Jealousy

November 2, 2009
The French art critic and author of the sensational erotic memoir The Sexual Life of Catherine M.
follows up with a somewhat similarly salacious, achingly candid, though more rueful chronicle of how she felt after discovering her longtime partner's pattern of philandering. Opening an envelope one day on his desk in their shared Paris apartment, Millet discovered that he had taken naked pictures of another woman; once on the scent, she sifted through his notebooks finding numerous instances of his having slept with other women. The irony here is that the author is a self-described libertine. She had been open to taking on lovers outside of her committed relationship with novelist Jacques Henric since before they even began living together, back when she wrote art criticism in the late 1970s. In fact, she prided herself on her availability, becoming a “floating,” flexible body at the pleasure of others, with “several relationships on the go at once.” Discovering the truth about Jacques precipitated a physical sea change: already a practiced masturbator and voyeur, Millet filled in the details of Jacques's infidelity with a masochistic pleasure and self-abasement, even prompting him about details and scouring his novels for clues. Her jealousy became an “addiction,” and over almost three years the crisis endured, during which the couple kept a bruising tally of grief. Millet is a closely detailed, unflinching self-scrutinizer.

December 1, 2009
The famously sexually open memoirist grapples with jealousy.

In her bestselling memoir (The Sexual Life of Catherine M, 2002), Paris art critic Millet shocked the world with her unapologetically candid descriptions of an extravagant sex life with no boundaries and, seemingly, no consequences. After losing her virginity at 18, she immediately engaged in a weeklong bacchanalia of group sex. As an adult, she moved between long-term partners, but was consistently involved in sexual relationships with other people. She eventually ended up in a committed but open marriage to a fellow critic named Jacques. Soon after, however, Millet found in Jacques' study a series of letters and photographs indicating that he was having an emotional, as well as physical, affair with another woman. Just as with her sexual life, Millet discusses her jealousy of this woman in a detached, intellectual tone, laying it out nakedly with no sense of embarrassment—though with some personal shock at the circumstances, as if her openness toward sexual pleasure ought to have left her immune to jealousy. To cope, the author traveled through Europe, obsessing about the details of the affair, calling Jacques in various states of emotional distress and at times retreating totally within herself. There are particular moments of poignant pain—when she became physically sick, for example, and had no recollection of it until Jacques pointed it out—but for most of the book her grief is stunningly relatable, even ordinary. In the end, she clawed her way back to trusting Jacques, though the experience left a distinct mark on her spirit.

Remarkably honest. There is something both sad and deeply satisfying about watching this legendary mistress of emotional bravado crumble.

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