Duras died in childhood. Poverty, shame. Everything past the
age of fifteen is chronicled, written down. Like Louise Bourgeois
(another lipstick, hosiery ripped lady), whose work derives from
one small window of time (the ten years when her father had an
affair with her nanny), Duras’s entire oeuvre springs from her gaze
back at the wreckage. The wreckage gazes back at her and she
becomes the wreckage.
Copyright © 2020 Cynthia Cruz
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Four Way Books.