It had the flavor, color, fragrance of happiness. But it was nen quun pale substitute. A family, a job, children, really just snapshots captured in the photographic lens of a lasso. Clichés of what should be the dune happy life ingredients. For if a photography, the image of the sun, shows all, she does not let watch.
At dawn the death of his father, Antoine, insurance adjuster quadra, yet refuses this feigned blindness. It rewinds the film of his life and his strength is clear that happiness which was not staked quune fleeting illusion. Parents unable to show their love, a parental couple crushed by the loss of a his children, how he, Antoine, will he build on the solid foundations also brittle? How can he succeed his family life, his love life, his life itself, when around him, it was only heartbreak, misunderstanding, collapse? How and when this Saimer those who designed you, worn, do not return an amiable image (within the meaning worthy of love) from you? Can only give what one has not got?
Borers questions.
He who spends his time coldly manage folders' compensation, which calculated without state lady that his company will reimburse minima to victims, tries to quantify the worth of his life. Broad question. The value it is the price to pay for something (provided that it sachète, which is not the case of love) or cost in terms of effort, patience, to reach what one wants?
In this novel, Grégoire Delacourt we painted the portrait of a man in the form of a triptych upsetting: childhood without love his mother nor the courage of his father, emotional disability that will condition his adult life and lead him to commit lirréparable; the attempted reconstruction of the drama away, Mexico; and finally, yet lirréparable partially repaired through forgiveness. A novel that takes the throat, shakes, battering. A story that, as singular as it is, Recelle in it a universality that will touch every reader: can we make her successful denfance scars scars? Is there a possibility to end the repetition of parental patterns? Can we learn to Saimer and thus then to love, when we grew up without love?
Nineteen euros. This is not that worth the Dantoine life. This is the minimum price to be paid for a maximum of emotions. A small price for a great reading pleasure.
Blow of heart of the literary season!
P.134: Running away never saves anything.
P.218: Understand, this is to make a giant step towards the other. This is the beginning of forgiveness.
Karine Fléjo for the blog Chronicles Koryfée
