Marguerite Duras’ The Vice-Consul was originally published in 1965 and quickly translated into English by Eileen Ellenbogen (1968). In the novel the lives of characters in various states of desperation coincide, an atmosphere intensified by the oppressive heat of the Indian setting. The Vice-Consul of Lahore is in Calcutta awaiting judgment after an act of violence that is at first kept from the reader. There he falls in love for the first time in his life with the wife of the French ambassador, Anne-Marie Stretter. His story is juxtaposed with that of a nameless beggar woman who is thrown out of her home when she falls pregnant, later gives the baby away, and now lives among the lepers of the city.
It is with the beggar that the novel begins, driven out of her home by her mother. Her wanderings at first seem to have direction, at least in her mind, but increasingly become aimless. When the baby is born a white woman takes her in and she immediately escapes, leaving the baby behind:
“The baby has been given. It has been received. It is done.”
The Biblical phraseology of her story is presented as the work of Peter Morgan (“She walks on, writes Peter Morgan”) rather than Duras herself. Morgan is a friend of Anne-Marie and we will later discover she has helped him with the story of the beggar woman, based on a woman who lives among the lepers of Calcutta. Distancing is function of Duras’ writing but here this further barrier absolves her of the difficulty of a white writer telling the story of an Asian woman. The story itself, for all its detail, takes on the aspect of a fable, and the character of the woman (and particularly a song she sings) could be said to haunt the white characters. (For example, when they go to the Prince of Wales Hotel, she follows them). Morgan represents a European view of India:
“Peter Morgan is young. He wants to shoulder the misery of Calcutta. He wants to plunge into its depths. He wants to do it now, to get it over with, so that wisdom may start to grow out of bitter experience.”
He sees India as a challenge but one from which he hopes to benefit; other characters admit the test, one which perhaps the Vice-Consul has failed. When we first meet the Vice-Consul, we are quickly introduced to the idea that his presence is awkward – Charles Rossett, new to India, “comes upon him so suddenly that, this time, he cannot avoid an encounter.” When he discovers that the Vice-Consul has been invited to a reception at the Embassy he is “scarcely able to conceal his astonishment.” The Ambassador tells Charles he expected the Vice-Consul to offer his resignation, but weeks have now passed since his arrival in Calcutta.
The reception at the Embassy takes up the central section of the novel. Much is made not only of the Vice-Consul’s presence but also whether Anne-Marie will dance with him as she traditionally does with all her male guests. Duras largely uses dialogue at this point, from the general “People are saying…” to the conversations taking place on the dance floor. It become increasingly clear that the Vice-Consul sees this as his opportunity to get close to Anne-Marie, both physically (by dancing with her) and emotionally:
“The look in the Vice-Consul’s eyes is painful to see. It is as though he were waiting for someone to show him kindness, even perhaps love.”
Much of the novel’s success revolves around the ambiguity of the Vice-Consul’s character. As readers, should we sympathise with the conformist character of Charles who seems placed to be the viewpoint we can identify with? Or, perhaps, the fear society feels at the Vice-Consul is a result of his sincerity? Anne-Marie will herself admit:
“…it’s hard for everyone at the beginning in Calcutta. I myself went through a period of intense depression.”
(Ther are rumours she attempted suicide). It is speculated that it was the suffering he saw that drove the Vice-Consul to act as he did in Lahore, and it is perhaps the sincerity of his love that means Anne-Marie must refuse him (as she takes a new lover every year). “He’s here, and he must live as best he can,” she tells her friends, admitting that only by adopting an emotionally distanced, cynical approach to life can she survive:
“I can only be the person I am here with you by… frittering away my time like this… don’t you see?”
The novel, therefore, can be read as a display of colonial attitudes, something Duras understood well, and something even the Vice-Consul finally accepts. It is another of Duras’ miniature masterpieces, now sadly out of print.
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