The Perfect Nanny

This cluster of chapters shows Louise further immersing herself into the Massé household, while laying bare some of the class issues that become apparent through this closeness. The dinner party is one example. Paul’s insistence that Louise join them shows him wielding his authority over her in an uncomfortable way. This tension is exacerbated at the dinner party, when Paul starts referring to Louise as “our nanny” as if she were an object or not a fully adult woman.

Paul’s treatment of Louise–as if she isn’t fully human–is again highlighted when he teaches her to swim. It’s only through this intimate physical experience that Paul becomes aware of Louise’s physicality, of her presence as a person: “Louise has a body that trembles under Paul’s palms and fingers. A body he had not seen or even suspected before” (71). To Paul, Louise is only “the help,” relegated to the typically female domain of childcare, and, as such, is essentially invisible.

Throughout the book, both Paul and Myriam fail to acknowledge or recognize Myriam as a fully-fledged person, one who has her own life to lead. When they invite her on the Greek holiday, Paul says, “Louise will be so happy. I mean, what else could she do that’s be better than that?” (62). This calls to mind the Rudyard Kipling quote from Plain Tales from the Hills that prefaces the book:

Miss Vezzis came from across the Borderline to look after some children who belonged to a lady until a regularly ordained nurse could come out. The lady said Miss Vezzis was a bad, dirty nurse, and inattentive. It never struck her that Miss Vezzis had her own life to lead and her own affairs to worry over, and these affairs were the most important things in the world to Miss Vezzis. (0

Paul and Myriam repeatedly display this kind of willful ignorance throughout the book. They confront Louise’s humanity only when they’re forced to do so. Paul and Myriam do not want Louise to have any kind of life that could interfere with her devotion to their children or their household. When her private life does creep into their home, they are irritated at the imposition and embarrassed by the reminders of Louise’s lower-class problems.

For instance, Paul gets annoyed when they discover Louise can’t swim—an attitude that shows his self-centered mindset, and a classist assumption to begin with. Rather than having compassion for Louise, he is irritated that her own disadvantages are now impacting his holiday, and “[h]e blames Louise for having brought her poverty, her frailties all the way here. For having poisoned their day with her martyr’s face” (69). This moment also points to his view of caregiving; he assumes the responsibility of spending time with the children only after learning that Louise cannot.

Paul’s annoyance highlights his discomfort with the class differences between the Massés and Louise. It’s more convenient for Myriam and Paul to ignore this difference than to acknowledge it and feel guilty. At the same time, they exploit their relationship with Louise. They are happy to have her come earlier and stay later, and even to have her sleep over at their apartment. They are obviously aware that they are pushing the boundaries of the typical nanny-family relationship: “Paul worries about the nanny’s long hours. ‘I don’t want her to accuse us of exploiting her one day.’” (54). There is no empathy for Louise but only concern for the consequences they might face if Louise were to accuse them (rightfully so) of breaking labor laws.

Myriam is also keenly aware of the class inequality between the Massés and Louise. She is more concerned than Paul with minimizing any tension resulting from the uneven socioeconomic status, lest they lose Louise (and Myriam’s freedom to work in the process). When she goes shopping, she hides the new clothes until Louise has left for the day. While Myriam’s intentions may seem good, they are again self-serving: She does not actually take action to change the working relationship with Louise, like insisting that she not work such long hours. Instead, she fully takes advantage of Louise’s availability, with no regard for Louise’s personal life or health.

At the same time, Myriam continues to grapple with Louise’s ability to fulfill the role of household manager and child caretaker better than Myriam can. Louise is a skilled storyteller, while “Myriam isn’t good at telling stories” (63). While Myriam appreciates that Louise can amuse the children, it also isn’t easy for her to see Louise excel in areas where Myriam feels less successful.

The theme of classism is further elucidated through the introduction of Stéphanie, Louise’s (now adult) daughter. Stéphanie was the ultimate example of class disparity when she joined Louise at the Rouviers’ holiday home. While the other children could swim in the pool and play, Stéphanie was, as the child of “the help,” not permitted to participate. The Rouviers even got irritated if Stéphanie watched TV with the other children. In response, they quickly reestablished the class hierarchy and their authority by treating Stéphanie as if she were hired help as well. The Rouviers never allowed Stéphanie to forget her place within the household, even though she was only a child.

Like the Massés (or like “The lady” referenced in the Kipling quote), the Rouviers are clearly aware of the class disparity between themselves and Louise—but they do not want it thrown in their face. It makes them uncomfortable, to the point that they decide not to allow Stéphanie to join Louise on future holidays. They frame this decision as if it were in the girl’s best interests: “It must be tough, seeing all the things she’s not allowed to do” (50). In fact, it’s all about them being able to maintain their comfort.

While further exploring the themes of motherhood and classicism, these chapters continue to elevate the narrative tension. The reader watches as “Louise patiently builds her nest in the middle of the apartment” (54), knowing that this steady infiltration has a devastating ending. The scene where Myriam exits the shower, naked, to find Louise in her bedroom is reminiscent of many horror movies, like Alfred Hitchcock’s movie Psycho, which contains a famous scene in which Marion Crane is brutally attacked in the shower. The situation in the book is presented innocuously, without much drama, but because of the Introduction, the way Louise crosses inappropriate boundaries and “does not even blink” reads as ominous (53).

A similarly unsettling moment takes place in Greece, after Paul, Myriam, and Louise’s drunken dinner. It’s a lighthearted scene at first, with everyone laughing. However, it ends with Louise listening to Paul and Myriam having sex in the next room—an eerie violation of privacy that shows how invested she’s becoming in their household. This moment will gain new significance toward the book’s end, when Louise becomes obsessed with the idea of Myriam having another baby. Louise’s logic: If Myriam has another baby, the Massés will still need her.