense, perfectly (and passionately) explicit and torridly scandelous experiances of the real lovers that are like nothing you've ever seen or experienced. This is a stunningly touching achievement that captures and embraces the incredible essence in sexual awakening,human love, and the deepest passion we all have inside. The Lover is like our deepest most intense fantasy put into words and it makes you feel much better because this happened. Anyone who is looking for a deeply erotic, melodramatic,amazing,sensously mesmerizing, and gripping story of mature love and sensual desire combined with continuously over the top erotica it will surely blow you away. I completely reccomend this breathtaking masterpiece.

A curiosity of between a fiction and a true story makes me read this book. I really like "the Lover", it's one of my favorite book to recommand others, even though I don't like much Duras.

The writing is so short, like pieces of puzzle, there is no order to explain. Duras wrote what she felt, thought spontaneously in a paragragh after another. This book is descriptive and the flow of feelings is so delicate. Especially, the reflections about the life that Duras explained in this story, are truly profound and even sorrowful for me.

There is no tension, no exposed conflict, the story moves so still like the calm ocean. The tranquility in rich thoughtful description, that's why I like this novel.

I have read this book 126 times. Every time I read it I learn something new. A lot has been said about the power of its content, the story of passion and longing and the mysteries of love and death. But its true brilliance comes from its form, the WAY in which the story is told. A single image is unfolded and within it we find all the mysteries of life opening and closing, coming clear for a brief moment, then vanishing. I do not think any other book has the same form as this one. This is why it is brilliant. Duras created something utterly unique. All the 'rules' of structure are tossed away. Passages flow one into the next and the connection between them is both seamless and invisible. It may seem random, or intuitive, at first, but as you look deeper you will find there is a deliberate order whose subtlety is unsurpassed, a work of power.
Another interesting point for writers comes from comparing this book with Duras' earlier book, 'The North China Lover'. This other book tells the same story, without any of the depth or power of 'The Lover'. I believe it was a first draft, and 'The Lover' is what became of that first story after years and years of editing and distillation. The contrast between the two is a good lesson in how and why to edit what you write.

Similar in some ways to "10:30 on a Summer Night," this book is about an alcoholic woman taking her son to piano lessons and on the way home she develops an odd relationship with a stranger in a café where a man has just killed his lover. As with many of Duras' books, one shouldn't expect to the affair to culminate in physical love or if it does, it probably won't be particulary pleasant or satisfying. For those looking for a realistic story where things don't necessarily go right, I recommend this book along with "10:30 on a Summer Night," also written by Duras.

In the opening chapters of this book, I expected a real murder mystery type novel but was soon disappointed which is why I think I didn't like this book that much. However, I think that if I didn't have that expectation I would have liked it a lot more. Maybe if I let it sit for a few years and then read it again, I'll enjoy it more the second time around.

I sent in a review relating this book to music but not sure if i did it under my account name or not?

An encounter in a cafe brings a man and woman together who are both obsessed with a blue eyed, black haired man.
Each filling a need the other has without touching, yet, "Blue Eyes,Black Hair" is so erotic in it's content that it is indecent, tainted, disturbing.
At times it was difficult to absorb and I wanted to close the book, but the writing and style was so unusual that I was intrigued and outraged at the same time.
Duras gives the reader an atmosphere of darkness,weeping, lonliness, and death.
The woman wears black silk over her face... a metaphor for shame...feelings of loss, hiding what she truly is or is not.

- He walks around the white sheets and along the walls. He asks her not to sleep, to remain naked and without the black silk. He walks around her body- ...from Blue Eyes, Black Hair...

This image reminded me of a dog circling his prey, not knowing whether to kill it, play with it, or eat it. The man does all of this.

Obsession is a sickness. Duras sets the tone. A room where the man and woman meet to weep, sleep, wrapping themselves in black silk and white sheets. Two people who are lost...obsessed with one another's obsession. Until finally...the obsession becomes one and the man and woman become the same person.

Note...This is my second book by Duras. I must admit, I've never read an author like her before. The imagery is so strong that she can use less words. I feel as if I have been inside the room myself and I don't like it!

Blue Eyes, Black Hair might not be recommended for a first-time reader of Duras. The book is not flowing or visual or erotic in the manner of The Lover. It seems more a continuation of Duras' literary themes rather than a novel that stands by itself. It might be of more interest to devotees of Duras' greater body of work than to the casual reader. In it, a man sees another man, briefly, through a window, and feels an attraction as strong as love. Weeping in a cafe, later the same night, he meets a young woman with black hair and blue eyes who reminds him very much of the man he saw and desired but never met. The two acknowledge to one another that they are both lonely, and the man asks the woman to go with him to his room by the sea. He wants to watch her sleep. The novel is basically a story of the transferal of desire and the lack of communion between two individuals. The book explores the idea of objectifying a love, of two people wanting things so different that their desires somehow become similar, and of feelings involved in close emotional relationships between people of different sexual orientations. It addresses the themes of loneliness, the exploration of desire and despair, of distance and fear, and of the pain in never really knowing - emotionally or physically - the desired other.

I picked this up on a whim. I've enjoyed Duras in the past and it was a story about travel and love - perfect. Turns out, it was an excellent novel.

The beginning felt slow, but that's because Duras has a tendency to describe things so dispassionately that it feels dull. Later in the novel, all those descriptions had laid a necessary foundation for events and conversations that would have seemed completely disjointed without a solid background. The plot sounds like a soap opera: man on vacation decides to leave boring girlfriend and dull job meets a rich widow sailing around the world in search of long lost lover. However, and thank goodness, it's not that simple, and not nearly that sappy. Both man and woman aggressively resist falling in love. Neither of them want to, but they do, but they don't.... Plus, there are a handful of colorful characters they meet and travel with along the way.

It's a character-intense novel that uses a simple plot as a basis to develop complicated personalities and relationships. Special bonus, it's out of print - so you can read something unusual and spark conversation yourself!

I recommend this for folks who like to analyze and then re-analyze followed by over-analyze life's happenings and participants. Be prepared to not want to put it down towards the end!

A beautiful, haunting story. Love/obsession that may be only what it's perceived to be, or maybe not. By far the best of Duras' early works. A book I knew I'd have to read again before I even finished the first time.

Two men and two women, all mentally ill, meet in a desolate French convalescent hotel and become their own tiny insular society. They spend much of the book engaging in conversations and semierotic acts which seem utterly pregnant with meaning despite lacking any sort of meaningful foundation whatsoever. This book is built around a whirling nihilistic emptiness which grows more and more pronounced as it proceeds. In the final pages the void roars in every word. Minimal, terrifying.

The interview with Duras that constitutes the second half of the book ranges from the provocative to the opaque.