“A little girl is returning from the beach, at dusk, with her mother. She is crying for no reason at all, because she would have liked to continue playing. She moves off into the distance. She has already turned the corner of the street, and do not our lives dissolve into the evening as quickly as this grief of childhood?”
– Patrick Modiano, Missing Person (2004 Prix Goncourt)
Nobel-laureate Patrick Modiano’s novel ‘Missing Person’ traces soon after Word War 2 the search by an amnesiac for his identity. He has worked for a Paris detective agency for a number of years, and after it closes down he decides to find out who he is. With a bit of detective work, he starts to find traces that begin to come together slowly by dint of accosting erstwhile strangers for answers and pursuing other connections. By the end of the book, he is almost there but a man with perhaps the last piece of the puzzle is lost at sea presumed dead. Here we have a protagonist who is the missing person he is trying to find. And he discovers only vague largely impalpable fragments of memory. He may have found an identity of sorts but he won’t recover the lost memory of a life that has “dissolved into the evening”.
Dashiell Hammett in his novel ‘The Maltese Falcon’ has Sam Spade relate a fable which in academic writing on film noir has become known as the “Flitcraft Parable”. Spade tells the story of Mr Flitcraft, a realtor and family man who one day goes out to lunch and never returns. On the day he disappeared he had narrowly escaped death when a heavy beam from a construction site fell eight stories onto the pavement, just missing him. A typically noir moment. As Spade put it: “He felt like somebody had taken the lid off life and let him look at the works. The life he knew was a clean orderly sane responsible affair. Now a falling beam had shown him that life was fundamentally none of these things.”
Back in Paris at around the same time Georges Simenon is writing his novel ‘Monsieur Monde Vanishes’ about a well-off bourgeois, who one morning leaves his office and hops a train to Marseille, hooking up with a b-girl on the way. His wife reports him as a missing person. He gets works as a clerk in a dance joint. Neither happy nor unhappy, he exists perhaps in a way more real than in his comfortable life in Paris. But is his slumming permanent?
Monsieur Monde certainly takes all the risks and does make a shattering discovery, but like Flitcraft and the Paris amnesiac, has he found a new life or rediscovered an old one, the doppelganger in us all?
4 thoughts on “Amnesia and Missing Persons: “our lives dissolve into the evening””
Further exploration of this tantalizing theme is given more thematic resonance in these splendidly penned examples. Elements are part of the screenplay of Hitchcock’s SPELLBOUND too.
Thanks Sam and for the heads up on Spellbound which I need to revisit.
What is a b-girl? And you mention b-cast in another article.
Great blog. I’m writing a novel about an amnesiac and I’d never thought about the connection with noir. It makes sense, as it is my favourite film genre.
Thanks Chella and for your visit.
A b-girl was originally short for bar girl and was also used to describe a taxi dancer. In the noir context it usually refers to a young woman on the edge of polite society – a gangster’s moll or a prostitute for example.
A b-cast is my short-hand for actors who acted primarily in b-movies of the 30s and 40s – not a-list.
All the best for your novel.