Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry in the Headlines:
A Bibliography of Critical Periodical Reviews of the
Author-Aviator’s Oeuvre and Selected Adaptations and Translations
by Laura Spradlin
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (1900-1944) was not a one-note man. In his short 44-year life, he was a
recognized civil service as well as army pilot, journalist, prize-winning author, and screenwriter.
From those roles, the Frenchman built a legacy that spans countries, generations, genres, and
vocations. Influencing the worlds of literature, poetry, aviation, philosophy, cinema, children’s fairy
tales, and representing the epitome of nostalgia, Saint-Exupéry’s mark on the world started even
before his tragic, mysterious disappearance. While discoveries of events surrounding his death have
filled newspapers in recent years, Saint-Exupéry’s presence in newspapers, journals, and popular
periodicals dates back to the 1920s. By looking at reviews of his works at the time of their
publication in periodicals based out of France, America, and England, a comprehensive
understanding of his legacy and his public response begins to emerge. From cultural responses,
political context, multimedia ventures, and posthumously published works, Saint-Exupéry’s legacy
has evolved over time. What remains, and what is present throughout the bibliography, is that
despite the author-aviator’s changing roles, he has never left the foreground of the European and
American cultural landscape.
All citations were viewed in their original language in print (primarily by in bound volumes), by
microfilm, or via the Internet using various databases, including, but not limited to, Gallica, the
digital library of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France, and the ProQuest Historical Newspaper
Index. To preserve the aesthetics of the bibliography, I not included URLs but have indicated which
were found online and which were viewed by other means. This is done so that the reader may
search for the source using his or her preferred database and medium. Other sources consulted
include Stacy Schiff’s comprehensive biography, Saint-Exupéry (New York: Knopf, 1994); Cahiers
Saint-Exupery Vol. 1 (Paris: Gallimard 1980); the Icare’s Saint-Exupéry: 1900-1939, Premiere Epoque
(1974-1975, volume no. 69-71); N.R.F publishers catalogs; Succession Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
(www.antoinedesaintexupery.com); various editions of all of Saint-Exupéry’s authored works; and
several articles and stories from historical newspapers, namely The New York Times, Le Figaro, and Le
Matin. Throughout the bibliography, Antoine de Saint-Exupery will be referred to as “SE.”
______________________________________________________________________________
I. L’Aviateur (1926)
1. “L’Aviateur.” Le Navire d’Argent. Ed. Adrienne Monnier. 1 avril 1926: 278-287. Print.
The first of SE’s published works of fiction, “L’Aviateur” appeared in the French literary review Le
Navire d’Argent in the journal’s ninth month of publication. The review published works of writers
such as E.E. Cummings, Ernest Hemingway, and D.H. Lawrence, and SE’s original work of fiction
was placed in the April issue in the company of Rainer Maria Rilke, Blaise Cendrars, and French
writer and literary editor Jean Prévost. Prévost attached a paragraph to the end of SE’s selection,
providing a brief biography for SE (“un spécialiste de l’aviation et de la construction mécanique”)
but most notably praising his writing and finding promise in the young writer: “Cet art direct et ce
don de vérité me semblent surprenants chez un débutant.” A note also accompanies the beginning
of the chapter, explaining that these pages were taken from a longer novel, L’evasion de Jacques Bernis,
and only shortened because of space constraints. The chapter seen in this publication follows Bernis,
a pilot, as he returns home after a flight, with the real drama and detail of the story found in SE’s
descriptions of the flight itself. The longer novel was never published; however, many plot elements,
characters, and even direct passages of the story later became the basis for Courrier Sud.
II. Courrier Sud (1929)
Largely autobiographical, Courrier Sud comes from SE’s experience flying for the Aéropostale,
stationed out of Morrocco. The plot follows pilot Jacques Bernis on his air mail route from Toulous
to Dakar, the dangers of his flights, and his developing romance with his young love, Geneviève.
Later, SE worked on adapting the novel to the screen and supervised production.
1. Courrier Sud. Paris: Gallimard, 1929. 227 p.
-- C. “Lettres.” La Semaine à Paris. 28 juin 1929 – 5 juillet 1929: 70. Online. Author “C,”
writing for a weekly publication about all things important to Parisians, structures his review around
the autobiographical nature of the book, comparing the characters to SE (“aviateur héroïque et
fameux”) and grappling with the contradiction, or blurred lines, between the truth of the novel (“ce
n’est pas dans la rubrique ‘Romans’ que je traiterai de Courrier Sud ”) and the romanticization of the
account (“Qu’il ait romancé ses impressions…et nous y sommes d’ailleurs attachés de ce fait même
qu’elles sont vraies”). Unlike other reviewers who honor SE for his fresh treatment of aviation, C
notes that this story has been done before, and that is why it is important, and that is where its value
rests (“Qu’elle soit proche donne plus de prix à cet ouvrage tout frémissant d’émotions ressenties”).
Without rhapsodizing the book or SE, C writes a subtle review that praises the book’s humanity
above the glamorized depiction of flying.
2. Southern Mail. Trans. Stuart Gilbert. New York: Smith & Haas, 1933. 253 p.
-- Kronenberger, Louis. “‘Southern Mail,’ Successor to ‘Night Flight.’” New York Times. 8
October 1933: BR8. Online. With a slightly misleading title (the English translation of Courrier Sud
reached the United States a year after Night Flight, and years behind its French release),
Kronenberger’s review establishes SE as the utmost author of aviation, unparalleled to any other
writer’s attempts to describe “the detailed sensations of flight by air…[and transform] them into
something convincingly poetic.” With brief criticism of SE’s (now) signature artwork (“without…a
trace of grossness…not a trace of prettiness either”), Kronenberger’s mixed feelings about the
book—denouncing its lack of humanity but celebrating its glamorization of aviation—and his
speculation about the success of Gilbert’s translation (“prose which cannot lag much behind the
charm of the original”), make for a detailed yet ineffectual review of the work, still clearly identifying
SE’s importance in giving aviation significance.
3. Courrier Sud. Dir. Pierre Billon. Perf. Pierre Richard-Willam, Jany Holt, Raymond Aimos.
1937. Film.
-- Bernard, Gilbert. “Courrier Sud, film français tourne en France.” Le Matin. 25 janvier
1937: 6. Eight years after the French release of the novel, Pierre Billon’s French film adaptation was
much discussed in French news publications, from casting choices to the film’s profits (all of which
2 went to “victimes de l’air,” according to a January 15 issue of Le Matin). Even though it was released
one year after his screenplay, Anne-Marie, hit theaters, this appears to be the action- and flightcentered film French audiences were waiting for (“Exupery de nous donner enfin un grand film sur
l’aviation civile”). Bernard is an ideal critic to review this film, himself an ex-pilot. His first-hand
experience gives him authority to confirm how difficult it is to capture the feeling and images of
being in the air and plummeting toward the ground. Like other critics, he applauds SE for turning a
dull vocation into adventure, turning aviators into heros (« la monotonie du voyage disparaissent
lorsqu’elles sont traites par un auteur de talent dans un volume exalte et lyrique”).
-- Jacob, Emmanuel. “Cinéma : Courrier Sud, au Marignan.” La Semaine à Paris. 29 janvier
– 4 février 1937: 19. Jacob finds the film adaptation of Courrier Sud full of adventure and romance,
and, commendably, he spends time explaining why the original work lent itself well to a film
adaptation (“Le bref ouvrage de SE vibre et frémit : bruit d’ailes et vent de passion…Ce fut une
ambition honorable et démesurée qui poussa Pierre Billon à le porter à l’écran”). Jacob’s review is
filled with noteworthy details that give context to the film’s release : he prefers the American version
of Vol de Nuit. While France claimed ownership to SE, American film studios were the first to bring
one of his novels to the silver screen, and with much success. Courrier Sud, the film, did not receive
the same overwhelmingly positive reception or critical notice in America that Night Flight did in
France in 1934. Regardless, Courrier Sud was a unique addition to popular French films; as Jacob
describes, it let the common man be the subject of drama and adventure (“Comme se plonge dans la
banalité le drame d’amour sacrifie au devoir quotidien!”).
III. Vol de Nuit (1931)
With more critical attention devoted to SE’s second major novel, this book took SE from a new
author to a groundbreaker in aviation literature. The plot follows Fabien, an airmail pilot, on an
assignment from his boss, Rivière, to fly through the night during a dangerous storm. Winner of the
Prix Femina in 1931.
