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From the acclaimed author of Suite Française comes Némirovsky's third novel, a masterpiece of French literature, available for the first time in Canada.
Le Bal is a penetrating and incisive book set in early twentieth century France. At its heart is the tension between mother and daughter. The nouveau-riche Kampfs, desperate to become members of the social elite, decide to throw a ball to launch themselves into high society. For selfish reasons Mrs. Kampf forbids her teenage daughter, Antoinette, to attend the ball and banishes her to the laundry room. In an unpremeditated fury of revolt and despair, Antoinette takes a swift and horrible revenge. A cruel, funny and tender examination of class differences, Le Bal describes the torments of childhood with rare accuracy.
Also included in this volume is Snow in Autumn, in which Némirovsky pays homage to Chekov and chronicles the life of a devoted servant following her masters as they flee Revolutionary Moscow and emigrate to a life of hardship in Paris. "Le Bal established Némirovsky as one of the most talented and celebrated authors of her day."
-The Guardian (UK) Irène Némirovsky was born in Kiev in 1903. In 1918 her family fled the Russian Revolution for France where she became a bestselling novelist, author of David Golder, Le Bal and other works published in her lifetime, as well as the posthumous Suite Française. She died in Auschwitz in 1942. The first French publication of Fire in the Blood, by the publishers who discovered and published Suite Française, is in March 2007. 1
Madame Kampf walked into the study and slammed the door behind her with such force that a gust of air made the crystal beads on the chandelier jingle with the pure, light sound of small bells. But Antoinette didn't stop reading; she was bent so far forward over her desk that her hair brushed the pages of her book. For a moment, Madame Kampf watched her daughter without saying anything; then she went to stand in front of her, arms crossed over her chest.
'You know, Antoinette, you could stop what you're doing when you see your mother,' she barked. 'Is your bottom glued to that chair? What refined manners you have! Where's Miss Betty?'
From the adjoining room came the sound of a sewing machine, punctuated by snatches of song, crooned in a youthful but rather poor voice: 'What shall I do, what shall I do when you'll be gone away ...'
'Miss Betty,' Madame Kampf shouted, 'come in here.'
'Yes, Mrs Kampf,' the young woman replied in English, slipping through the half-open door. She had rosy cheeks and soft, frightened eyes; her hair was gathered in a honey-coloured bun that sat low on her neck, framing her small round head.
'I believe I hired you,' Madame Kampf began harshly, 'to look after and educate my daughter, and not so you could make yourself dresses. Does Antoinette not know she is meant to stand up when her mother comes into the room?'
'Oh, Ann-toinette! How can you?' said Miss Betty in a kind of sad twitter.
Antoinette was standing up now, balancing awkwardly on one leg. She was a tall, lacklustre girl of fourteen, with the pale face common to girls of her age - a face so thin and taut that it seems, to adults, like a round, featureless blotch. Dark circles were under her lowered eyelids, and her mouth was small and tight. The fourteen-year-old body ... budding breasts that strain against the tight schoolgirl's uniform, that are painful and embarrassing to her delicate, childlike body; big feet and long arms like sticks of French bread that end in red hands and ink-stained fingers (and which one day, who knows, might turn into the most beautiful arms in the world); a spindly neck; short, dull hair that is dry and fine ...
'Don't you see, Antoinette that your manners are driving me to despair? Sit down again. I'm going to come back in, and this time you will do me the honour of standing up immediately,
Le Bal is a penetrating and incisive book set in early twentieth century France. At its heart is the tension between mother and daughter. The nouveau-riche Kampfs, desperate to become members of the social elite, decide to throw a ball to launch themselves into high society. For selfish reasons Mrs. Kampf forbids her teenage daughter, Antoinette, to attend the ball and banishes her to the laundry room. In an unpremeditated fury of revolt and despair, Antoinette takes a swift and horrible revenge. A cruel, funny and tender examination of class differences, Le Bal describes the torments of childhood with rare accuracy.
Also included in this volume is Snow in Autumn, in which Némirovsky pays homage to Chekov and chronicles the life of a devoted servant following her masters as they flee Revolutionary Moscow and emigrate to a life of hardship in Paris. "Le Bal established Némirovsky as one of the most talented and celebrated authors of her day."
-The Guardian (UK) Irène Némirovsky was born in Kiev in 1903. In 1918 her family fled the Russian Revolution for France where she became a bestselling novelist, author of David Golder, Le Bal and other works published in her lifetime, as well as the posthumous Suite Française. She died in Auschwitz in 1942. The first French publication of Fire in the Blood, by the publishers who discovered and published Suite Française, is in March 2007. 1
Madame Kampf walked into the study and slammed the door behind her with such force that a gust of air made the crystal beads on the chandelier jingle with the pure, light sound of small bells. But Antoinette didn't stop reading; she was bent so far forward over her desk that her hair brushed the pages of her book. For a moment, Madame Kampf watched her daughter without saying anything; then she went to stand in front of her, arms crossed over her chest.
'You know, Antoinette, you could stop what you're doing when you see your mother,' she barked. 'Is your bottom glued to that chair? What refined manners you have! Where's Miss Betty?'
From the adjoining room came the sound of a sewing machine, punctuated by snatches of song, crooned in a youthful but rather poor voice: 'What shall I do, what shall I do when you'll be gone away ...'
'Miss Betty,' Madame Kampf shouted, 'come in here.'
'Yes, Mrs Kampf,' the young woman replied in English, slipping through the half-open door. She had rosy cheeks and soft, frightened eyes; her hair was gathered in a honey-coloured bun that sat low on her neck, framing her small round head.
'I believe I hired you,' Madame Kampf began harshly, 'to look after and educate my daughter, and not so you could make yourself dresses. Does Antoinette not know she is meant to stand up when her mother comes into the room?'
'Oh, Ann-toinette! How can you?' said Miss Betty in a kind of sad twitter.
Antoinette was standing up now, balancing awkwardly on one leg. She was a tall, lacklustre girl of fourteen, with the pale face common to girls of her age - a face so thin and taut that it seems, to adults, like a round, featureless blotch. Dark circles were under her lowered eyelids, and her mouth was small and tight. The fourteen-year-old body ... budding breasts that strain against the tight schoolgirl's uniform, that are painful and embarrassing to her delicate, childlike body; big feet and long arms like sticks of French bread that end in red hands and ink-stained fingers (and which one day, who knows, might turn into the most beautiful arms in the world); a spindly neck; short, dull hair that is dry and fine ...
'Don't you see, Antoinette that your manners are driving me to despair? Sit down again. I'm going to come back in, and this time you will do me the honour of standing up immediately,