In 2012 the French-born but London-based author, Alba Arikha, published her critically acclaimed memoir Major/Minor – a coming-of-age evocation of Arikha’s adolescence in 1980s Paris. It captures the spirit of her artistic, at times dysfunctional, bohemian family with extraordinary honesty and luminous prose. Arikha is the daughter of a poet, Anne Atik, and an artist, Avigdor Arikha, and the goddaughter of Samuel Beckett, who read her writing, sending little white cards in response to work he connected with.
Her third novel, Two Hours, is a literary masterpiece of similar grace and weight, that delicately resonates with the themes of the memoir. Echoes of Arikha’s experiences can be heard in her protagonist Clara. The 16-year-old Parisienne, who is forced to move to New York with her parents, deftly traces her initial desperation to be exposed to “adult matters” and the eventual struggles of that wish being realised.
With a cool intimacy, we travel with her through her education, her experiences of motherhood, and to what may yet await her. Clara reveals early on that she often feels “undefined, like a blurry outline” and yet, from the opening page, she explodes out of the ether as an immediately compelling, enigmatic and complex character. Arikha is at the height of her powers when articulating the messy glamour of adolescent girls as they evolve into singular women – and does so with great precision.
This is not just the story of one woman striving for fulfilment, but an intensely moving meditation on how one small moment can have a ripple effect throughout an entire lifetime. It offers a thoughtful examination of the enduring power of a “promise cut short”, and how such unfulfilled potential can haunt the imagination.
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In her memoir Arikha writes that upon reading Beckett’s Endgame, she recognised that there was “no surplus, all essentials; something to strive for, when I’m older and wiser”. That literary ambition is fully realised in this short novel – just 160 pages long where every word earns its keep. The author has the confidence to suggest, rather than explain. To express unflinching honesty with a quietly controlled lyricism. And to trust the reader with the excavation of a woman’s interiority with all of the light and shadows that contains.
Surely a strong contender for this year’s literary prizes, Two Hours sets Arikha apart from her contemporaries as an author with a particular and poignant vision.