1. Vol de nuit. Paris: Gallimard, 1931. Pref. by André Gide. 171 p.
-- Morgat, Pierre. “Aviation et literature.” Le Jardin des letters: Revue mensuelle de tous les
livres français et du mouvement intellectuel contemporain. Août – septembre 1931: 5. Online. In
this monthly, relatively short-lived (1930-1939) French review of literature and other intellectual
endeavors, Morgat places into his essay a complete review of Courrier Sud, written the year before by
another reviewer. Because Vol de Nuit was only SE’s second major publication, reprinting the review
serves to introduce unfamiliar readers to SE; as a result, Morgat reiterates the other reviewer’s
perception (impressed and pleasantly surprised by the author’s humanity and heroics: “le plaisir pour
nous n’est pas de surprendre l’écrivain dans le héros, mais de retrouver l’homme derrière l’écrivain”).
Morgat’s review draws on the unexpected danger of a seemingly quiet profession (“de ne pas
chômer la nuit, les hommes se trouvèrent en face d’un monde nouveau à explorer et à conquérir”)
and praises SE’s portrait of the quiet heroics of “l’aviation postale” (“l’histoire vraie d’une conquête
dont le public ignore encore”). The French reviewer’s considerable attention to aviation establishes
its importance in “le mouvement intellectuel contemporaine” in France (“une source nouvelle
d’inspiration”) and his thoughtful consideration of SE acknowledges his role in bringing the subject
to life.
3 -- Maurois, André. “A French Flier in South America.” New York Times. 6 September 1931:
47. Online. French critic and novelist Maurois, critiquing the French novel before the English
translation appeared in the United States, finds that SE’s role as aviator and author puts him in the
unique position of revealing unknown beauty to the world. SE’s friend and fellow author André
Gide is to thank for directing Maurois’s attention (as well as the notice of many other literary
enthusiasts and particularly the worlds of French publishing and literary critique) to the book.
Maurois’s review, which reads more as a fond remembrance than a critique (“In this book I find two
features to be remembered particularly”) praises the novel’s ability to give beauty and intimacy to the
air as well as its “very simple and very genuine” depiction of heroism, or what Gide describes as,
“the acceptance of duty.”
-- Bidou, Henry. “Le mouvement littéraire.” La Revue de Paris. Novembre – décembre 1931:
923-932. Online. In this longstanding French literary magazine (started in 1829), Bidou splits his
focus between two books, first commenting on SE’s possible “chef d’oeuvre” (or at the very least,
his “un morceau excellent”). Although he commends SE’s efforts in this precise novella filled with
“vérité et vigueur” and not short of “grandeur,” his review takes opposing opinions on the book’s
character development and action. While Bidou finds it hard to believe that a “homme d’action”
could describe these events so well, he also questions the believability of the characters (“Même s’il
est exact, le portrait est peu vivant. Comment le serait-il ? Comment pouvons-nous croire réel un
personnage qui parle ainsi à lui-même ?”). Only because it is “littérature,” he claims, is how we
become invested; he does not comment on the autobiographical nature of SE’s work. Although the
review contradicts itself on some occassions, it ultimately speaks in favor of the book, and identifies
SE’s strength in capturing the isolation one feels when alone at night in the sky. And, although
Bidou is skeptical about the believability of some of the book’s characters, it is apparent from SE’s
career and letters that many of his books were developed and inspired from a place of isolation he
experienced himself.
-- Bouché, Henri. “Comptes-Renus.” Europe. 15 décembre 1931: 581-583. Online. Printed in
the long-running monthly French literary magazine Europe (1923-present), Bouché’s review is written
after his seventh read through the novel, and the depth of his analysis reflects his thoroughness.
With grand superlative statements (“la meilleure et la plus vraie des œuvres littéraires qui aient jamais
été inspirées par l’aviation”), Bouche’s dissection of the philosophy of each character is a welcomed
insight to what he belives is the true heart of the novel (« Le courage de ces équipages de l’aviation
marchande, il est vraiment le ressort secret de tout le livre ») and to what drives the book: “le moteur
humain de ces avions.” His review, written not for the apathetic reader, is poignant, and he brings in
several references to Gide and Lindbergh (unclear if he refers to Charles or Anne Morrow). Without
any commentary on SE’s background as a pilot, he does reference the writer’s first published
attempt, perceiving enormous growth since Courrier Sud (“Le premier livre de SE…apportait une
promesse encore incertaine…D’une œuvre à l’autre, l’auteur marque un immense progrès”). A
lengthy review, Bouché’s insights give the novel a high level of literary merit.
2. Night Flight. Trans. Stuart Gilbert. New York: The Century Company, 1932. 198 p.
-- Kronenberger, Louis. “A Vivid and Poetic Tale of the Air.” New York Times. 14 August
1932: BR7. Online. Before SE, aviation, according to Kronenberger, was nothing more to
Americans than cheap thrills: “This novelette is perhaps the first book to treat of aviation with any
significance.” SE is appreciated for establishing aviation as a relevant and poetic endeavor through
his own poetic efforts: “Night Flight…brings aviation close to the realism of modern life by making it
one of the factors of modern life.” Without stating the extent to which Night Flight is based on real
4 events, Kronenberger does mention that SE is an “experienced flier.” The review, filled with
glowing praises of SE’s romantization of aviation, is a bit romantic itself (“The combination of
beauty and doom creates real poetry and takes our breath”) and also critiques the novel’s
fragmentary nature as well as Gilbert’s lackluster translation (“a translation, while competent
enough, obviously fails to do [the passages] justice”).
3. Night Flight. Dir. Clarence Brown. Perf. Clark Gable, John Barrymore, Helen Hayes.
1933. Film.
-- Faneuse, Jacques. “Peinture et cinéma.” L’Avion: Organe mensuel de l’Union des pilotes
civils de France. Février 1934: 4. Online. In this successful monthly publication, written by a
union of French aviators, Faneuse’s position as a pilot and his loyalty to aviation above art gives him
a uniquely expert status to critique the content and believability of the film. Extremely skeptical
going into the premiere (“la tentation aussi d’agrementer le film d’une serie d’acrobatics aériennes
telles que les United States ont coutume d’en user aussitôt que licence leur est donnée de grimper”),
Faneuse’s review quickly turns favorable as he is pleasantly surprised by the restraint shown by the
filmmakers (“il a résisté à toutes les tentations”) and their strict adherence to the novel (“son
dialogue colle littéralement aux phrases du roman”). Faneuse admires SE’s accuracy, truthfulness,
and poignancy, and his only criticism of the film is a powerful tribute to SE’s prose: “La seule chose
qu’il ne pouvait pas nous restituer, c’est la beauté émouvante de sa langue et ce frisson intérieur qui
vous poigne à sa lecture parce que l’homme qui écrivit ce chef d’œuvre le vécut avant de le créer.”
The review has a powerful distinction from other reviews because Faneuse is so connected to the
profession, making his connection to SE even more profound and even more of a testimony to SE’s
skill and artistry.
-- Werth, Léon. “Quelques thèmes de Vol de ‘Nuit.’” Europe. 16 juin 1934: 281. Online.
Werth, a well-known art critic and “the closest friend [SE] made outside the Aéropostale family”
(Schiff 229), writes a compelling review analyzing the differences between the book and the film.
The review was published three years after first meeting SE, and Le Petit Prince and Lettre à un Otage
would later be dedicated to Werth. With detailed examples, Werth gives an insightful look into how
thematic or story sequences can change from narration (“une note d’analyse intérieure”) to “mis en
scène.” Unconvinced that the film is an exact representation of the short novel (“Sans doute il la
grossit et la vulgarise”) and aware of the many changes made in the film adaptation, Werth is at least
satisfied that the movie gives pilots a heroic image.
-- Hall, Mordaunt. “John and Lionel Barrymore, Helen Hayes and Others in a Pictorial
Adaptation of ‘Night Flight.’” New York Times. 7 October 1933: 18. Online. Mordaunt’s
review of Vol de Nuit’s film adaptation appears in the NYT one day before Kronenberger’s review of
Southern Flight and a week before another glowing review of the film appeared in the newspaper
(“‘Night Flight’ an Absorbing Film,” also by Mordaunt), illustrating America’s enthrallment with the
man who made aviation appealing for both romantics and adventurers. Heavily focused on the
aviation aspect of the film, the review makes a note of the film’s “meticulous attention to details of
flying”; labels it “the most authentic flying story tat has come to the screen”; and identifies SE as a
“French air-mail pilot” rather than author. While he makes no comparison to the novel, Mordaunt
praises the characters and their actors’ portrayals, dedicating most of the review to the “thrilling
glimpses of an airplane” or “the most effective…glimpses of pilots in the planes.”
5 4. Volo di notte. Comp. Luigi Dallapiccola. 1940. Opera.
-- Pont, Henri de Carsalade du. “L’activite des theatres lyriques.” Études. Février 1961: 282.
