Who hasn't felt a sudden, mysterious urge to do something that, on later reflection, seems utterly illogical or pointless? Like an unplanned trip to a place you've never heard of, or an impuslive purchase of something totally useless – actions that make us wonder, 'what on earth compelled me to do that?'. Georges Simenon's compelling work, Monsieur Monde Vanishes, invites us to think about the enigmatic impulses and yearnings that lie dormant within us, only to awaken and propel us toward actions that astonishes our conscious minds, as if there's an unseen force pulling our strings.

The narrative begins with the account of Monsieur Monde, a man who, upon reaching the age of forty-eight, is abruptly roused from his sleep and, without any discernible cause, forsakes his devoted wife and children, his thriving business, and the trappings of his bourgeois existence. He withdraws a considerable sum of money from his bank account and heads to the south of France where he's met with a series of random encounters.

The central theme here is the tension between what we might call the cognitive (the conscious thought processes) and non-cognitive (the unconscious impulses or drives) aspects of the mind. It is within this tension that our protagonist dwells, constantly grappling with the non-cognitive forces that drive his actions. In our everyday understanding of human behaviour, we usually assume that all actions are driven by "reasons" that can be explained by us. When the reasons elude our explanations, we label them "irrational," as when someone suddenly develops a phobia from balloons or laughs during a solemn funeral. Monsieur Monde's character shatters this assumption.

In folk psychology, there are three underlying propositions (which may not always be held concurrently and may indeed be contradictory) that inform our assumptions about human action:

1. All actions must have a reason, that is, they must ultimately be explainable.

2. All reasons for action must appear cognitively to the actors' mind.

3. All actions are volitional.

It is disturbing to think that human actions can be cause-less and devoid of any explanations whatever. We tend to think that they must be traced back, if not to minor external forces, then at any rate at least to some elementary source within oneself, that actions cannot themselves be self-explanatory, self-caused, without a need to further enquire into their origins. A person must have a reason to act thus rather than thus, there cannot be no reason whatever why that particular action should have been taken rather than another one.

Thus, if human actions are always explainable, what is the explanans? Here, folk psychology tells us that the action is predetermined by one's cognitive self. A century ago, Professor Freud and his psychoanalytic colleagues posited that, some of our actions are siginificantly driven by an unconscious element within us. For instance, an individual may decide to take a leisurely walk, but the actual route they take may be influenced by a multitude of seemingly insignificant forces that go unnoticed and reside within their non-cognitive faculties. However, if questioned about their choice of route, ‘why did you walk on street such and such rather than street such and such’ the individual may reply ‘because I decided to do so’ or otherwise invent a reason, that is, she will, despite herself, revert back to folk psychology and attribute the cause to her cognitive faculty. Similarly, I could ask the reader to choose a number and then inquire why you selected that specific number over another. You might reply, "because I chose it." But did you truly make a conscious choice, or was the number presented to you impulsively, without any apparent deliberation?

Lastly, let us consider the notion that actions are explicable in terms of human free will. If an action cannot be accounted for by external constraints, it is assumed to originate from an elementary source within one's own cognition, which is inextricably linked to one's mental states, desires, preferences, goals, and the like. And so, it is believed that such actions are determined by the free and unconstrained choices of the individual, even if the volitional element may not be immediately apparent and is, perhaps, introduced as an afterthought.

Let us now take these assumptions for granted in our analysis of our protagonist and see where they might come into conflict: why did Monsieur Monde vanish?

If we accept that there is a compelling motive for remaining with one's loving family and enjoying a comfortable bourgeois life, which any seemingly rational person would not willingly abandon, we must then infer that there exists a reason for Monsieur Monde's flight. Since this reason is neither outwardly expressed by Monsieur Monde nor known to him, we are led to challenge the assumption that all human actions are conscious and cognitive. Instead, we consider the possibility of an unconscious desire prompting such an escape. This conclusion arises because the idea of individuals acting in conflict with their desires, wills, and preferences, or without any reasons at all, does not sit well with us. If you have a higher order preference for vanilla ice cream over chocolate, which you genuinely dislike, you would not expect to find yourself unconsciously choosing chocolate. If you do, there must be some elementary reason for this choice; otherwise the concept of human free will, with desires supervening on actions, becomes farcical.

Hence, readers are left pondering the non-cognitive forces, the concealed reasons and desires that drive this seemingly content and prosperous man to forsake everything familiar and cherished, and immerse himself in a realm of unpredictability and potential danger. This is especially puzzling considering the lack of any overt indicators of dissatisfaction that might offer insight into the motivations underlying Monsieur Monde's actions. It is precisely this absence of explanation, however, that amplifies the fascination surrounding this enigmatic figure. Simenon writes:

. . . he was seized by a sense of detachment from everything: his daughter had coughed and he had not turned around, the baby might have been vomiting in his cradle; [he] felt himself as it were impelled forward, he had an irresistible longing to go off too, to go straight ahead. To go somewhere!

[…] Why did he go unhesitatingly to wait for a bus, at the corner of Boulevard Saint-Michel, that would take him to the Gare de Lyon? He had not thought about it beforehand; he had not said to himself that he would do this or that. Once again, he was following a preordained plan, for which he was not responsible. Nor had he made any decision the day before. It all came from much further back, from the beginning of things.

As we delve further into the narrative, we are gently led to consider the possibility that Monsieur Monde may have been driven by an overpowering, non-cognitive urge to break free from the constraints of his orderly bourgeois life and explore the concealed depths of his own psyche. In moments of despair, it is a common inclination to retreat from reality and revert to more primitive modes of thought, indulging our most profound desires by substituting fantasy for reality. As Monsieur Monde's subconscious mind assumes control over his behaviour, his flight becomes both a voluntary and seemingly involuntary act, with the potent undertow of repressed emotions ultimately holding sway.

