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Sophie Fontanel

The Art of Sleeping Alone: Why One French Woman Suddenly Gave Up Sex Hardcover – August 13, 2013

by Sophie Fontanel (Author)

47 ratings

2.8 on Goodreads

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Sophie Fontanel, bestselling novelist and iconic editor of French Elle, tells the provocative story of her decision to stop having sex—a choice that profoundly changed her view of herself and her place in the world.

At the age of twenty-seven, after many years of having (and, for the most part, enjoying) an active sex life, beloved French author, journalist, editor, and fashion blogger Sophie Fontanel decided she wanted to take a break. Despite having it all—a glamorous job, plenty of dates and boyfriends, stylish clothes, and endless parties to attend—she still wasn’t happy, and found herself wanting more. She chose to give up her sex life, and in so doing shocked all of her friends and colleagues. What she discovers about herself is truly liberating and raises a number of questions about the expectations of the society in which we live. As she experiences being the only non-coupled one at dinner parties, weekend getaways, and summer vacations, she muses inspiringly on what it means to find happiness and fulfillment alone.

Provocative and illuminating, The Art of Sleeping Alone, which spent eight weeks on the bestseller list in France, offers advice on love and sex while challenging modern-day conventions of marriage and motherhood, making this an ideal read for anyone who has chosen to do things a little differently.

Print length

160 pages
Language

English
Publisher

Scribner
Publication date

August 13, 2013
Dimensions

5.75 x 0.75 x 8.5 inches
ISBN-10

1451696272
ISBN-13

978-1451696271
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Editorial Reviews

From Booklist

At 27, popular French writer and editor Fontanel lost her taste for sex. With her desire for physical intimacy with another person gone completely, she broke up with her lover and decided to go it alone. She’s surprised and put off by the reactions she gets. Friends try to set her up, assuming she just hasn’t met the right man; men think they can break through her indifference and try to seduce her; and one woman surmises that Fontanel’s rejection of men means that she must be interested in women now. Fontanel holds her ground and finds physical pleasures outside of sex, indulging in lavender milk baths and embracing her pillow. She finds joy in being a party of one and takes note of how uncomfortable this makes her friends, most of whom are coupled—some happily, others less so. In gracefully woven vignettes, Fontanel observes how society disapproves of people who refuse to pair off even as she is steadfast in underscoring the benefits she enjoys from unapologetically listening to her body’s needs and taking time for herself. --Kristine Huntley

Review

“Fontanel’s writing is intelligent, the reading experience is sensual.” (Paris Match)

“Sophie writes provocatively about fashion (her signature, after all), the constraints society places on sex, and the vulnerability of desire.” (Livres Hebdo (Paris))

“Fontanel's admissions offer a salutary lesson to young women everywhere.” (The Australian)

“Leave it to a Frenchwoman to convert even giving up sex into an elegant gesture that reeks of worldliness and sends up a smoky wreath.” (Vanity Fair)

"Her depiction of celibacy isn't prudish or dry but lush; she isn't shy when describing either her previous affairs or her current erotic fantasies, and her frankness keeps the book from straying into polemical territory. The writing is stripped bare, with no extra fat or flair, and this simplicity works." (Kirkus Reviews)

"In gracefully woven vignettes, Fontanel observes how society disapproves of people who refuse to pair off even as she is steadfast in underscoring the benefits she enjoys from unapologetically listening to her body’s needs and taking time for herself." (Booklist)

"Candid, funny... For someone who has been celibate for the majority of her adult life, Sophie Fontanel sure is good at writing about sex." (ELLE.com)

"A searching investigation into the power of no... a sophisticated bagatelle of a volume, filled with detours to exotic locales." (Dwight Garner The New York Times)

"Fontanel strings together her narrative in a series of lyrical vignettes....No one has written so sumptuously about celibacy.” (The Daily Beast)

About the Author

Sophie Fontanelhas been an editor at Elle France for more than a decade. A novelist and essayist, she lives in Paris. The Art of Sleeping Alone is her first book to be published in English.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

With my elbows propped on the safety bar of the lift chair, I was raised up to where I just knew the sky would be blue, with fog slipping away like a skin skimmed from milk. I was looking at fir trees, mountaintops, immaculate planes of solid colors, and I was thinking: I want to find this calm for myself. As for the kind I’d already evaluated from personal experience, meaning the matchless scouring performed by sex, well, that no longer interested me. I’d had it with being taken and rattled around. I’d had it with handing myself over. I’d said yes too much. I hadn’t taken into account the tranquility my body required.

