Painted with watercolors, edited on Photoshop.
Missed the Spot
There is a plethora of stories about World War I and World War II. It’s difficult to find refreshing narratives from that period. With Never Anyone But You, Rupert Thomson tells us the story of Marcel Moore and Claude Cahun: surrealist artists, lovers, and anti-nazi propaganda creators. While the premise seems promising: a love story between two gender bending artists who created anti-nazi propaganda, the book was lacking in many ways, and had me wondering if my time was better spent doing my own research into these two fascinating artists.
Based on historical events, Never Anyone But You is the story of artists Marcel Moore (born Suzanne Malherbe) and Claude Cahun (born Lucy Schwob.) Marcel and Claude began their love affair as young girls, while hiding their relationship from the larger world. Eventually, Moore’s mother and Cahun’s father marry, making them stepsisters. This gives them an excuse to spend more time together and eventually live together. The story traces the artists’ lives, their love affair, their adventures in Paris at the beginning of the surrealist movement, and their anti-war propaganda during World War II. They were imprisoned during World War II and were thought to be part of a larger resistance movement and were later released. Cahun died of health complications, and Moore died by suicide many years later.
The title suggests that the book explores Moore and Cahun’s relationship. Thomson has definitely tried to show the depth of Cahun and Moore’s relationship but hasn’t done so convincingly. Though the book was written in first person, the sentiment seemed to be removed. Like a spectator was watching something happen rather than a person was living the experience. It was almost ghost-like, and clinical. I wasn’t invested in Moore and Cahun’s relationship as romantic partners, but more as artistic partners. Thomson spent more time convincing me about their bravery in producing anti-nazi propaganda than he did the intricacies of their relationship.
I also felt that Thomson often removed himself from the situation, analyzing what was going on from the lens of the present day. The skepticism of the surrealist movement sounded more like an art history paper than a character in a book questioning their times. I felt like I was travelling between Moore’s mind and a present-day analysis of her surroundings. I didn’t feel situated in the 20s and 30s Paris, or even in the times of World War II.
I was disappointed with the lack of in-depth exploration of the many interesting aspects of Moore and Cahun’s life. Why didn’t we read more about Cahun’s expression of gender? Why didn’t we learn more about their contributions to the surrealist movement? Why was there so little about the PTSD that gave birth to art movement after World War I? There were so many avenues that Thomson could have gone down, but he only hinted at them or mentioned them in passing.
In a time when we’re having conversations about who gets to tell whose story, I also wondered why Thomson had chosen to tell the story of a lesbian female artist, especially in her own voice. While we can attempt to walk in other people’s shoes, presenting their experiences as our own is dangerous. Can I see this representation of Moore’s life as authentic? No. Not at all. But I do see this book as an entry point to the subject of Moore and Cahun. Even after having read the book, I felt like I would get more accurate information from researching Moore. Of course, considering the book is categorized as fiction, I did not read it with the expectation that it would accurate.
So if you’re looking to read more about these two fascinating artists who pushed the limits of gender expression in that time, and created anti-nazi propaganda, here are some suggestions: