Those Without Shadows by Françoise Sagan (tr. Irene Ash)

a nutshell: a sardonic magnifying glass on a circle of Parisians bemoaning their ill-fated romances and lack of purpose in life

a line: “Everyone is familiar with these infinitely small circumferences which love creates in the heart of a great city”

an image: Bernard’s failure to light a damp cigarette symbolises the lives of those who never know real happiness but feel it’s of no importance

a thought: I got through this slim book quickly and came away feeling downbeat and listless … a sign of success on Sagan’s part in conjuring so effectively a sense of emptiness?

a fact: I bought this vintage 1964 Penguin Books edition in The Second Shelf and had lovely conversations while there – which included learning that Sagan was just 18 when she wrote Bonjour Tristesse (a sensational novel about a hedonistic teenager’s careless antics)

 

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