A story told in the perspective of the writer himself, Philippe Besson, reminiscing his adolescence and one particular tale of first, hidden love between two teenage boys who have no chance of a shared future.
“Love, it’s taking each other in the mouth, maintaining a certain comportment despite the frenzy. It’s exercising restraint not to come, the excitement is so powerful. It’s abandonment, that crazy trust in the other.”
This delicate and melancholic narrative showcases the tragedy of silence, the consequences of lying, and of not being truthful to your own self. Elegantly translated in English by Molly Ringwald, it successfully tells the story of how time ultimately wins in the end.
“it’s the likelihood that actually matters more than the truth, that the feeling counts more than accuracy, and above all that a place is not a question of topography but rather the way that we describe it—not a photograph but an impression.”
I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS more for its prose and language than the story itself as, I’m sure, this story is familiar to us by now. I say the strength of this short book lies with its narration, its short declarative proses, and even its familiarity. I wish I had this book when I was 15.
🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
thebookrebellion 