Realizing that I wasn’t listening, my body had begun to speak up. Before this winter getaway, a certain resistance had intensified within me. In the privacy of my body, every atom of my being was walling itself off, yet I couldn’t do a thing about it. I had trouble unclenching my fists and strained to open my palms flat against the sheet, only to have them curl shut an instant later. For weeks, I’d been obliged to shake my head at whatever my lover proposed. He was growing impatient. I made an effort. This lover thought I was giving when I was actually conceding. He believed I was capitulating when I was really calculating how to end the experience as quickly as possible. I’d become a paltry possession for the man who thought he had me in his power. I noticed his air of suspicion; he grew less and less sure of his spoils. He reminded me of those people who try to grab you in a fight but wind up holding your sweater while you race off, arms flailing.

I had run, run, to reach the ski resort. As soon as I got there, I bought a ski suit instead of just pants; I felt safe inside an outfit that was so hard to get off. The hotel was at the very top of the ski lift; when that stopped running at four in the afternoon, the place became a high-plains desert. It was the off-season: there were three of us at the hotel, including the owner, Jonas. My host had worshipped Johnny Hallyday ever since he was a kid, and as he served me he was listening to “Longing,” his pop idol’s 1986 hit. “The mountain saps self-confidence,” Jonas remarked, as if to put me on my guard.

He couldn’t have cared less about the fresh air. He complained about not meeting any women at such a high altitude, and going out for the evening required taking the snowmobile and coming back up again later in complete darkness, ten times more alone, drunk, and frozen stiff. His frustration amazed me. Personally, I thought it was delightful to be far from other people. And to sing about longing only for the horizon. To have the creaking of snow for my sole companion. Jonas saw things differently. He’d had no female company for three years. “I’m turning into a goat,” he said, adding three logs—more than necessary—to the fireplace. Such roaring blazes were his revenge on monotony. He paid me a few compliments that first evening. Proof, suddenly, of our isolation. Tanned, athletic, Jonas was a former chasseur alpin, a soldier in the elite mountain infantry of the French army, and he had those pale eyes mountain folk tend to have. Untouched by the elements, the skin below his neck was white, and if I’d wanted I could have had a closer look; he would certainly have shown me. When it occurred to me—a reflex—that going to bed with this man might be a possibility, the mere thought sent my body into lockdown. It was out of the question: my whole being was slamming shut. I remembered the time I was doing a crossword puzzle in Le Monde and had such trouble coming up with the word “portcullis.” At that moment, though, it popped right into my head.

I left Jonas and went off to my room. I thought about Paris, and what I’d escaped from, and that evening’s escape as well. I opened the window onto the blackness I knew was so white. I breathed. . . . With the snow all around, my destiny seemed to me like an Eden sweet with birdsong. My life would be soft and fluffy. I was through with being had.

Product details

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Scribner (August 13, 2013)
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 160 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1451696272
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1451696271
Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 8.8 ounces
Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 5.75 x 0.75 x 8.5 inches

Best Sellers Rank: #3,389,854 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #14,461 in Love & Romance (Books)
- #29,803 in Women's Biographies
- #93,047 in Memoirs (Books)

Customer Reviews:
47 ratings

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Top reviews from the United States

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Henry Le Nav

Disappointing

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on August 20, 2013

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Disappointing. I don't think her experience is all that terribly unusual. Many people go through periods of abstention, usually not as long, and usually not self enforced.

Caution Spoiler:

Her story struck me as though she grew weary of and her body rejected being used by men who did not love her but found her a convenient lover. I believe that she was tired of being an appliance. I can understand her desire to get away from that situation, in fact I think it was noble of her to do so. If a situation is not fulfilling one's happiness then they should endeavor to change. Take a vacation from men, and leave loveless sex forever. But then it struck me that rather than trying to find a meaningful loving relationship, she just seemed to take much smug satisfaction at being the odd woman out and watching her friends scramble to fix her life, while their own were so obviously full of faults. So after quite some period of time she began to feel "insinuating vibrations" and the book ends with her starting an affair with a married man. Perhaps all she wants from life are on and off periods of loveless sex. It struck me that she wasted her sexual prime trying to prove some point to herself and her friends, but in the end what ever that point was, she didn't seem to learn it very well.

End of Spoiler

This book was very short, possibly thankfully so. It is divided up into short vignettes that I invariably found were just starting to get interesting and I would flip the page to find that it ended two or three sentences later. It seemed to be written with some artsy Victorian modesty that implied much but told very little. I found the prose too flowery and vague. Its not 1850, so there is no need to appeal to the delicate sensibilities regarding subjects not suitable for mixed company.

My biggest disappointment with this book was that I was hoping to learn something and it didn't happen. I spent my teens and early 20s mostly in a state of celibate longing for love and intertwined with that love, sexual intimacy. When I found it, I regretted the time that was squandered. I didn't like sleeping alone, and I was hoping for something that would shed a positive light on her experience. If there was a lesson in the human condition to be had here, it went over my head.

