The title of this blog post is also the first sentence in Beigbeder's autobiographical novel. It beautifully captures the dominant mood of our dear protagonist throughout the story - one of misery, anger, and ultimately, a particular kind of existential angst.
He begins by postulating that love essentially has three stages, each lasting exactly one year: passion, one year of gentleness, and the ultimate year of boredom. He uses the reader as a personal psychoanalyst, and spews his thoughts and feelings out as soon as they come to him. One can't escape realizing the common irrationality of his thoughts, but, as it often goes in these cases, through all the irrationality, we seem to glimpse something that seems true on a more fundamental level.
The first really exciting part of the experience of reading this novel (for me, at least) was how unexpectedly relatable it becomes, and quickly. Even though we would normally scorn his behavior, and easily dismiss his assertions, we begin to feel like he is a kind of a generic character - even if we ourselves have not been in his state, we definitely have seen our friends act similarly, and can easily understand where he is coming from.
At the start of the novel, our precious hero has just been divorced - his wife left him because he has had an affair. Not a good start. However, through his misery, we begin to dig deeper into his relationship, with his wife, as well as his mistress, and thus arrive at the point of existential angst from which he is telling his story.
He goes on multiple tangents, talking about his musings on life, love, pain, friends, family, all the while maintaining a bit of a dark sense of humor. He is unapologetically candid - like a man that has nothing to lose. This lets him peer deep into his conscience, thus forcing us into considering things we might normally avoid. He is a man who admits he knows nothing, yet keeps holding sermons for the reader.
When you’re in love, the only question left is: at what point do you begin to lie? Are you still just as happy to come home, only to find the same person waiting for you? When you tell her “I love you,” do you really mean it? There will surely — it’s inevitable — be a moment when you realize that you’re faking it. Or else your “I love you” won’t feel the same. Personally, what did me in was shaving. I used to shave every day so as not to scratch Anne when I’d kiss her good night. And then, one night — she was already asleep (I’d been out late with some friends, in the pathetic way men are wont to do when they’re married)—and then, I didn’t shave. I thought it was no big deal, she was asleep, she wouldn’t even notice. Yet in fact it represented the end of our love.
In time, it begins to seem like the nature of human relationships (and particularly marital ones) is evolving before our very eyes, and it becomes clear that the problems we face now are something our grandparents never even had to consider. The World has become much more dynamic, and this has consequences. In earlier times, if you became bored with your partner, you would try and make it work - you would stick with it, even if you didn't like it - as there was no economically feasible or socially acceptable alternative. Now, there are quite a few apparent alternatives, and this mere fact throws not only Beigbeder's character, but our whole generation into a pit of confusion. Basically, we lack proper cultural wisdom to cope with separation.
The work is a story about love, and that in itself makes the work ambitious. In my opinion, it does not disappoint - quite the contrary. Ultimately, it becomes clear that the work is complete fiction (although I am quite certain that some pieces of Beigbeder himself are in there, as well), even though the style is quite convincing. Thus, through his fictional life, we enter a discussion. This discussion is complex and multifaceted, and definitely one we should begin having at dinner parties. We can all start by simply reiterating: "Do you believe that love lasts three years?"
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