Words by Jean-Paul Sartre

Picked this one up at one of my favorite used book stores on the strength of its author and title alone. Turns out it is the unofficial first volume in Sartre’s unofficial autobiography and, evidently, one of the few and only places where he wrote about his childhood.

From the dust jacket:

Sartre’s father died shortly after the birth of his son in 1905, so Jean-Paul was brought up by his mother and his maternal grandparents. His childhood was mainly spent in and around Paris, and he was indulged by his mother, with whom he had a close, conspiratorial relationship. But this autobiography is not merely a recital of events. Though it describes the author’s first experiences of the theatre and cinema, as well as giving details of his life both at home and at school, it is also a very well-documented study of child psychology, told with great humour and sympathy by a mellower, yet no less objective Sartre. Naturally, too, it charts the beginnings of his lifelong obsession with words -- often more real to him than events. The first half of the book refers to his passion for reading -- thrillers as well as heavier matter -- and the second describes how, at the age of about nine or ten, he settled on his mission in life as a writer.

That certainly sounds like it would be right up my alley but, sadly, I got very little out of this short volume. Not a single dogear representing anything I stumbled across I felt needed preserving.

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This post appeared on Eric Lanke's blog, an association executive and author. You can contact him at eric.lanke@gmail.com.