La Chamade

La Chamade is a love story in which the third corner of the triangle is money—and money has the nicer flat, the better wine and absolutely no intention of losing.

Lucile is beautiful, charming and magnificently untroubled by anything resembling a career. She lives comfortably with Charles, a wealthy older man who provides luxury, affection and that rarest of romantic gifts: no tiresome programme of personal improvement. Then along comes Antoine—young, passionate and comparatively penniless—to demonstrate that true love may set the heart racing, but it also expects you to get up in the morning, take the Métro and occasionally earn your own lunch.

Françoise Sagan turns this splendidly impractical arrangement into a cool, elegant examination of desire, freedom and the dreadful inconvenience of ordinary life. Charles offers security without judgement; Antoine offers passion with working hours. Lucile must therefore confront one of literature’s most pressing questions: is grand romance still grand when it comes with a small apartment, household bills and an entry-level job in publishing?

The title refers to the signal announcing surrender, although deciding who has surrendered—and whether they have surrendered to love, comfort, habit or a really good fur coat—is left deliciously uncertain. Sagan writes with her customary mixture of sophistication and emotional mischief, treating heartbreak as something best endured in excellent clothes and preferably within reach of a well-stocked drinks cabinet.

This distinctive promotional edition was “presented with the compliments of Company Magazine,” presumably because nothing says complimentary gift quite like a French novel about adultery, economic dependence and the gradual collapse of romantic idealism. The cover features a glamorous woman in red who appears to have ordered one coffee and several extremely expensive complications.

A wonderfully chic little novel for admirers of doomed affairs, morally questionable life choices and characters who regard paid employment as an unfortunate rumour.

This copy is in Good condition: previously enjoyed but still perfectly capable of looking languid and sophisticated on a bookshelf. No ISBN, because apparently even numbers were considered a little too bourgeois. Sold by Crappy Old Books, where the books may be pre-loved, the romances ill-advised and the compliments entirely free.

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