In an intimate tale, Nemo tells his story to Barbara, a great friend who died in a road accident from whom she adopted the three children. In these pages adorned with cut-outs from Harlequin novels, the lovesick young thirty-year-old evokes, among other things, her initially virtual and poetic relationship with a certain Brossard – a nickname invented to prevent her “lubricating herself like a slug every time that[elle] written[t] three lines on him” – then the slippages that follow this extramarital gap. With love novelAmélie Dumoulin — well known on the youth side, especially for Fe M Fe — signs its first title for adults, in which teenagers could certainly find their account. Written in an abrupt, hard-hitting style, this story shines with the spontaneity of the confidences revealed, with the desperate humor that emanates from them, with a raw language, which ignores taboos and other rectitudes to better dive into the hollow of the entrails, seize the pain where it is and bring out the light. A tender and sulphurous anti-love novel, which can be read in one go.
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