18 people found this helpful

Helpful

yellowrose

Lost in Translation

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on April 16, 2015

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Translators have a very difficult job. Oftentimes the true intent of a story is lost when translating it from one language to another. I'm afraid that may be what happened in this book, starting with the title. I never got the sense of why the author, a French woman, "suddenly" gave up sex. Her younger years were "frisky", starting with a seduction when she was in her early teens and she didn't know how to say no. And it didn't seem to be a matter of waking up one morning in her 30s and deciding she didn't want intimacy with anyone except on a platonic level; it was a gradual realization. I was attracted to this topic because I have lost interest in sexual intimacy and I wanted to learn how others dealt with this issue. I am in my 60s, so you might say that I, like many older women, lose interest. True, but I also have had surgery which might have affected my libido. But in this age of limitless communication, I have come across people of all ages who don't have an interest in sexual matters. Many call themselves "asexuals" and want to be included in the LGBT club. Point is, we're not stuck for all time in any particular group. We are all in a state of flux, transformation, mutation, morphing, shape shifting, whatever. The author has discovered this by the end of her story. It's certainly a topic that can generate more discussion. Not having an interest in sexual matters is not unnatural, it is one of the paths some follow.

5 people found this helpful

Helpful

MoMo

Disappointing

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on September 10, 2013

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I guess it depends on what purpose you're reading this book for. It's typically French, glossy and a bit histrionic at times. The good points are found early on in the book, as the author examines her sex life critically and goes against the grain to stop having sex (with other people, at least). This forces her to critically examine the lives of her vapid friends and how they (and the author) define "love" (hint: it's got nothing to do with giving of yourself to another person, and I don't necessarily mean sexually). It's interesting to read about their reactions to her big choice (although I found myself wondering why she told them about it; it's really none of their business). The chapters about the other pleasures she turned to in life (massages, talking to children, etc) were nice but I'm not quite sure how they're connected to not having sex. Unfortunately, the ending really disappointed me (spoilers)-- at the end of the book, she spontaneously ends her 12-year celibacy by picking up a (married) acquaintance and taking him home for a rendez-vous. After all the meditating she did on the subject, in the end there was no revelation or self-discovery, or at the very least, progress of character. Perhaps it's my fault for expecting more depth, but I don't know.

33 people found this helpful

Helpful

Lynne

Disappointed :-(

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on August 22, 2014

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I pre-ordered this book a few months before it was released. I was SO looking forward to it, I thought as the title says, that it would be about WHY a woman suddenly gave up sex. It is not. The book consists of short chapters, each one separate from the others (it's not a linear story). Each of these chapters simply tells of an experience she had as a person who is not dating. And they are not interesting or funny experiences, just dry retellings of what happened at X place on X day. At no point does the author go into an explanation or even the emotional aspect of why she gave up sex. There are no insights to be found here.

I gave 2 stars instead of 1 because the author does know how to write. But that makes it all the more frustrating, she COULD have written something meaningful, she has the writing skills. Instead it seems she was just trying to write an "artsy" book with no real point to it. Too bad the title is so misleading.

6 people found this helpful

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Top reviews from other countries

Amazon Customer

Brilliant

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on January 13, 2016

Verified Purchase

A very interesting read that does not insult the intelligence, a wonderful piece of writing

justanonlooker

A secret case study of the heart

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on April 15, 2014

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I found this book sophisticated in its story telling, intimacy and accuracy. It is structured beautifully, one chapter per 'encounter,' portraying such an honesty of feeling and sensitivity of emotion that it was almost a comfort to read. For anyone on the quiet side of life, this book is rich to share about experience of love, life and relationships. It was a pleasure to read and I think it is an honour that someone can write so frankly and openly.

2 people found this helpful

tula riemersma

a book I disliked

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on September 9, 2013

Verified Purchase

I did not like it at all. I thought it would have had more psychological explanation about sleeping alone. it had only some short stories I did not particularly thought interesting. I regret having bought it and it warned to always have a look in the bookshop first.

One person found this helpful

Rosemarie Wiley

Not a lot of substance!

Reviewed in Australia 🇦🇺 on April 15, 2014

Verified Purchase

Thought the book didn't contain a lot of substance. Understood her reasons but it became boring after awhile as you read about her conquests and reasons for sleeping with men. I wanted more of in depth comment it was really frivolous I thought.

gina

Alone does not mean being lonely

Reviewed in France 🇫🇷 on November 30, 2013

Verified Purchase

This is the whole punch of the book: how does one get to sleep alone without feeling lonely?
It entices one to assess whether by not giving into flesh, one can grow wiser and conserve its preciousness....

Fotanel's coincidences are mine too and it hence gives me a higher feeling of intimacy, of having shared and started at me while reading!

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