Françoise Hardy’s Timeless Grace Shines Through in Her Fascinating Memoir
Bob Dylan may have written a poem about her and Mick Jagger certainly proclaimed that she was his ideal woman and even David Bowie, quoted on the back of the book itself, admitted he was “desperately in love” with her, but Françoise Hardy reveals in her beautiful memoir that she has always been an introverted homebody who felt ugly growing up and had to overcome her natural shyness to become the French music icon she undoubtedly is now.
It’s certainly a surprise given Hardy’s super-cool, almost detached persona and seemingly effortless style, but the songs themselves have always been full of loneliness and melancholy, something she says she still prefers to portray in her music.
Hardy’s memoir, The Despair Of Monkeys And Other Trifles, was originally published in her homeland back in 2008 and due to her popularity in Europe was quickly translated into Spanish, Italian and German, selling millions of copies in the process, but this is the first time the book has ever been published in English. This is a thrilling prospect for her many English-speaking fans because Hardy has always been notoriously private and intriguingly mysterious.
Hardy’s introverted nature might be the cause of this but her book is surprisingly candid, particularly about her relationships with her family and her husband, French singer and actor, Jacques Dutronc, which may well leave you scratching your head but does sound very, well, French indeed.
Hardy and her younger sister Michele, were brought up by a hard-working single yet distant mother, their absent father a married man with another family who insisted on keeping his connection to them a secret. Things were made even worse for the young Françoise by a stern grandmother who preferred her sister and took every opportunity to denigrate her looks. “I grew up thinking I was more ugly than average,” she writes.
Her one comfort though was the music she heard on the radio, particularly the sounds she heard coming from America and England, and led to her asking for a guitar as a present for passing her baccalaureate (school diploma). She quickly took to writing songs and, despite her lack of confidence, made herself attend an open audition looking for young singers.
Although she wasn’t successful it wasn’t long before she found herself signed to the Disques Vogue record label in 1961 and the B-side to her first single (“Oh Cheri Cheri”), the self-penned “Tous les garçons et les filles,” caught the attention of radio stations all over France and Britain, selling over a million copies and turning her overnight into a star and one of the leading lights of the new French pop sound, Yé-Yé, while still a teenager.
The next chapters in the book detailing her whirlwind life as a pop star, model and, briefly, a movie star (apart from her role in the American movie Grand Prix, Hardy was not enamored with the hours waiting around on movie sets) and all the incredible people she met as a result, are fantastic and sure to delight any fan of ’60s music and culture.
She met Mick Jagger, who found even more “bewitching” in the flesh, went to dinner with two Beatles (Paul and George) and of course, visited with Bob Dylan, albeit briefly. Hardy admits she’s bored of being constantly asked about the Dylan meeting, where they hardly communicated due to the language barrier and she’s only discovered in later years just how enamored he was with her.
Nick Drake also took a shine to Hardy while she was recording in London in the early ’70s, hanging around the studio in silent adoration it seems. He even traveled to France to hang out with her one night although they barely spoke. What a shame the pair never collaborated!
There’s also plenty about her long friendship with Serge Gainsborough, who she worked with on her classic “Comment te dire adieu?”, as well as other French legends such as Sylvie Vartan, France Gall and Michel Berger, among many others.
Anyone interested in details about her records from this period will be disappointed though as Hardy seems embarrassed by her early records (even though most are wonderful) and doesn’t mention many. That said, she goes into far more detail with work from the ‘70s onward but she is highly critical of it all, although it does seem that her male collaborators often dictated to her against her better judgement. This may well be why the album La Question, her one collaboration with a female artist – the Brazilian musician Tuca – remains one of her best and she admits it’s one of her favorites.
One of the most frustrating things about the book, for me at least, is the details of her long relationship with Jacques Dutronc, to whom she is still married but separated. Although Dutronc was a huge heartthrob himself back in the ‘60s and has since become an acclaimed actor, it seems incredible that Hardy pined so much after him when Dutronc often barely seemed interested in her and obviously feared commitment. It was only after the birth of their son Thomas that they decided to live together (six years after their relationship began) and finally married in 1981 but only because a serious operation left Hardy fearing that Dutronc might lose their home, which was in her name, if she didn’t awake after.
Of course all Hardy’s years of anxiety about their relationship were put into her music and we have him to thank for it, but with his many indiscretions, as well as the pain and all the waiting he put Hardy through, you come away feeling that this beautiful and talented woman deserved much better and it was only her lack of self-esteem, instilled into her while a child, that left her willing to put up with so little. Still, there’s no doubt Hardy was helplessly in love with Dutronc.
The second half of the book spends a lot of time talking about Dutronc’s career as an actor (she is undoubtedly proud of his achievements), her life as a mother to their child (Thomas is now a successful musician in his own right and Hardy clearly adores him) and her growing interest in astrology, which she seems to be something of an expert (she’s written several books on the subject and had numerous columns, radio and TV shows over the years in France). The enjoyment of this probably depends on your interest in astrology but you have to admire her commitment and expertise in the subject.
The amount of French legends she has worked or been friends with over the years is pretty staggering and sometimes it’s hard to keep up with all the names she mentions, particularly those who are not as famous outside of France but it certainly is impressive.
She also talks quite frankly and, often movingly, about getting older as well as losing friends and family over the years including her mother, who she had a difficult and extremely complicated relationship with right up until the end, and her sister who had serious mental health problems.
Hardy certainly comes across as a very elegant and strong woman despite everything she’s been through and it’s clear that music still is hugely important to her and a motivating factor that keeps her moving on and helps her to continue aging gracefully. At the age of 74 she’s just released her 28th studio album, Personne d’autre, her first since battling lymphatic cancer that briefly left her in a coma. This part isn’t in the book but demonstrates just what a brave lady Hardy still is.
If you are wondering about the strange title, she only reveals it at the end of the book (which looks beautiful in hand by the way, and has some wonderful photographs included too). The Despair Of Monkeys is a Monkey Puzzle tree she often passes that she compares to the elusive and puzzling men who have been in her life. They may not treated this icon right but they certainly inspired some wonderful music and a beautiful book, too.
The Despair Of Monkeys And Other Trifles: A Memoir By Françoise Hardy is published by Feral House and is available to buy here