Online. A brief review, Pont recognizes that French attendees of this opera or readers of this
journal are undoubtedly already familiar with this story (“On connait l’histoire de Rivière”). He finds
that the production is well done, but SE is the only person to thank for the opera’s engrossing
drama (“Les péripéties du drame tiennent le spectateur en haleine, mais le mérite en revient au seul
SE”); the music adds nothing (“n’apporte pas grand-chose”) to his original text. Pont brings
interesting comparisons to the book and the opera (making no reference to the film), but ultimately
concludes that a few passages in operatic form do not bring anything new or interesting to SE’s
work. A persuasive review.
-- Hughes, Allen. “A Late Premiere of a Dallapiccola: Manhattan School Presents 1940 ‘Volo
di Notte’ Here.” New York Times. 11 March 1967: 18. Online. Although this review is of a local
performance, it is notable because it is the first New York performance of Volo di notte, coming to
the American art-hub twenty-seven years after its European debut. Hughes is slightly impressed that
SE’s original book is “said to have been based on fact,” yet he makes it known that its premise is not
as relevant in this age as in decades before (“when night-flying was a dangerous adventure”; “hightension material, at least for those who remember when flying was still an adventure”). The drama of
the story is lost in operatic form, as action and dramatic details and images are not as easily captured
by song and dialogue. Hughes notes that this hurts the overall effect (“the plight of the pilot is
something we have to imagine”), suggesting that the opera does not fairly represent SE’s work. Set
apart from the book or movie, the opera appears to have few redeeming qualities.
5. The Spirit of Adventure. Dir. Desmond Davis. Perf. Trevor Howard. 1979. TV film.
-- Zito, Tom. “Night Flight.” The Washington Post. 26 January 1979: B5. Online. Although
Zito acknowledges that the novel this made-for-TV movie was based on is short (“its scant 80
pages”), he criticizes the film adaptation for not being able to recreate in 30 minutes what SE
captured in 80 pages. The review, also brief but not inconsequential, manages to praise SE’s
depiction of “the hopes and fears, discipline and recklessness of fliers…and human beings in
general” and condemn the film’s “stick figure” characters and lack of dedication to the novel’s
original scope (“the television version…[is] a story really confined to one man”). However, what is
notable is that almost 50 years after the book’s first French publication, a write-up of this short,
non-box office film adaptation of SE’s novel receives fairly substantial space in the Post. SE is
praised numerous times in the review, and, rather than encourage viewers to tune in, it persuades
readers to revisit the novel.
IV. Anne-Marie (1936)
After quickly writing the screenplay for Anne-Marie (which originated as a film and was not meant to
be a novel), SE sold it to filmmaker Raymond Bernard. The film, which Stacy Schiff calls “the
frothiest of [SE’s] literary efforts” (247), features a young female engineer, Anne-Marie, working
with a close-knit group of five male pilots who take Anne-Marie under their collective wing. With
more romance than adventure, the group attempts to keep Anne-Marie from love. Their efforts fail,
as Anne-Marie marries an inventor who saves her life in flight.
1. Anne-Marie. Dir. Raymond Bernard. Perf. Annabella, Pierre Richard-Willm.1936. Film.
6 -- Bernard, Gilbert. “Les Nouveaux Films : Madeleine—Anne-Marie.” Le Matin. 8 mars
1936. Online. While Schiff notes that Anne-Marie “set no box office records” (247), Bernard does
not have a strong disliking (nor an eager affinity) for the film. He is a fan of SE (and is not the only
critic to compare him to Greek mythological figure Icarus), and while he admires his passion for
flying, Bernard believes SE is “plus encore écrivain que pilote.” Not only a noteworthy review
because of its coverage of this rather unpopular film, Bernard touches on the “curiosité” with which
“nous” waited for SE to enter the world of cinematography. Interestingly, he notes that SE had no
involvement with Hollywood’s Vol de Nuit, and SE’s first venture into screenwriting marks France’s
first uniquely propre Exupery film experience. Bernard’s comments suggest that it was no meager
effort (as SE worked “avec un de nos meilleurs réalisateurs français”), and he enjoyed SE’s “forte et
harmonieuse” language. Critical of the film’s characters (“artificiel”), Bernard writes an enlightening
review that neither dissuades nor persuades readers to see the film.
V. Terre des hommes (1939)
Another autobiographical work, the novel is based on SE’s years spent flying for Aéropostale across
the Sahara, specifically a crash he experienced that left him deserted for an extended period of time.
Winner of Grand Prix du roman by the Académie Française and Best Work of Nonfiction published
in 1939 by American Booksellers Association.
1. Terre des hommes. Paris: Gallimard, 1939. 219 p.
-- Rousseaux, André. “La vie littéraire.” Le Figaro. 25 mars 1939: 6. Microfilm. Rousseaux, a
common critic of SE, knows his work and tendencies well (“Quand il n'écrit plus du haut de son
avion, et qu'il commence à croire à son encrier sa philosophie est plus confuse”) and believes that
SE can always see more clearly when he is in the air. However, Rousseaux finds this contemplative
work to be the exception; in fact, he believes it should be required reading “dans tous les lycées et
collèges, dans toutes les écoles de jeunes gens. ” It is a philosophy heavy review, considering
primarily the excellent balance SE strikes between death and life, between living in solitude and
being connected to men (“Liens avec la terre, liens avec les autres hommes, car il n’y a pas de vraie
vie d’homme qui ne se sente solidaire de toutes les vies humaines”). Terre des hommes evokes powerful
musings and memories from Rousseaux, primarily of the earth and its creatures. He finds SE’s
ability to find freedom in a desolate place like the desert remarkable (“la fierté d’observer avec son
intelligence d’homme la vie des plantes et es animaux pour qui le désert n’est pas mortel”).
Rousseaux crafts an intellectual and thoughtful review of one of his philosophical idols.
-- Combelle, Lucien. “‘Terre des hommes, par Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.” Arts et idées :
Revue mensuelle. Décembre 1937: 28-29. Online. Combelle, the editor of this Parisian publication,
writes a review concerned primarily with the philosophy of SE, at this point a well-known author
and celebrated pilot for l’Aéropostale in France. The review, positioned on the page immediately
after a review of existentialist Jean Paul Sartre’s Le Mur, argues that the importance and usefulness of
SE’s bright optimism is best appreciated after reading Sartre himself. While Combelle does not want
to escape from the bleakness and of the world (“nous ne partageons pas l’optimisme de l’auteur, sa
confiance et sa ferveur”), he recognizes SE’s illustration of the triumph of man as “une belle luere
d’éspoir,” rejuvenating in its powerfully and beautifully written words (“un poème sobre et dense”).
While the review’s tone is itself bleak, Combelle’s philosophical view of SE and the inclusion of this
7 review in a publication primarily concerned with philosophy (during a time in Paris when
philosophers abound) make for a diverse and intriguing opinion.
2. Wind, Sand and Stars. Trans. Lewis Galantière. New York: Reynal & Hitchcock, Inc.,
1939. 306 p. Illustrations by John O’Hara Cosgrave.
-- Leighton, Clare. “A Poet-Philosopher of the Air.” New York Times. 18 June 1939: 79.
Online. After a long anecdote, Leighton reveals that SE is the “poet-philosopher air pilot” she had
once, quite literally, dreamed of. Defining this work as SE’s “credo,” her review idolizes SE (“[he]
must be a man of great human tenderness…He is certainly a creature of great understanding”) and
finds comfort that SE possesses “serene optimism” for humanity and the age of “the machine.”
Leighton writes the review from the perspective of an anxious, shell-shocked skeptic (“is it not a fact
that I, a European, give an involuntary shudder each time I hear in the sky the hum of an
airplane?”), who believes that SE’s calm sensibility and fearless acceptance of the modern age should
become a credo for everyone to “retain our pride in humanity and our excitement in this modern
age.” With sufficient analysis of plot and background of SE, Leighton’s convincing review calls for
readers to be devoted followers of SE’s philosophy.
-- Gates, Barrington. “Bird’s-Eye View: An Airman Broods in the Spirit.” The Times Literary
Supplement. 23 September 1939: 548. Online. Although it is the third book of SE’s to focus on
aviation, Barrington introduces his review with a familiar comment on the lack of significant
“records of the air” and the stiffness of aviation (“At the moment, airmen are mechanicadventurers”). Unconvinced that all pilots are poets, Barrington changes his apathetic tone to one of
admiration for SE’s poetics and expertise in description (“the illumination, sharp but never final,
which his images awake”). Reasonably wary of reviewing a book that is not the original author’s
words (without specifically condemning Galantière’s work), he specifically calls SE’s book a work of
poetry rather than prose or philosophy. Barrington writes a review that, while praising the author’s
writing and perspective, takes an indifferent opinion on the content of the novel, a position that
suggests SE’s strength lies in his ability to evoke a reaction from his words rather than the action
they describe.
