A memoir of lesbian identity and motherhood, and the societal pressures that place them in opposition.
The daughter of an illustrious French family whose members include a former Prime Minister, a model, and a journalist, Constance Debre abandoned her marriage and legal career in 2015 to write full-time and begin a relationship with a woman. Her transformation from affluent career woman to broke single lesbian was chronicled in her 2018 novel Play boy, praised by Virginie Despentes for its writing that is at once flippant and consumed by anxiety.
In Love Me Tender, Debre goes on to further describe the consequences of that life-changing decision. Her husband, Laurent, seeks to permanently separate her from their eight-year old child. Vilified in divorce court by her ex, she loses custody of her son and is allowed to see him only once every two weeks for a supervised hour. Deprived of her child, Debre gives up her two-bedroom apartment and bounces between borrowed apartments, hotel rooms, and a studio the size of a cell. She involves herself in brief affairs with numerous women who vary in age, body type, language, and lifestyle. But the closer she gets to them, the more distant she feels. Apart from cigarettes and sex, her life is completely ascetic- a regime of intense reading and writing, interrupted only by sleep and athletic swimming. She shuns any place where she might observe children, avoiding playgrounds and parks as if they were cluster bombs ready to explode, riddling her body with pieces of shrapnel.
Writing graphically about sex, rupture, longing, and despair in the first person, Debre’s work is often compared with the punk-era writings of Guillaume Dustan and Herve Guibert, whose work she has championed. As she says of Guibert- I love him because he says I and he’s a pornographer. That seems to be essential when you write. Otherwise you don’t say anything. But in Love Me Tender, Debre speaks courageously of love in its many forms, reframing what it means to be a mother beyond conventional expectations.
