December 31, 2025
Suite Francaise and the Question No One Can Answer in Time
I’ve just finished listening to Suite Francaise by Irene Nemirovsky, a novel written during the early years of World War II and left unfinished when the author was arrested and later killed at Auschwitz. The history of the book gives it added weight because it was written during the actual period, yet the most striking thing to me wasn’t the tragedy, but the ordinariness.
This book is not really about heroes or villains in the usual sense. It is a book about people cooking meals, worrying about money, caring for the children, negotiating with neighbors, and trying to remain themselves while history presses in from every side.
As I listened, one question kept returning:
Is there a moment when it becomes wiser to leave than to stay?
Is it a clear decision, an act of agency, to choose to become a refugee? Suite Francaise shows us that people rarely know when the turning point has arrived. They act on rumors, half-truths, fear, hope, and attachment. They choose with children watching, with elderly parents who cannot walk very far, and with the belief that this situation cannot possibly last.
Some flee. Some Stay.
None of them escape lass.
The novel makes it clear that there is no moral high ground here. Leaving may preserve life but fracture identity. Staying may preserve dignity but risk destruction. Courage exists on both sides, and so does regret.
Reading this now, from a safe distance in time and space, I’m aware of how easy it is to judge these decisions with the advantage of hindsight. But the people living inside the moment do not have that luxury. They cannot see the ending. They only know what is bearable and what is not.
Perhaps the most honest truth from the book:
Becoming a refugee is rarely a choice; it is the least unbearable option among unbearable ones.
Perhaps refuge itself is not the destination. Maybe it is the act of choosing what you can live with becoming.
If you are curious about this book
Suite Francaise is reflective, humane, and unsentimental. It doesn’t tell you what to think; but it asks you to notice. If you enjoy literature that explores moral ambiguity, resilience, and the interior lives of ordinary people during extraordinary times, it is well worth reading or listening to.
Still Curious. Still Growing, Still Grateful.
by Janis @ Simple Raw and Natural
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