-- Lindbergh, Anne Morrow. “Adventurous Writing.” The Saturday Review. 14 October 1939:
8-9. Print. Having met SE in the same year she wrote this critical essay, Lindbergh formed a quick
and intense connection to SE—not only were they both aviators, both were authors, and Lindbergh
became an admirer not only of his work but of the man himself. After SE’s death, Stacy Schiff
writes in Saint-Exupery, Lindbergh “was to pass through every stage of grief on the Frenchman’s
account, which loss she compared to that of her sister or her baby.” Lindbergh wrote about her
friend several times, and conversely he wrote a preface to her book, Listen! The Wind. The title of her
review is somewhat facetious, as much of her essay is spent arguing that the adventure of the novel
comes from not merely the circumstances, but “the author’s mind”: “[The novel] is
heightened…because of the plummet-awareness of a poet, which pierces, like a spear through a
man, the object of his attention, straight to the heart of the world.” As she argues that the book’s
success comes from “spiritual adventure,” and as she diverts to tales of her own writing and flying, it
is evident that she defends SE’s writing from a place of authority, both in terms of literary
qualifications and aviation. Although their personal friendship was relatively new when the review
was written, Lindbergh’s deep connection to SE and his writing is certainly obvious, but not
distracting, in her critique.
8 VI. Pilote de guerre (1942)
Published in America before its French release in December of 1942 (after earning approval from
the German censors in France, who did enforce censorship of one line in the novel), Flight to Arras’s
popularity outlasted its availability—after selling out in one week, it was then banned in France
because of the novel’s explicit depiction of a Jewish soldier’s heroics, seen as treasonous by the Nazi
cause. Those who sided with SE’s politics were not stopped, and editions were made without
government approval and released in 1943 and 1944 (Schiff 365-366). It is with this work that public
perception of SE shifts, as seen in a transition in reviews from being heavily focused on SE’s identity
as an aviator who writes poetically to that of a poet.
1. Pilote de guerre. New York: Editions de la Maison Française, inc., 1942. Unavailable for
examination.
2. Flight to Arras. Trans. Lewis Galantière. Illustrations by Bernard Lamotte. New York:
Harcourt Brace & Company, 1942. 255 p.
-- Fadiman, Clifton. “Beyond Defeat.” The New Yorker. 21 February 1942: 57-58. Print.
Once again, a work of SE’s is defined as a credo, but rather than for a generation entering into a new
modern age, it is for “a fighting man to whom the ordinary reasons for fighting have proved
unsatisfactory.” Although not entirely convinced of the novel’s success (separate from its
importance), Fadiman makes an noteworthy compliment that while SE’s work comes from personal
experience, it “rise[s] above that personal experience, and…above the whole action of the war
itself,” defining SE’s universality. In a familiar vein, Fadiman calls SE a poet (“his language is his
meaning”), yet ridicules his language (“It is not always lucid, it is extravagant, it is even hysterical at
times”). Fadiman’s review, containing more politics than others (“It is…against the SaintExuperys…that the Nazis fight, knowing well who their final enemy is”), reads as begrudgingly
favorable toward the novel.
- Edman, Irwin. “A Frenchman Beyond Defeat or Despair.” New York Herald Tribune
Books. 22 February 1942: 1-2. Microfilm. Edman supposes it is rare to find a pilot who can
recreate the essence of flying in more than one classic book, and yet here SE has managed to write a
second classic. Edman points out that this account, written about war during war, sets it far apart
from other books of vocational aviation. Furthermore, the wartime context of the review justifies
Edman’s dramatic language (“in a peculiarly tragic and incredible segment of this war…when gallant
men were gulping death quietly aware that their unquestioning gestures were futile”). The tense
situation of the country made SE’s action- and emotion-filled book powerfully relatable and
poignant (“it plumbs through…the strange exaltation of combat, to the desperate serenities of a
defeat beyond despair”; “It makes plangently and sometimes painfully real a single flight”). “Captain
St. Exupéry,” Edman calls him, “sees and makes the reader see what ever moment looks like” in the
dangerous flight. Written with passion and a sense of awe and gratitude for what SE created (and an
appreciation for the book’s illustrations), Edman’s review is a snapshot into the high-emotions of
the time period.
-- Woods, Katherine. “Flight in the Face of Death.” New York Times Book Review. 22
February 1942: 1, 16. Print. Written in vivid detail, Wood’s full- and front-page review reads as
though she is sharing the heart wrenching, engrossing personal account of a close friend. The
intensity of her review reflects the intensity of SE’s war-themed book, further heightened by its
9 release during wartime. Despite her appreciation for the action in the novel, Woods exalts SE’s acute
insight into a man’s psyche during war and defeat (“Its deeper scrutiny is of the soul of man”) as
well as to what she calls the novel’s chief distinguishing characteristic: it is literature (“it moves
naturally from the instant’s sharp individual consciousness to the searching of all life”). In praising
its literary merit, she makes no comment on its known autobiographical nature. Woods, who would
later become the first translator for SE’s Le Petit Prince, takes time to praise Galantière’s careful
translation. It is a review with no explicit political agenda (from an American perspective published
in an American newspaper), but that praises SE as “genius” and “prophet” primarily for his
perception and philosophy.
-- Benét, William Rose. “Flight of the Spirit.” The Saturday Review. 28 February 1942: 6.
Print. Unwavering in his stance, Benét classifies SE as a poet and his work as a poem, a common
label ardently argued for by several reviewers when discussing several of SE’s works of “prose.” As
he patronizes ignorant readers (“But even the unimaginative and the dull, if they once begin this
book, will be caught up in a flight”), he proclaims the complexity of this narrative of defeat and its
“meticulous” and thorough insight into an airman’s duties and soul. Galantière’s translation is once
again praised (“[it] appears to preserve every nuance of the author’s style”), but not as highly as SE’s
unique take on defeat (“never in a book that I have read on this war has the whole overhanging pall
of defeat…been more impressively drawn”). Without any negative comment on the book, Benét’s
full-page review is not beautifully written but is undoubtedly convincing.
-- Toynbee, Philip. “New Novels.” New Statesman and Nation. 10 October 1942: 245-246.
Print. Immediately noting that SE’s book does not exactly belong in a category of novels nor
alongside other war accounts, Toynbee’s review in this British publication finds SE’s book to be
“confused” and SE an insufficient philosopher (“in his intellectual conclusions he is less at ease”).
Toynbee acknowledges SE’s gifts as a writer (as well as “man of action” and “introvert”), but is
unsatisfied by the end result (“in the flood of words that end the book, I could only find a confused
Whitmanism…far too repetitive even to be effective”). The review itself spends much time with
unclear trains of thought and a vague plot summary, a reflection of either his confusion about the
work or his distaste for SE’s philosophy. With high regard for the translator (“who was translated
the book with subtlety and discretion”), Toynbee’s negative comments on the book yet high praise
for the writer himself provide an interesting perspective on this highly philosophical work and on
SE’s many roles in society—poet, pilot, and perhaps philosopher.
VII. Le Petit Prince (1943)
Now translated in over 250 languages and with over 200 million copies sold, Le Petit Prince has
inspired countless adaptations: animated television series (“The Adventures of the Little Prince,”
1982, reviewed in a 1985 issues of The New York Times), sequels (The Return of the Little Prince),
children’s book series (Gallimard’s Le Petit Prince… series), bilingual teaching aids (I am the Little
Prince=Je suis le Petit Prince, 2003), and more. Similar to Pilot de guerre, this work was banned in France
during the occupation, and was first published in New York while SE was in exile in America. In the
story, the narrator (presumably SE) meets a “little prince” after crashing in the desert.
1. Le Petit Prince: avec dessins de l’auteur. New York: Reynal and Hitchcock, 1944. 91 p.
10 -- Jouve, Raymond. “Revue des livres.” Études. Janvier-février 1945: 134. The review of Le Petit
Prince, a story written in a “grate-ciel new-yorkais” comes to this French journal two years after the
novel’s original release in America and one year after SE’s disapperance. The recent events
surrounding SE taint this review with mystery and nostalgia (“est-il vraiment le dernier mot, le
testament de l’auteur ?”). However, Jouve also celebrates his body of work (Pilote de Guerre, Jouve
believes, being the le plus beau) and “la vie nostalgie de l’énfance” that SE appeared to have lived.
Jouve immediately acknowledges that one may place this particular work in the realm of children’s
books (“d’un conte de fées aux jolis dessins gauches”), but opposes that view and claims it is actually
for adults. Without discussing the content of the book or placing any critical commentary on the
drawings, Jouve’s review is melancholy and yet a genial tribute to the author and his equally
enchanting work.
2. The Little Prince. Trans. Katherine Woods. New York: Reynal and Hitchcock, 1943. 91 p.
-- Chamberlain, John. “Books of the Times.” New York Times. 6 April 1943: 19. Online.
