You’ve probably heard of the Goncourt Prize. It’s the big one. The French literary world’s equivalent of an Oscar, a Nobel, and a Pulitzer all rolled into one. There is one rule: you can only win it once. Ever. But in 1975, a guy named Émile Ajar won it for a gritty, beautiful, heartbreaking novel called La Vie devant soi (The Life Before Us). The problem? Émile Ajar didn't exist. He was a ghost. A phantom. A fake name created by Romain Gary, who had already won the prize two decades earlier.
Gary basically pulled off the greatest literary heist in history.
But forget the drama for a second. The book itself is what actually matters. It’s a story about Momo, an Arab boy growing up in the Belleville district of Paris, being raised by Madame Rosa, an aging Jewish woman who survived Auschwitz and now runs a "boarding house" for the children of sex workers. It sounds heavy. It is heavy. Honestly, it’s one of the most raw depictions of human connection ever written.
The Belleville Reality: More Than Just a Setting
Belleville in the 70s wasn't the gentrified, coffee-shop-filled neighborhood people visit today. It was a melting pot of the marginalized. Gary didn't write about the glittering lights of the Eiffel Tower. He wrote about the smell of cooking fat, the cramped stairwells, and the people the rest of Paris wanted to forget.
Momo’s voice is everything. He’s a kid, but he’s seen too much. He talks about life with a sort of weary wisdom that feels authentic because Gary himself was a bit of an outsider, despite his fame. He was born Roman Kacew in Lithuania. He fought in the air force. He was a diplomat. He lived a thousand lives before he ever sat down to write as Ajar.
The relationship between Momo and Madame Rosa is the beating heart of La Vie devant soi. It’s not a "mother and son" thing in the traditional sense. It’s a bond of survival. Rosa is terrified of being taken away to a hospital or a nursing home—the "vegetable" life. Momo becomes her protector. It flips the script on what we expect from childhood. Usually, the adult protects the child. Here, the roles dissolve until they are just two souls clinging to each other in a basement.
Why the Émile Ajar Scandal Actually Matters
People were furious when they found out the truth. Critics had been praising Ajar as this "fresh new voice," contrasting him against the "old, washed-up" Romain Gary.
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Gary was laughing at all of them.
He had his cousin’s son, Paul Pavlowitch, play the role of Ajar in public. He lived the lie for years. It wasn't just a prank; it was a protest against being pigeonholed. Gary felt that the literary establishment had stopped reading his work and started reading his reputation. By creating Ajar and writing La Vie devant soi, he proved that his talent wasn't tied to his name.
The prose in this book is jagged. It’s intentionally "imperfect." Momo uses slang, he messes up grammar, and he observes the world with a brutal honesty that Gary’s "official" books often lacked. It’s a masterclass in voice. If you’re a writer, you read this book and realize how much power there is in letting go of "proper" language to find something truer.
The Themes We’re Still Dealing With
Look at the world right now. We’re still arguing about immigration, about aging, and about how we treat the elderly. La Vie devant soi tackled this in 1975 without being preachy.
Madame Rosa is Jewish. Momo is Muslim. In their world, that doesn't matter. What matters is the shared trauma of the past and the shared struggle of the present. Gary shows us that human solidarity doesn't come from shared politics; it comes from shared pain.
There's a famous line in the book: "You can't live without someone to love." It sounds like a greeting card, but in the context of a kid watching his only guardian slowly lose her mind and her body, it’s a desperate scream.
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The Screen Adaptations: Does the Movie Live Up?
Most people today probably know the story through the 2020 Netflix film The Life Ahead, starring Sophia Loren. It’s a good movie. Loren is incredible. But—and this is a big "but"—it moves the setting to Italy.
While the universal themes remain, something is lost when you take the story out of the specific tension of post-war Paris. The 1977 version, Madame Rosa, starring Simone Signoret, is arguably closer to the spirit of the book. It won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film. Signoret captured that specific mix of grandeur and decay that defines Madame Rosa.
If you haven't read the book, the movies are a gateway drug. But the book? The book has a soul that a camera can't quite catch.
Practical Takeaways for Modern Readers
If you're looking to dive into French literature or just want a story that actually makes you feel something, here is how to approach it.
1. Don't look for a happy ending.
This isn't a Disney movie. It’s a story about the "life before you," which Momo eventually realizes is mostly just a long road toward the end. But there is a weird, dark humor in it. Gary was a master of the "laugh so you don't cry" style.
2. Read the translation by Ralph Manheim.
If you don't speak French, the Manheim translation captures the slang and the "Ajar-ness" of the text better than most. It keeps the grit.
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3. Contextualize the author.
Read about Romain Gary’s life after you finish the book. Knowing that he committed suicide in 1980—leaving a note that simply said "I have finally expressed myself fully"—changes how you view Momo’s obsession with dignity and death.
4. Look for the "Six Million" subtext.
Madame Rosa’s fear isn't just about old age. It’s about the police. It’s about the "Vel' d'Hiv" roundup. The book is a quiet meditation on how the Holocaust didn't end in 1945 for the people who lived through it; it just moved into their basements and under their beds.
What Most People Get Wrong
People often call this a book about "tolerance." That’s too soft. Tolerance is just putting up with someone. La Vie devant soi is about radical empathy. It’s about a kid who hides a decaying body because he promised a woman she wouldn't die in a hospital. It’s grotesque, beautiful, and deeply uncomfortable.
It challenges the idea that "love" is a pretty, polished thing. Love is messy. It’s cleaning up after someone who can't clean up after themselves. It’s lying to the authorities to protect a friend.
Gary didn't write this to win a prize (though he did). He wrote it to show that even in the literal basement of society, there is a dignity that no government or "system" can provide.
To truly experience La Vie devant soi, start by finding a copy of the 1975 text. Skip the introductions that spoil the "Ajar" twist if you can help it. Read it in a few sittings. The momentum of Momo’s voice is meant to carry you through. Once you're done, watch the 1977 Simone Signoret film to see how 70s cinema handled the raw aesthetics of Belleville. Finally, explore Gary’s other works like Promise at Dawn to see the contrast between the man and the myth he created.