Lives Other than My Own (D'autres vies que la mienne, by Emmanuel Carrère

What most struck me about the memoir Lives Other than My Own (D'autres vies que la mienne, 2009), by Emmanuel Carrère, was its intimate intrusion into the experiences and emotions of people under great distress. The first 45 pages of the book focus on Thailand on January 1, 2004, where Carrère and his partner Hélène were vacationing. This is the day of the tsunami, and although Carrère and his partner are only on the periphery of it, they are first-hand witnesses to the grief of other people, especially a young couple who lose their three-year-old daughter. The next section of the novel, which is the main portion of the book, narrates the illness and death of Hélène’s sister, Juliette, from metastasized breast cancer. The writer interviews her husband and her fellow colleague judge Etienne, with whom she has a close but nonsexual relationship.

The sudden and abrupt transition from the tsunami to the death of Juliette is intentional. It's a way of showing that tragedy, disaster, can come in any number of forms to many different people, ultimately to all people.

Carrère's tone is casual and sympathetic, yet at the same time he assumes an attitude of objectivity, not only towards the people he's writing about, but about himself. He makes clear that on the occasion of the tsunami he and Hélène are on the verge of deciding to split up. A partial result of their involvement with the people who suffered loss from the tsunami, and with the death of Juliette, is the strengthening of their relationship. Yet even in the end, despite his near certainty that the relationship will end only when one of the two of them die, he admits the possibility of a premature end due to boredom or illness or wandering eyes.

There are times of great discomfort in reading this book: we learn virtually everything there is to know about the primary characters: Hélène, her sister Juliette and her husband Patrice, her friend Etienne, their children and their parents. He delves into intimate aspects of their lives. Etienne and Juliette both suffered childhood cancer.  Etienne lost a leg as a result, while Juliet was left unable to use her legs due to an error made by her doctor when she was undergoing radiation therapy. This experience held in common bonds them. One of the most interesting figures in the book, perhaps the most interesting, is Etienne, who is talkative, candid, and willing to speak his mind without concern about his listener’s reaction. He answers the author's questions with candor. That is part of the reason for the discomfort that one might feel with this memoir: the details of sex lives, the author’s discovery that the body of the three-year-old girl who drowned in the tsunami is decaying in the hospital and the associated smell, the details of Juliette's last hours and minutes, the interactions of various members of their family. One feels in reading this book that he is intruding on, invading, the most private spaces of the characters’ lives.

Carrère makes clear that he gave both Patrice and Etienne the opportunity to read his manuscript and ask for changes. They asked for few changes, mainly small details.

What will it be like to die, when the time comes? How does it feel to know that one’s own death is imminent? What is it like to lose one's life partner? Or to lose one's child? I do not want to know some of the answers. These are questions Lives Other than My Own investigates.

The translation is excellent, and one never senses that this is a translated work.