Although oddly organized and rambling at times, Chamberlain’s review provides enough details of
the book, the illustrations, and an analysis of children’s versus adult books to be valuable. Consistent
with popular opinion of The Little Prince at the time, Chamberlain speculates about children’s
enjoyment of the book (“Children will probably be amused by the sequence of events”), and
believes adults will enjoy it not merely for the philosophy, but on a more basic level (“Yes, the adults
among whom the Little Prince adventured were odd indeed…they inevitably remind a reader of
himself and his friends”). From Chamberlain’s review, he seems to suggest that the only reason
children would enjoy it is for the talking animals (“I can’t visualize the colloquy with the drunkard
provoking anything but blank comprehension”). Informal and personable, Chamberlain does not
put SE on a philosophical pedestal.
-- Travers, P.L. “Across the Sand Dunes to the Prince’s Star.” New York Herald Weekly
Book Review. 11 April 1943: 5. Microfilm. To have P.L. Travers, well-known author of Mary
Poppins (in its third volume in the series by 1943), write this review is a choice that suggests the
Herald Book Review was eager to place The Little Prince in the same realm of children’s books or to at
least make it appealing to the same audience as Travers’s own writing. And, additionally, having SE’s
book reviewed by a fellow popular writer suggests SE’s own status as an established author.
Eloquent and effective (“We eat the indigestible stuff of our own hearts in silence, for we have not
learnt to find the hidden companion within ourselves”; “To be understood [the book] needs a heart
stretched to the utmost by suffering and love”), Travers comes from a place of authority of fairy
tales, children’s minds, and SE’s other works, seeing the early workings of The Little Prince in Wind,
Sand and Stars. A valuable read not just because of the beautifully written description or the
reviewer’s celebrity, the review discusses in depth the blurred line between a book for children and
for adults (“Not that it matters, for children are like sponges. They soak into their pores the essence
of any book they read”) and although he claims he “cannot tell” who is the audience for this book,
his convincing arguments suggest it is indeed for all adults (“A short book, but long enough to
remind us that we are all involved in its meaning”). SE’s “charming” illustrations are pictured
alongside the review.
-- Sherman, Beatrice. “A Prince of Lonely Space.” New York Times. 11 April 1943: BR9.
Online. Although most of the review is spent summarizing important plot elements of elements,
Sherman eloquently addresses the question of the book’s audience without ever explicitly stating it
needed to be addressed: “a parable for grown people in the guise of a simple story for children.” Her
review also provides significant commentary on the illustrations (“clean…ethereal fragile texture of
11 wind and stars and light”) and finds the translation to be “admirably done” in preserving the
cadence, subtlety, and “significant undertones” of the original. Published with illustrations from the
book, Sherman’s review is clean, agreeable, and detailed.
3. The Little Prince. Dir. Stanley Donen. Perf. Steven Warner. Joss Ackland. Richard Kiley.
1974. Film.
-- Boyum, Joy Gould. “The Strangest Child You’ve Ever Seen.” Wall Street Journal. 11
November 1974: 14. Online. In this well executed review, Boyum raises important issues that
touch on the questions that have surrounded Le Petit Prince since its first publication: who is it
written for—nostalgic adults or imaginative children? And how does one define a children’s book?
From Boyum’s observations, the only reason one would consider The Little Prince a children’s book is
because it is short, has “spaciously printed pages” and “simply drawn illustrations,” an interesting
commentary on how the general public identifies and defines children’s literature. With no
disrespect to SE’s original work (a “classic,” she labels it), Boyum’s analysis goes into the
filmmaker’s obvious confusion in adapting this definitive work for the big screen (their “supreme
effort…to make a dramatic film out of a philosophical piece of literature”). Her commentary is
reminiscent of earlier reviews of SE’s novels, when critics classified SE as strictly a poet—his
meaning, they argued, was found in his words and on the page, its essence lost even when read
aloud. So, this begs the question, how does one make a movie out of poetry? And for whom is the
movie made? Boyum argues that in being faithful to the original book, the filmmakers produced a
hodgepodge of bright colors and magic, as well as the isolation and solitude for which SE was so
well known. Her truthful review is appreciated for raising these questions, which she finds the film
fails to answer.
-- Canby, Vincent. “‘The Little Prince’ Is An Important Disappointment.” New York Times.
17 November 1974: 169. Online. An interesting foil to Boyum’s Wall Street Journal review, Canby
finds fault in the film primarily because he believes its source, the original work by SE, was so
“frail.” With more anti-Exupery commentary than many other critical responses to SE (“this level of
anti-intellectualism…I suspect is harmless…and simplistic”), Canby does not find any value in the
content of the story (about a “neurotic aviator”) or dialogue (“full of the sort of SE philosophy that
better belongs in fortune cookies”). Unlike Boyum, who despised the film’s score, Canby believes it
is one of the film’s most important and likeable elements (“a sheer delight”). Although his tone is
extreme, his perspective suggests that either 1970s America was not interested in the nostalgia and
optimistic philosophy that SE proclaimed, or The Little Prince may not have been as classic as one
would think (although its millions copies sold and hundreds of translations either suggests otherwise
or raises the question of what makes a book a classic). Also unlike many other reviews of The Little
Prince, Canby makes no reference to the question of the book or film’s audience (however, he does
believe the filmmakers should have “left this not really modern fairy tale to the Disney
organization”). With this different perspective, fans of SE may be annoyed by Canby’s snide
remarks, but nonetheless, his opinion should be considered.
4. The Little Prince. Trans. Richard Howard. San Diego: Harcourt, 2000. 83 p.
-- Kipen, David. “A Charmless New Version of ‘Prince.’” The San Francisco Chronicle. 21
June 2000: E1. Online. As indicated by the review’s title, Kipen is less than impressed with the
newly released translation and packaging (to commemorate SE’s 100th birthday) of a story he loves
and ardently defends. With fervor, he dismisses the translation’s merit (“this feeble book-length
paraphrase”; “reading…Howard’s new translation…resembles walking at one’s leisure toward a
lukewarm can of New Coke”) and provides specific examples of where he feels the book fails. By
12 2000, four other English versions were in print, and Kipen holds Katherine Woods’ original as the
highest standard (he does state that he memorized Woods’s version for a stage production, not
explicitly admitting to this bias). Howard, a celebrated translator as well as poet, is criticized for
turning phrases to be more casual and modern (“I’d walk very slowly toward a water fountain”
rather than Woods’ “I should walk at my leisure toward a spring of fresh water”). Despite his
painfully detailed analysis of certain passages, Kipen’s review gives a fresh insight into the experience
of reading and loving a book as a child (children’s book or not) and then again as an adult.
5. The Little Prince: A Magical Opera. Comp. Rachel Portman. 2003. Houston. Opera.
-- Midgette, Anne. “City Opera Review: From Grown-Ups, a ‘Little Prince’ for Children.”
New York Times. 14 November 2005: E1. Online. Over sixty-years since its publication, The Little
Prince appears to be just as perplexing for critics and audiences as it was in 1943. Midgette’s review is
equally perplexing, but her modern perspective is insightful. Midgette finds that adults resonate with
the nostalgia of SE’s book (“one of those stories that adults cling to long after childhood”), and,
without a strong opinion and with a contradictory opinion, seems to suggest that she does not think
it should be considered a children’s book (“It is interesting that [SE’s] classic novella…is widely
viewed as a children’s book”; “less faithful retellings…of what a fabulous work for children can
include”). After a brief history of The Little Prince’s other musical attempt (“a noble failure”),
Midgette’s review commends Rachel Portman’s operatic interpretation for being appealing to
children, but not necessarily as an honorable translation (“I hope [the opera’s] target audience—not
necessarily lovers of the book—will enjoy it”). As opposed to the many interpretations that draw out
color and magic from the book’s contents, Midgette believes that the sparseness should be preserved
(“It’s odd that [it] should inspire such colorful outpourings…the black-and-white drawings so
essential to the story”). While the review lacks strength and support in its analysis, the idea that the
solitude, maturity, and sparseness of the book should have been better well preserved are unique in
America and in the 21st century.
6. Sfar, Joann. The Little Prince. Trans. Sarah Ardizzone. Boston: Houghton Mifflin
Harcourt, 2010. 110 p.
-- “The Little Prince Graphic Novel.” Publisher’s Weekly. 4 October 2010: 51. Online. In this
review, marketed toward professionals in the book industry or librarianship, The Little Prince’s
updated version is a welcomed addition to the “beloved staple of children’s literature.” Although it is
unclear how the critic interpreted SE’s work and where, for the reviewer, the value of the original
book resides (“part of the original book’s lasting charm is…[SE’s] own naïve but unforgettable
illustrations”), the current overhaul of the original is without a doubt packaged as a “book for young
people” (SE is “briefly chided in the book’s text for smoking”); the “childlike perspective” speaks
primarily to the oddity of maturity. The reviewer either does not speak to a deeper reading of the
graphic novel, or the omission of this reading suggests there is none, at least in terms of the
dialogue. Much of the review is spent dissecting the illustrations, praised for their “striking
simplicity.” Although this review does not contain much substance, it illustrates where this
translation of SE’s original fits into the overall literary scheme and where SE’s legacy lies in the
American publishing world.
