The renowned Polish poet Czesław Miłosz famously remarked, "When a writer is born into a family, the family is finished." In today’s European literary landscape, it seems that the release of a new book can spark familial disputes akin to a modern-day soap opera. This trend, characterized by thinly veiled autobiographical narratives that delve into family conflicts, has gained significant traction across the continent and is often leading families to confront each other in courtrooms instead of at family gatherings.
A recent example of this phenomenon involves French historian Cécile Desprairies, who found herself embroiled in a defamation lawsuit initiated by her brother and cousin. The legal action stems from their discontent regarding the portrayal of their late mother and great-uncle in Desprairies’ 2024 novel, La Propagandiste.
The plaintiffs assert in their complaint that the author’s animosity toward the individuals depicted in the book is evident throughout the narrative, which they argue is fundamentally an act of familial revenge. They claim that there is a lack of factual basis for the novel's primary storyline, which revolves around a woman’s alleged collaboration with the Nazis, and they have requested that the book be removed from circulation and destroyed.
La Propagandiste, which made the longlist for the prestigious Prix Goncourt in 2023, has received accolades for its engaging storytelling, with one English translation being described as a "clever and vivid book" by The Guardian. In the narrative, the protagonist, Coline, recounts the life of her mother, Lucie, who struggled with morphine addiction and was married to a fervent pro-Nazi propaganda poster designer during the Vichy regime.
Although Desprairies has distanced herself from the classification of her work as a roman à clef—a genre where real-life figures are fictionalized—she has openly acknowledged that her own childhood experiences served as a significant source of inspiration. In a 2023 interview with French television, she stated, "Most of the protagonists I drew inspiration from were deceased, so there’s a freedom in expressing myself."
Desprairies' work fits within the realm of life writing, a style that French author and critic Serge Doubrovsky coined as autofiction back in 1977. This genre blends elements of autobiography with fictional experimentation and has gained popularity in recent years, largely thanks to works like Elena Ferrante’s My Brilliant Friend and Karl Ove Knausgård’s My Struggle.
Typically, autofiction explores challenging or traumatic aspects of childhood. However, as Larissa Muraveva, a researcher at Grenoble Alpes University, points out, "The challenge lies in the difficulty of recounting personal experiences without inevitably implicating others in the narrative.” For instance, Knausgård, whose expansive six-volume series often reflects on his complicated relationship with his alcoholic father, faced threats of defamation from his uncle prior to the release of the first volume. Similarly, Bergen’s National Theatre was threatened with legal action over a stage adaptation of Vigdis Hjorth’s autofiction work by the author’s own mother.
Interestingly, while these threats did not lead to court proceedings, families portrayed in autofiction in Norway have frequently opted for creative responses rather than legal recourse. For example, Knausgård’s ex-wife, Linda Boström Knausgård, published her own novel that seemingly contests his fictional depiction of their divorce. Meanwhile, Hjorth’s sister Helga, along with a former lover, Arild Linneberg, who is also a literary critic, have crafted their own counter-narratives.
Melissa Schuh, a lecturer in English literature at Kiel University in Germany, highlights a prevalent skepticism among critics towards autofiction writers, suggesting that it provides them with a dual advantage. On one hand, it liberates authors from the constraints of traditional genres while simultaneously lending their works an air of authenticity. On the other hand, it affords them certain protections against potential legal challenges by allowing them to integrate fictive elements into their narratives.
However, in France, the effectiveness of novelization as a shield against legal scrutiny appears to be waning, possibly emboldening Desprairies' relatives to take action. In 2013, notable autofiction author Christine Angot and her publishing house, Flammarion, were ordered to pay €40,000 in damages for invading the privacy of her lover's ex-partner as depicted in her novel Les Petits. Another case involved Camille Laurens, who was taken to court by her husband in 2003 over the inclusion of their daughter’s name in her book L’Amour, Roman, although she ultimately won that case.
Natalie Edwards, a professor of French and head of modern languages at the University of Bristol, notes the contrast between the growing memoir trend in the U.S.—a culture rife with litigation—and the relatively fewer legal disputes seen in comparison to France. She comments, "It’s remarkable that while there is a significant memoir boom occurring alongside a very litigious environment in the US, France has not experienced a similar volume of legal conflicts. Here, a vague privacy law coincides with a similarly ambiguous writing style."
In Desprairies' situation, her relatives are pursuing legal action not for invasion of privacy but rather for what they term the "public defamation of the memory of the deceased." Mark Stephens, an English solicitor with expertise in media law, intellectual property, and freedom of expression, suggests that their prospects may not be promising. He explains, "The 1881 press freedom law in France, which defines defamation, protects only the privacy rights of living individuals. Descendants cannot claim defamation of family honor unless they can prove that their own reputation has suffered damage."
Desprairies' attorney contended that connecting the narrative of the novel to the author’s living relatives would require an excessive degree of genealogical knowledge or even a form of clairvoyance that readers simply do not possess. Stephens echoed this sentiment, stating, "As it stands, their claim is quite weak, if not entirely untenable. French courts are likely to be hesitant to silence a novelist who is revealing uncomfortable truths. The pride of a family does not make for sound legal arguments, nor does it create compelling literature."
A ruling on this case is anticipated on March 17.
