Faith, even when profound, is never entire.

There is considerable audacity in a project of this nature. The famed philosopher/playwright/novelist creates a memoir fifty plus years into the past, a poking about in a small child's mind. I hazard to say there's a some fancy in these pages. Much as Sartre notes throughout most of his childhood he was acting, I assume the great thinker feels compelled to craft something of stature to merit his adult achievement. I will be honest: I don't remember much of my early life. One or two images of leaving Michigan ages 3-4. There are a few flutters after that. My adoptive mother telling everyone I was reading at age two. Was I? I have always had books and much like Sartre I feel indebted. Also, just like the author I had flowing curly locks, a surprise I guess after being bald for 14 months. The stories bifurcate there as Sartre benefited from his grandfather's library and I read comics and books from the local public library. Both of us constructed constant narratives where we were the heroes. He was encouraged to write. I was given a typewriter and I filled notebooks in junior high when I should have been learning geometry.

The second section Writing isn't as magical as the first Reading. He broaches his burgeoning narrative structures, slowly evolving in a stumbling gait --and how everything was ultimately enriched by attending school. That period of his life so deserved a further extensive treatment, if only his adolescent friendship with Paul Nizan. Outside of his widowed mother and tacit grandmother, women do not feature large in this vision. His partial blindness, his diminutive stature, his less than ideal looks all reflect upon this but without explicit comment.

This book has a few beautiful moments that are worth the price of admission. Sartre has such an interesting way of viewing his life that I think will stick with me. His thoughts around living a story and living unto your death are intuitive but I really feel like he misses the core truth behind it all.

All that being said this book did drag quite frequently. It may be just this translation from the French but it was a little hard to read at times which is a-typical for Sartre.

Sartre's autobiography of the first ten years of his life gives a visceral account of his passion for books, reading, and writing, as well as some warts and all explanations of his character and motivations. Raised at the turn of the century by a young, widowed mother and two extremely doting grandparents, Sartre decided he was destined for greatness at the age of seven, and the 59-year-old man's memories of the anxieties and delusions of his young self are both fascinating and cruel. I liked the first half better than the second, but this is well worth reading even if you haven't read any of his other works.

Soit lucide, soit obscur, c'est un chef-d'œuvre très passionant et parfois poétique. C'est aussi un vrai plaisir à lire; c'est-a-dire que ce n'est pas du tout un devoir, ce qui n'est pas exactement vrai de tous les livres de Sartre.

« je confondis la littérature avec la prière »