VIII. Lettre à un otage (1943)
13 Written while SE was in exile in New York in 1942, SE’s letter was originally addressed to his dear
friend Léon Werth; later, the title and recipient of the letter changed to “hostage.” In the letter, SE
discusses the wartime climate, the German occupation in France.
1. Lettre à un otage. New York: Brentanno’s, 1943. 108 p.
-- Fouchet, Max-Pol. “Le Plus Court Chemin.” Les Lettres françaises. 13 janvier 1945: 4.
Microfilm. This publication, created during the World War II, sympathized with the Résistance,
necessitating its clandestine publication for a number of years. In it, Fouchet’s review (which
allocates ninety percent of its half page spread to SE’s book, leaving one paragraph for Les Trente
Chantefables) is a thoughtfully composed tribute to SE, who, at the time of publication, had been
missing for five months. His comments on SE’s disappearance shapes an understanding of the
national perspective of SE’s death (“non pas un homme de plume, mais un homme de vie”) and
gives SE a personality outside of his work (in particular with an anecdote involving a piano and two
oranges) as well as within his the realm of his profession: “Il excellait dans les jeux de société”
(which Stacy Schiff would also argue for: “[he] spoke too eloquently to be ignored but too softly to
suit anyone’s political agenda”). Without saying it, Fouchet refers to this book as a credo (“Et
justement le petit livre de SE est de ceux qui peuvent aider à vivre”), and would like to follow it.
Filled with admiring superlatives of SE’s work (“le plus beau texte paru depuis la liberation”),
Fouchet’s review is one of the best to provide a background on SE, explain the heart of his work
without robbing it of its mystery, and connect this work to SE’s entire philosophy.
-- Guérard, Albert. “Antoine de Saint Exupéry, Lettre à un Otage.” Books Abroad. Summer
1944. Vol. 18, No. 3: 262. Online. Infused with a sarcastic tone (“unfair to ask a gem to make
sense”; “All France is a hostage”), Guérard’s review is largely unfavorable toward the “artificially
swollen” collection. Although bitter about its misleading contents, he does find that, if taken pieceby-piece, line-by-line, the work contains “noble sentiments, beautifully expressed.” He finds the
overall work dull and tedious (“the total effect is one of lassitude”), and finds fault in SE’s logic and
the actual content of his letters. It is unclear if the global perspective he interjects is derived from
SE’s letters or just a viewpoint he feels is missing based on his own background, and again, his
points are illustrated with sarcasm (“Alas! This applies, not to forty million Frenchmen…but to
three hundre million Europeans”; “What an admirable definition of Nazi Germany!”). Despite its
bitter undertones, Guérard’s review fairly describes some of the work’s short fallings and also
manages to commend SE for his poetics.
2. Letter to a Hostage. Trans. Jacqueline Gerst. London: Heinemann, 1950. 32 p.
-- Gates, Barrington. “Pilots Three.” The Times Literary Supplement. 25 May 1951: 323.
Online.
Gates discusses three memoirs of aviation in this review, with the growing number of aviationthemed literary reviews suggesting its increasing presence in both fiction and nonfiction (perhaps
thanks to SE’s influence, and also due to the end of the war). The most “peaceful” of the three
books in discussion, Gates treats SE’s book exactly as though it were a memoir of SE’s old friend
(“of whose company he remembers that nothing happened when the sun shone on them except that
they smiled as they drank”), a vastly different viewpoint from Fouchet, who intends to follow it as
doctrine. Perhaps it is the translation that causes a dispute, but the difference in publications is more
likely responsible for these vastly different reviews: The Times, a weekly literary review based out of
London, and Fouchet’s printed in a politically-charged newspaper.
14 IX. Citadelle (1948)
The first of SE’s posthumous works (and designed to be posthumous), SE began writing Citadelle in
1936. Written in the first person and in 219 chapters, it is his collection of maxims, wisdom, and
writings that covers many of SE’s philosophical viewpoints.
1. Citadelle. Paris: Gallimard, 1948. 531 p.
-- Henriot, Emile. “La Vie Littéraire : ‘Citadelle.’” Le Monde. 26 mai 1948: 3. Microfilm.
Although he starts the review by boldly claiming he has nothing good to say, Henriot manages to
find plenty of positive things to write about the man, not the book, in this review found in Paris’s
popular daily newspaper. Throughout the entire review, he does not want to say anything negative
about SE, and so discusses other strategies fellow critics have taken to accomplish the same goal,
such as filling their review with regret (although regret for the author or the book is unclear).
Henriot takes the effective strategy of spending as little time as possible denouncing the book, which
he calls “confus and manqué” and its biblical format artificial, and spends much more time in the
half-page review stating why we—France as a whole—have loved SE’s writing (“présentaient dans
leur poésie un sens profond de la réalité ”; “un écrivain d’une espèce rare, un écrivain d’action”) and
why we love what SE stands for (“[SE] ne croit qu’a la vertu du cœur, a l’intuition, au sentiment, a la
grandeur”). Even in condemning the book, or project, as Henriot prefers to think of it, he was
rather gentle. While this may speak to his abilities or inabilities as an honest critic, it speaks more
clearly to the willingness of the academic world and general population of France to forgive SE of
this befuddled book.
-- Barjon, Louis. “Revue des livres.” Études. Juillet-septembre 1948: 277-278. Online. As
though defending (or at least making known) SE’s last wish, Barjon quotes SE’s desire to “jamais
fini” Citadelle. Whether or not Barjon feels this is justification enough for the book’s unsatisfying and
unimpressive contents (left in “l’état inchoatif’; “Citadelle ne doive ajouter beaucoup a la gloire
littéraire de [SE]”) is unclear, yet he does defend the editors, understanding that their goal was to
preserve SE as he was rather than publish a work of definitive philosophy. Yet, Barjon, who has
reviewed SE several times before, argues that this volume only betrays what SE has already
established in his writing, at times reinforces what was already known, and, ultimately, will leave
general audiences bored (“l’œuvre n’obtiendra guère, je pense, les faveurs du grand public”). Barjon
manages to create a detailed review that manages to find an ideal balance between frankness and
preserving SE’s literary authority and reputation (Terre des Hommes, Pilote de Guerre, Petit Prince…C’est,
au reste, assez pour immortaliser sa mémoire”).
-- Ross, Alan. “Personal Testament.” The Times Literary Supplement. 10 July 1948: 385.
Online. Ross reviews Citadelle as a summation of SE’s philosophy, the base from which his other
works grew. In direct contradiction to Galantière’s later review, Ross argues that SE was above all a
man of motive not action, and finds SE’s philosophical bible (“sometimes biblical and always on the
same level of high seriousness”) to be, like others have claimed SE’s works to be, a credo. The book’s
writing, which, although Ross regards highly (“the craftstmanship of phrase and refinement of
feeling that illumine the whole of it”) is identified by this review to be exactly as SE intended—
unfinished. Although one could agree with Galantière’s stance that the book’s unimpressive contents
were not how it should have been, Ross leads to a convincing hypothesis that SE never intended to
finish it (“‘I will never finish it, it is my posthumous work,’” Ross quotes SE), and, therefore, wanted
15 it to be left unedited, full, unrelated. Ross’s review is a convenient foil to Galantière’s perhaps more
subjective take on this collection of SE’s notes and maxims.
2. The Wisdom of the Sands. Trans. Stuart Gilbert. New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1950. 350 p.
-- Galantière, Lewis. “The Book Saint-Exupery Left Behind.” New York Herald Tribune
Book Review. 15 October 1950: 4. Online. Written by one of SE’s translators, Galantière’s review
has a sentimental and bitter tone, laced with regret and grief, and convinced that SE was not done
living (“he had not yet fulfilled himself…The man of action had been transforming himself into a
man of meditation,” an argument both strengthened by the increasingly philosophical themes in his
works, yet partially discredited by the humanity and philosophy seen in all of his works, including his
letters, unpublished at the time of this review). His review reads as a wistful eulogy, filled with
intimate details (“working usually from midnight till dawn, he wrote these pages as fast as his pen
would run”). However, rather than celebrating SE for what he accomplished, Galantière is
unimpressed with what was left behind (“this is not what he meant to publish”; “Here, then, is his
message in its unorganized, repetitive bulk”). While caution should be taken with this review, due to
the liberties taken in his speculation (“although…not pronounced in these pages, this seemes to
have been SE’s compelling purpose”), Galantière’s history as SE’s translator gives him authority into
the details of SE’s writing patterns and thought processes. Given the suddenness with which SE
died, regret for what could have been was common among his peers and, as seen by the attempts at
many posthumous works, his fans. The lengthy review, written six years after his death, suggests the
beginning of his lasting legacy.
