A remarkable work in her oeuvre, Colette's "The Evening Star" was written when she was bedridden in her seventies and was the first time she had been forced into serious reflection. She said: "It may be that I shan't publish these pages. For this is the first time I am writing as I please." Luckily for her readers, this magical collection survived.
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This is a companion piece to The Thousand and One Mornings (1973) - more reflective, and a little more substantial (as remotely as that qualifier applies to Colette) - written, or as she would say scribbled, in her seventies when she was bedbound but never restive - "the sky alone is distraction enough." These apercus (Fr., but who could be more French) skitter through the war years and their "trying passivity"; back to the Great War; over a graphological treatise on homosexuality which she finds a most sad condition; over losses - particularly her friend Helene, a prominent turn of the century poet; over her writing - the last page of a novel demands a full stomach so that congestion can promote inspiration. Thoughts of age intrude occasionally and then there's that shadowed closing line - "from here I can see the end of the road." Perhaps just a coda to those other forty books - but Colette is very much here as she was, a charming presence. (Kirkus Reviews)