This is exemplified when, as Monsieur Monde sheds the vestiges of his former identity and ventures forth on the train to South of France, he experiences a moment of profound emotional release. The tears that stream down his face serve as a cathartic expression of the fatigue, frustration, and longing that have accumulated within his soul over the course of forty-eight years:

They were no ordinary tears. They gushed in a warm, endless flow from some deep spring, they gathered behind the barrier of his lashes and then poured freely down his cheeks, not in separate drops but in zigzagging rivulets like those that run down windowpanes on rainy days, and the patch of wetness beside his chin spread ever wider on his pillow . . . and if they were gentle tears, it was because the ordeal was over. He had given up. He had stopped struggling. He had hurried from far away – the train journey no longer existed, there was only a sense of endless flight – he had hurried here, towards the sea which, vast and blue, more intensely alive than any human being, the soul of the world, was breathing peacefully close to him.

The description of the sea as "the soul of the world" breathing peacefully beside him serves as a poignant metaphor for Monsieur Monde’s newfound sense of freedom and release from the burdens and constraints of his former orderly life. Continuing with our story, Monsieur Monde is now known as Désiré Chouet—a nom de guerre he impulsively borrows from a cobbler's signboard when he forges an unlikely alliance with a young woman named Julie. Together, they navigate the margins of society, seeking employment in the murky underbelly of the casino and nightclub scene in Nice. There, he finally finds himself plunged into a world far removed from the comforts and certainties of his former bourgeois existence.

As Désiré adapts to his new life, he discovers that the freedom he sought remains elusive, and the world he now inhabits bears a striking resemblance to the one he left behind, albeit with greater hardship and adversity. The theft of his money, a symbol of his former life and the catalyst for his flight from the confines of his bourgeois existence, fails to evoke anger or resentment in him. Instead, he greets the hostile gaze of the thieving maid at the hotel where he now lives with exaggerated courtesy, a symbolic representation of his escape from the confines of the bourgeois world and a gesture which speaks to his newfound detachment from the material possessions and societal expectations that once defined his existence. The theft of his money does not hold any significant power over him, as he has already relinquished his former life and embraced a simpler existence.

The reader very subtly learns that despite outward appearances of contentment, indifference and serenity, Monsieur Monde is haunted by the shadows of his past and the weight of his unfulfilled desires and dreams. As the narrative unfolds, the reader is privy to the dark corners of Monsieur Monde's past, including the tumultuous relationship with his estranged first wife, whom fate decrees he shall encounter once more during his journey, and yet, despite these revelations, Monsieur Monde—or Désiré—remains an enigma, a man driven by forces that even he cannot fully comprehend or explain.

Under the moonlit sky, within the confines of the nightclub, Désiré's journey takes a dramatic turn as he encounters his first wife, now a morphine addict. This fateful meeting propels him to return to Paris, where he seeks treatment for her and reunites with his family, all without offering any explanation for his mysterious absence. Yet, the man who returns to them is not the same Monsieur Monde they once knew; he has been irrevocably changed:

He was certainly not a disembodied spirit. He was still Monsieur Monde, or Désiré, more likely Désiré.… No! It didn’t matter.… He was a man who, for a long time, had endured the human condition without being conscious of it, as others endure an illness of which they are unaware. He had always been a man living among other men and like them he had struggled, jostling amid the crowd, now feebly and now resolutely, without knowing whither he was going. And now, in the moonlight, he suddenly saw life differently, as though with the aid of some miraculous X-ray.

No longer Monsieur Monde nor Désiré Chouet, he exists in a liminal state and is able to transcend the constraints of his former identities and social roles. Through the metaphor of a “miraculous X-ray”, Simenon conveys the sense of clarity and illumination that has permeated our protagonists’ consciousness and enabled him to perceive life beyond its outward trappings and superficialities.

As he lies on his hard, sweat-scented bed, Monsieur Monde finds himself tantalisingly close to the feeling he had ultimately sought, on the verge of a discovery that remains elusive and inexpressible. He is haunted by a negative epiphany, a fleeting glimpse of the void that lies beneath the veneer of everyday existence. This revelation, though intangible and incommunicable, nevertheless leaves an indelible mark on him and forever alters his perception of himself and the world around him. There is no indication that Monsieur Monde seeks any form of redemption, but rather, his pursuit is one of freedom—the kind that arises when one breaks free from the shackles of memory and habit. It is in these moments of peril, when the self— constructed from memories and habits—falters, that one may, albeit briefly, become something entirely new and unrecognisable.

In Monsieur Monde Vanishes, the reader is not privy to the inner workings of the protagonists’ mind. Simenon eschews extensive psychological analysis of his characters, as I've taken the liberty to do here, and instead focuses on the impressions that drive their actions as Monsieur Monde abandons his bourgeois lifestyle for the uncertain allure of the demi-monde, without any clear motive or understanding of his own reasons. Simenon's characters, in this novel and beyond, appear to be defined by the environments they inhabit, as if they are chameleons adapting to their surroundings. They do not have an orthodox inner life; they sublimate their pains, become passive and act out without ever understanding nor explaining themselves. Monsieur Monde's silent revolt against bourgeois conformity is a spontaneous act, a response to the sensory stimuli he encounters upon leaving his old life behind. His pains and desires are unnoticed by everyone around him and remains unarticulated by him, and his subjectivity exists in fragmentary pieces, diffused across the particular environments he finds himself plunged in. No moral lessons can be drawn here. Simenon merely suggests that the impressions we accumulate in our lives are more real than the selves we believe to be in control.

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