X. Lettres de jeunesse 1921-1931 (1953)
This collection of posthumous letters, addressed to Renée de Saussine, a concert violinist and, in the
1920s, the object of SE’s affection, has been published under several different titles, all during the
same year: Lettres à l’amie inventee (the 1953 Jacques Haumont edition contains illustrations by the
author), Lettres de jeunesse à l’amie inventee, and Lettres de jeunesse.
1. Lettres de jeunesse. Paris: Gallimard, 1953. Pref. by Renée de Saussine. 151 p.
- Billy, André. “Solitude et Tristesse de jeune Antoine de Saint-Exupery.” Le Figaro. 22 avril
1953: 11. Microfilm. Published in a Paris daily newspaper, not its literary supplement, Billy’s review
lacks the proper amount of context for such a broad audience. Without any background on SE (or
perhaps conversely suggests the knowledge that the general population was already very familiar
with SE and his work), Billy dives into the review, which is neither positive nor negative, but
puzzled. He spends too much time quoting the letters rather than critiquing the book, but he finds
that even the 25-year-old SE shared strong opinions (of questionable accuracy) with the recipient of
these letters, Mme Renée se Saussine (“Sa première lettre formule des règles que l’aspirant écrivain
tenait pour indiscutables”). Billy poses a troubling question to fans of SE, a question that was
thought to have been resolved by the overwhelming success of several of his books (or did not need
addressing at all): “Comment la vie ultra-sensible du philosophe et de l’artiste se concilie-t-elle avec
le métier de pilote?” Billy leaves the reader to consider this question, and it is unclear if the question
will be answered in this set of published letters.
-- Tylden-Wright, David. “Fantasy and Feeling.” The Times Literary Supplement. 19 June
1953: 398. Online. Providing more than sufficient background for the context of these letters,
16 Tylden-Wright’s enchantment with SE shines through in his review (“[he] never completely shook
himself free from the shell of his adolescence…it would have been a pity if he had done so”).
Tylden-Wright expresses SE’s feeling of discontentment with really anywhere but the air (“in spite
of all his longing for Paris…he finds little but disillusionment”), and speculates on how the feelings
expressed in these letters shaped him as a writer. With strong statements about the fantasy and
youthfulness SE possessed, Tylden-Wright also remarks quite frequently about the “bitterness” and
“resentment” left in many of these letters. The review, while brief, makes a convincing argument to
read the letters alongside SE’s works, if only to discover how his life of optimism and fantasy coexisted with the bitterness he expressed.
-- Barjon, Louis. “Revue des livres.” Études. Octobre 1953-décembre 1953: 133. Online.
Although he hoped for further insight into the author’s life (“Ces lettres…n’ajoutent sans doute rien
d’essentiel à ce que nous savions de SE”), Barjon’s tone is not one of disappointment, but of
gratitude for at least reiterating that which we already knew of SE’s values and ideals (“Les thèmes
principaux qui feront le fond de ses écrits s’esquissent dans ses humbles premises de son art et de sa
pensée : grandeur du service…sens profond de la vie”). Despite his hope for something more, the
review values the clarity drawn between the child and the man apparent over the course of the nineyear correspondence, something the reviewer hoped for SE (“pour qui veut préciser la genèse de
cette physionomie en évolution constante, mais trouvée à chaque étape de la vie en si profonde
continuité avec elle-même”). With the most critical analysis of this collection, Barjon also
demonstrates a high level of esteem for the solitary nature of the author and for delving into the
origin of some of his major tenets.
XI. Carnets (1953)
As the introduction to Carnets explains, SE always had a notebook with him, filled with reminders,
notes, thoughts, ideas, and plans, not meant for publication. This volume publishes the contents his
notebooks from the late 1930s to early 1940s. In the French edition, a plate featuring a photograph
of a page from the notebooks is included.
1. Carnets. Paris: Gallimard, 1953. 222 p.
-- Quesnel, Michel. “Les ‘carnets’ de Saint-Exupery.” Revue d’histoire littéraire de la France.
Septembre 1977: 829-835. Quensel’s six-page review is overflowing with the joy and excitement
that Carnets is finally what readers had been hoping for—this “precieux document” is revealing,
insightful, and new, and was issued at “la préoccupation du public,” a comment on the context and
public demand for this work. However, above all, Quesnel is impressively protective of SE’s
memory, and is satisfied that Carnets is worthy of that memory and of SE’s importance (he is,
Quesnel says, “un témoin majeur de son temps”). The review, while spending much time in
laborious detail of the philosophy of SE’s work, ideals, and what is revealed in Carnets, is a worthy
read alongside to the book. However, the reviewer, not necessarily modest but in awe of what
Carnets provides, claims, “Rien ne saurait mieux illustrer cette conviction que les notes de Carnets
eux-mêmes. ” In light of this near perfect review, it is interesting to note that, in spite of the longawaited arrival of a work like this, no English translation was produced. But, if general French
readers have the patience to get through Quesnel’s review, they will undoubtedly be convinced to
then devour the book.
17 XII. Lettres à sa mere (1954)
SE kept in close epistolary contact with his mother, Marie de Saint-Exupéry, who became a widow
at the age of twenty-eight, when SE was four years old. The letters span the timeframe of
approximately 1910 to 1940, and in 1959, SE’s mother gave the letters to the Archives de France.
1. Lettres à sa mere. Paris: Gallimard, 1954. 230 p.
-- Tylden-Wright, David. “Saint-Exupéry to His Mother.” The Times Literary Supplement.
20 May 1955: 267. Online. Because SE gave so much of himself in his books, Tylden-Wright finds
little more to be found in these letters, except to confirm the “charm of his character” that already
shone through in his novels. The anomaly that was SE (“the man of action and the philosopher
seldom go hand and hand”) is present in this collection, as is his connection to his family (as some
letters were addressed to family members besides his mother), a theme less prevalent in his other
works. Tylden-Wright is most charmed by SE’s recollections and saddened by a world without SE
(“we can judge how grievous a loss French literature suffered”), and his review expresses his
amusement with the collection.
-- Anex, George. “Saint-Exupéry : Lettres à sa Mere (Gallimard).” La Nouvelle Revue
Française. Juin 1955: 1095. Print. Readers of La Nouvelle Revue Française would have already been
familiar with SE’s work, as the monthly review often published segments of his works, such as
Carnets in 1953. While Anex may have been speaking directly to readers of the Revue when he
claimed, “Nous connaissons SE,” he was more likely generalizing based on SE’s national popularity.
After writing Le Petit Prince, SE had become not only an expert of aviation to the public, but also a
symbol of childlike imagination. However, Anex finds that resting in the quiet moments of SE’s
letters to his mother, beneath the voice of “nostalgie heureuse” that appears in his letters, life, and
oeuvre, is not a man forever destined to be a child, but a man who is inherently and fundamentally
human. “Il ne songe pas à se refugier sous son aile, il voudrait plutôt étendre sa protection au monde
intérieur.” A thoughtful piece that seeks to give depth to SE and speak to his value and humanity,
Anex’s review gives more insight and praise to the man rather than the book.
XIII. Un sens à la vie (1956) – A Sense of Life
Another posthumous collection of SE’s writings, this volume features SE’s editorials on war in
Spain as well as the political situations in Russia and Munich; a letter addressed to his home country;
and essays on his philosophy, exploring the concept of “l’essential.” The collection was compiled
and edited by Claude Reynal.
1. Un sens à la vie. Paris: Gallimard, 1956. 262 p.
-- Tylden-Wright, David. “The Shape of Things.” The Times Literary Supplement. 21
September 1956: 554. Online. Tylden-Wright’s interesting review reflects the fascinating subject
matter of the book being discussed. Tylden-Wright finds that the book reveals a uniquely unsatisfied
side to SE as well as illustrates the dangers of a solitary life (“neither his personal life nor that of the
outside world conformed as he would have wished to the shape of things that he had in his mind”).
Although it is a fragmentary collection, its nature is justified. The review makes subtle comments
18 toward public perception of SE, which secures him, above all else, as a pilot and philosopher.
Reminding readers of his various other roles, Tylden-Wright uses the power of retrospect to claim
that it was impossible for SE to escape those roles, which carried through his mind, personal life,
vocation, and being. An engaging review that, while not overly adoring in its language, evenly praises
SE’s early works (“brilliant description of a flight…”) and the collection, claiming it is even more
valuable for fans and those unfamiliar with SE than the other posthumously published volumes of
correspondence, including, “surprisingly,” Carnets.
