Céline Zufferey’s new novel, Maxence, isn’t about escaping reality; it’s about meticulously documenting it. The Swiss author’s work, released on , is a deeply intimate exploration of a marriage, a project born from a desire to capture the fleeting nature of time and the inevitability of loss.
Zufferey describes the process as an “autopsy” of her present life with her husband, Maxence, whose name also lends itself to the title. She sought to fix the memory of their everyday existence, anticipating a future where one of them might be gone. “I wanted to capture the everyday, to inscribe it into eternity,” she explained in an interview with Vertigo on .
But the project quickly evolved beyond a simple meditation on mortality. It became, Zufferey says, an exploration of love itself – not the grand gestures often depicted in fiction, but the quiet, consistent presence and absence that define long-term relationships. “This book is about the presence and absence of loved ones, their coexistence between the present moment and their eventual future absence,” she stated.
What sets Maxence apart is its deliberate “female gaze.” Zufferey consciously inverted the traditional dynamic of observation, turning her attention to the physicality and habits of her husband. “We’re used to it being the other way around, but here, I wanted to reverse the roles,” she explained. She details his routines – how he makes coffee, how he watches films – finding passion in the mundane. “It was also a way of dealing with passion in everyday life, through small attentions and simple gestures.”
While deeply rooted in Zufferey’s personal life, Maxence isn’t strictly autobiographical. “My relationship is a starting point, but I left a lot of room for fiction,” she clarifies. The act of writing itself became a central theme, a process of distancing herself from the immediate reality to become a detached observer. “The more I wrote, the further I moved away from my relationship to become an observer. This book is as much a reflection on love as it is on the act of writing.”
Zufferey’s work invites readers to reconsider their own relationships and to find wonder in the ordinary. Early reactions, she notes, suggest the book encourages a renewed appreciation for partners and loved ones, prompting a re-evaluation of the small moments that often go unnoticed. This approach echoes the influence of literary figures like Georges Perec and Nathalie Sarraute, known for their ability to elevate the commonplace to art.
The novel’s construction mirrors its thematic concerns. Written in just five months, Maxence is structured as a series of fragments, assembled in a way that Zufferey compares to film editing. “I thought of these chapters as shards, written in a disordered way, then structured like a montage,” she said. This reflects her broader artistic sensibility, informed by a love of cinema and visual art.
Zufferey’s previous work includes Nitrate, where she followed the trail of a lost film by pioneering female filmmaker Alice Guy. In Nitrate, the protagonist Constance, a documentary editor, grapples with the challenges of understanding her profession to others: “When asked what she does and she replies ‘editor,’ people look at her without understanding. They wonder what she might be editing. Furniture? Stairs?” This demonstrates Zufferey’s continued interest in the act of observation and the stories hidden within images and everyday life.
With Maxence, Céline Zufferey doesn’t offer a sweeping romance or a dramatic narrative. Instead, she presents a quiet, profound meditation on love, memory, and the art of seeing – a reminder that the most meaningful stories are often found not in grand events, but in the subtle details of our daily lives.
