Laurent Binet's approach is particularly original in the context of a historical narrative. Not only the event selected is little known by neophytes like me and evoked little Czech resistance, me it seems, in the heap of French novels about World War 2. But in addition it is interesting to see the approach of the historian that he is, his motives, his sources. But it does not take that personal comments take precedence over the story. It's a bit what happens here as its procrastination on details slow action. And to the reader that I am, I do not care what his wife or his brother or Marjane Satrapi (sic) think of this or that of its formulations. Certainly it indirectly invites us to beware of historical works where the facts are delivered "just cooked" by the author whose imagination fills in the blanks left by history. Intellectual honesty of Laurent Binet is commendable, but it is sometimes too, half of his novel being delivered to digress more or less interesting! I admit I was sometimes very annoyed by this mix but the last hundred pages are quite breathtaking and if only that for them, the novel worth reading.
