The story
of The Heart is a simple, linear
structure. A car accident renders a
young Frenchman, Simon, brain-dead. A medical team proposes harvesting organs,
and his parents, after some turmoil, agree. That’s the first half of the book,
the provenance of this specific heart. The second half describes its delivery
for transplantation. Administrators find recipients, one of them a woman in
Paris. Simon’s heart is transported there by plane and sewn into her chest. All
this in 24 hours. The narration
is complex, with flashbacks, overlapping times, and literary art that is
compelling. There are 28 sections to the story but without numbers or chapter
headings, and these are often broken up into half a dozen shorter sections. We
have an impression of stroboscopic flashes on the action, with high intensity
focus. These create a mosaic that we assemble into dramatic pictures. Even
major characters arrive without names, and we soon figure them out.
Simon. He’s called
the donor, although he had no choice in the matter. At 19 years of age he’s
trying to find a path in life. A Maori
tattoo is a symbol for that search. He has a girlfriend, Juliette. He fades
away as a character (except in others’ memories) and his heart takes center
stage.
Marianne and Sean, Simon’s parents. Her emotions, as we would expect, range
widely, especially during discussion of whether Simon’s organs can be
transplanted. Father Sean has a Polynesian origin and cultural heritage.
Pierre Révol, Thomas Rémige, and Cordélia Owl are respectively
the ICU physician, nurse, and the transplant coordinator. These are vividly
drawn, with unusual qualities. Skilled professionals, they are the team the
supplies the heart.
Marthe Carrare, Claire Méjan, and Virgilio Breva are a
national administrator, the recipient, and a surgeon. Described in memorable
language, they are the receiving team.
The
characters’ names give hints of de Kerangal’s range. Since the 1789 Revolution Marianne has been a well-known French
national symbol for common people and democracy, but Virgilio
Breva is from Italy and Cordélia (recalling King Lear) Owl (as in wise?) has a grandmother from Bristol, England.
We learn of personal habits regarding tobacco, peyote, sex, and singing.
Medicine is part of a larger world of people of many sorts.
Even minor characters,
such as Simon’s girlfriend Juliette and other medical personnel are touching
and memorable.
These characters
animate the story with their passion, mystery, even heroism. While we don’t
know the final outcome of the implanted heart, the text shows the professionalism
of the medical team, the French national system that evidently works, sensitive
care of patients and families, and in the last pages, rituals of affirmation
for medical art and for patients.
There is
richness in de Kerangal’s style. At times it is direct, reflecting the thoughts
of characters. At times it is ornate, even baroque. She uses many images and
metaphors, often with large, epic qualities. A very long sentence about the
over-wrought parents describes them as “alone in the world, and exhaustion
breaks over them like a tidal wave” (p. 141).
The style uses many similes, often with dramatic and unexpected
comparisons. There are references to geology, astronomy, even American TV
hospital drama. The style is at times lyric…we might say “operatic.” One page about Cordélia is very, very funny.
In a
different tone, the details of medicine, law, and ethics are carefully
presented, and visual imagery puts us in the hospital rooms, the OR, and
crowded streets around a soccer game. Throughout it appears that translator Sam
Taylor has done an admirable job.
The text
invites us to consider large visions of wholeness. All the major characters seek
some comprehensive unity to their lives, and they avoid orthodoxies such as
religion, patriotism, and economic gain. Sean has his Polynesian heritage and
boat-building passion, which he has shared with Simon. Cordélia, at 25, is an
excellent nurse, wise beyond her years in some ways, but is as dazzled by a man as any teenaged girl. Nurse Rémige has his master’s in philosophy, loves
the song of rare birds, and is, himself, a serious singer.
