A body immersed in an unfamiliar environment knows strange and unpredictable. This is not a variant of the Archimedes theory but a principle widely used in literature and gives excellent results as long as the author is at the height .... And Serge Joncour is, for its style, sly and precise, and novelist by his experience that is not confined to the salons of Paris. The national writer takes place in France called deep in the forests of the Morvan, full character of the book. This has several reasons, as is said of a tapestry: an unusual police investigation, an impossible love story, an evocation of the croquignolette provincial life (chabrolienne), a reflection on copyright trade. Everything blends with grace and irony over a story that goes lightness to some concern. The narrator, who is a bit much Joncour, is a candid strayed into a news item that exceeds and has the naivete of wanting to deepen. Why? He himself can not say though the eyes of a certain young woman are not strangers. We must not say more and leave the reader the pleasure of discovering this wild ride sometimes funny and often between petits fours reception at the town hall, a reading workshop for local media, hallucinating walks in the woods, conversations with indigenous secrets and rough, and invigorating meal at the Inn of the corner followed by a treacherous brandy. The national writer is the nanan.
