A Hymn to Life
Shame Has to Change Sides
A Hymn to Life is not a religious book. When asked if she believes in God, Gisèle Pelicot answers, “No, I believe in forces that are bigger than us, but not in a God.” The memoir, written by the survivor of one of the worst sexual abuse crimes imaginable, contains no theology of suffering, no account of divine providence, no attempt to explain the evil that was done to her. Yet reading it convinced me in a profoundly deep way that human beings are more than our bodies and more than what has been done to them. Put simply, this memoir is a story about the way that memory constitutes the self, and about the beauty, persistence, and dignity of the human soul.
I came to the book reluctantly. I am not drawn to true crime and would have had no intention of reading a memoir centered on one of the most horrifying criminal cases in recent memory. But I heard a podcast interview with Pelicot, and I found myself captivated by the extraordinary dignity of her voice. She spoke in French, with a simultaneous voice-over translator, and it was her actual voice, its cadence and its calmness, that affected me. There was something in that voice, along with the words she said, that felt deeper than resilience—something that touched the very essence of human dignity. The book is, as its title promises, a hymn to life.
Gisèle fell in love with Dominique Pelicot when she was just 19. She spent nearly 50 years as his wife, raised three children with him, and eventually retired with him to a charming home in the small village of Mazan, France, where their grandchildren could swim in the backyard pool. Their long marriage was both ordinary and happy. Over the years they weathered a normal course of financial challenges and career changes, but overall there were many years of love, laughter, and companionship. On this, she is insistent.
