GENÊT

The elements of Françoise Sagan's plays are in a way her own private property—or at least are not instinctively used, or even borrowed, by other writers for the French theatre. For her, as a romantic, love is the fine flower of life—the most important gift you get or give—and it fades. As a modern intelligence, she perceives that between lovers the practice of ideas usually destroys emotion, that personal liberty is a dangerous necessity, that most human beings suffer from and give off ennui, and that fantasy is a final refuge from reality, especially for the French. This inventory she used in such perfect proportion in her "Château en Suède" that the play will likely be regarded for its delights as a personal period piece, and will be revived over time, like a minor theatre classic. The ingredients are similar enough in her new play, "La Robe Mauve de Valentine,"… though she has added boulevard touches by including a sense of farce, which she unexpectedly writes as if it were an old habit…. [She] deals with the basic elements of private life—though so decked out by her personal style and charm, and with such curious, improvised backgrounds, that they are rather like charades…. There is always a certain amount of destruction in Sagan's plays, and in her novels, too…. Sagan's comedy will doubtless be the smart commercial success of 1963, because she is a compelling, gifted personality who is still a Paris fashion. It has had harsh treatment from some critics, who claim that there is no play in it. Had it been written seriously, it is true, it could have been a strong melodrama—if that is what they like—but it would not have been written by Sagan. (pp. 107-09)

Disintoxication from drugs is by all accounts a painful experience, and Françoise Sagan's diary [Toxique] bears this out…. [One] does not feel that the literary value is much greater than the medical….

As for diaries, these are interesting if they are written either by or about some gifted writer. But Françoise Sagan does not belong to the class of the Gides, Valérys, Cocteaus and Greens. Here there are little more than pensées for sunbathers and racing-car fanciers.