-- Rousseaux, André. “Inédits de Saint-Exupery.” Le Figaro Littéraire. 21 avril 1956: 4.
Microfilm. As he defends SE against the intellectuals who “faire la petit bouche sur” SE or laugh at
Le Petit Prince, Rousseaux finds that to be made fun of by an intellectual community is actually an
honor (“une confirmation de sa valeur”). Rousseaux’s review, like his others, is highly intellectual,
but this particular essay pays close attention to SE’s legacy (“Et cet homme, entre des millions, a
pour lui une valeur irremplaçable, qui est, prenons y garde, sa valeur authentique”). He is, according
to Rousseaux, the novelist of the modern hero, deriving truths of humanity in an unusual manner
and from an uncommon source. Even with so many posthumous collections coming out, Rousseaux
believes that this one will be worthy of readers’ time, and they will make time for it (“Pour avertir le
lecteur qu’il y a peu de chances qu’une nouvelle publication de [SE] soit sans intérêt”). He
summarizes some of the contents and speculates on their original intention (possibly meant for a
wide audience of readers), gives a history of SE’s relationship with Jean Prévost, and discusses SE’s
ability to reveal the “secret poétique” of concrete ideas. Rousseaux always speaks about SE as a
colleague, deeply familiar with his body of work, his patterns of language (sometimes tedious, he
found), and thought. His knowledge is extremely evident in his review, which makes it more useful
as an authoritative essay.
XIV. Écrits de guerre 1939-1944 (1982)
Divided into three segments in the French edition (La France, 1939-1940; Les États-Unis, 1941-avril
1943; L’Afrique du Nord, mai 1943-juillet 1944) and by year in the American translation, this
collection covers SE’s years in the army, in exile in New York, and after he rejoined the army in
Algeria to fly with the Forces Aériennes Françaises Libres. Among its contents are letters to the
French, “General X,” Joseph Kessel, lieutenants, Jules Roy, and young Americans.
1. Écrits de guerre: 1939-1944: avec La letter à un otage et des temoignages et documents.
Paris: Gallimard, 1982. 649 p.
-- Johnson, Douglas. “Divisions among the disoriented.” The Times Literary Supplement. 1
April 1983: 316. Online. In a review free of nostalgia, Johnson appears to be most impressed by the
collection’s opportunity to set the record straight on SE’s anti-Gaullist political stance and wartime
opinions and actions (“SE’s behaviour during the war has been the subject of innuendo”). Decades
after SE’s initial popularity in Europe and America, Johnson observes a decline in SE’s literary
prowess and popularity (“not always appreciated by the literary pundits in France”; “it seems likely
that much of French youth has grown out of him by the age of eighteen”). However without any
supporting evidence (aside from the impressive sales numbers of Le Petit Prince and Vol de Nuit,
which he did note), Johnson’s comments read as a notable perception. He does maintain authority in
discussing SE’s mysterious politics and friendship with Gide (“he was also embarrassed by his
conviction that Citadelle was a failure”), and provides interesting detail into why and how this volume
19 changes his perception of SE’s political agenda—or, rather, lack thereof (“apoloticial”; “strikingly
imprecise”). With some of the review dedicated to comparing SE to Drieu la Rochelle,
acquaintances in the 1930s, Johnson’s lengthy review reads as an interesting and debatably justified
criticism of SE (“egoism might have a lot to answer for”) as opposed to the book.
2. Wartime Writings 1939-1944. Trans. Norah Purcell. With an introduction by Anne
Morrow Linbergh. San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1986. 237 p.
-- Rose, Marilyn Gaddis. “Saint-Exupery, Antoine de. War Time Writings, 1939-1944.”
Library Journal. 1 June 1986: 120. Online. Unconvinced that this is a relevant publication (“[SE]
has not interested many scholars since the late Fifties, he presumably still has a following”), Rose’s
review comes across as unsure to whom this volume should be marketed (“may appeal to adults
who loved The Little Prince). Without much detail of the author’s life or previous work, Rose does
note that several of these letters are written to Lewis Galantière, translator and critic. In a short,
lackluster review, Rose does not find this translation satisfactory (“this volume…needed another
thorough editing to remove the Gallicisms”).
-- Mitchell, Kendall. “Wind, sand and Saint-Exupery—Some revealing ephemera from the
author-aviator’s last years.” The Chicago Sun-Times. 20 July 1986. Online. Unlike Rose in
Library Journal, Mitchell notes why this volume is of interest to the general American public (“no
French writer has had greater popular appeal in this country”) and provides a brief overview of his
work and life (including “what always adds to the legend: He vanished without a trace”). Mitchell’s
review thoroughly analyzes the collection, accounting for its few shining moments—the
representation of SE’s moral themes, details into his writing process, and the mere fact that it lets
readers “hear a voice from that terrible time that speaks still to our most basic concerns”—but
spending much discussion on its many weaknesses: lack of organization, lack of answered questions,
lack of thoroughness. Although her critical review is well supported (and at times rather demanding),
it is a dry read that serves primarily to remind readers of SE’s importance and moral substance.
-- Balakian, Nona. “The Fall of Icarus.” New York Times. 31 August 1986: BR9-10. Online.
In decades before, most reviewers spoke only of SE’s supreme optimism, his ability to look beyond
the modern age or defeat into the heart of man. However, in Balakian’s review, she focuses on SE’s
inherent bitterness, apparent, she argues, in light of this most recent collection of his previously
unpublished writing. While acknowledging SE’s place in history (“certain rare individuals…their
ceaseless astonishment before its possibilities awakening our own latent sense of renewal and
expectation. No one ever stood out more conspicuously in this respect”; he “became a legend even
before he disappeared”), the review reads like a shattered illusion, at once disheartening and
illuminating, encouraging readers to gain a complete understanding of the man. Balakian speaks to
his political life as a “spokesman for France”; SE indeed wrote several essays on France’s behalf that
would appear in American newspapers, most notably, “An Open Letter to Frenchmen Everywhere,”
published in The New York Times Magazine. The reviewer describes the collection’s bleak insight into
SE’s career and life (“the day-by-day experiences that all but defeated him in his final years”), and is
very critical of the “heavily cut American edition” that “fails to capture the distinctive cadence of
SE’s prose.” Balakian has not lost respect for SE, but her image of him changed, and her review
attempts to persuade readers to alter their image of him in order to gain a better understanding of
the man and his work.
20 XV. Manon, danseuse (2007)
Although some of the contents of this volume had been available by this point in biographies or
later editions of his works, some these texts were for the first time in its entirety here. Jean Prévost,
who published L’Aviateur, planned to publish this in the mid-1920s. It is unknown why those plans
failed, with speculation leading to us to believe that it has to do with SE’s book deal with Gallimard
to print Courrier Sud instead.
1. Manon, danseuse et autres texts inedits, coffret en 4 volumes. Paris: Gallimard, 2007. 80 p.
-- Schwartz, Arnaud. “Saint-Exupéry, les pages retrouvées du pilote perdu.” La Croix. 26
Décembre 2007. Online. Schwartz’s article in the widely circulated, general interest French RomanCatholic newspaper details the origins of Gallimard’s collection of unprinted works and summarizes
its contents, providing more reporting than critique (although he does describe the writing of Manon,
Danseuse as “écriture seche”). With the byline, “le premier texte que l’auteur destina à la publication,”
La Croix suggests that it is newsworthy to note this most recent delving into the author’s past.
Eighty years after SE originally wrote Manon, Danseuse, it was published; and, eighty years after SE’s
writing career began, Schwartz suggests, there is still more information to be discovered about the
author-aviator (“À ceux qui pensaient tout connaître de SE…une jolie surprise”). The article
recommends that those who are passionate about SE should look to these volumes, originally
written in the 1920s and ’30s, for letters, unpublished segments of previously published books, and
an interesting view of SE’s personal life, namely with women (although not Consuelo). Talking
about SE though he was an old friend (“l'écrivain et le pilote, le rêveur et le philosophe, le séducteur
et l'ami fidèle”), Schwartz’s tone is that of an engaged reporter, creating a news clip that is not only a
report for the literary world, but a headline for a nation who holds SE to a legendary status.
XVI. Lettres à l’inconnue (2008)
In Gallimard’s brief collection, the letters from SE are facsimiles, reproducing SE’s original
transcription and writing style. SE wrote these letters to a married woman who worked for the Red
Cross after he had rejoined the military in Algeria, not using her name in order to protect her
identity. The volume also contains illustrations of a young boy reminiscent of the Petit Prince.
1. Lettres à l’inconnue. Paris: Gallimard, 2008. 29 p.
-- Cerisier, Alban and Jacques Desse. De la jeuneesse chez Gallimard : 90 ans des livres pour
les enfants. Paris : Gallimard, 2008. Not available for examination.
21