“Duras’ language and writing shine like crystals.” –The New Yorker
“It is at once pure artifice, a literary mind in its death throes, and also the rawest thing she’s ever written. For all her French sex-kitten affectations, Duras was a micromanager-author, and here she orchestrates even her own annihilation, a bonfire of self-loathing using lovers, past and present, as kindling.” –Los Angeles Times Book Review
“Marguerite Duras’s voice, whenever we hear it, always goes straight for our hearts.” –Le Monde
“Here is laid bare, without doubt, one of the most beautiful secrets of the song of Duras … a song of shadows, drawn from the silent hours of days, and a kind of victory over them.” –La Croix
“Simple, naked affirmation of her crazy love.” –Le Soir
