Connemara

The title of the novel smells of peat and wet grass, resonating in elite business schools, at rural weddings, in youth nightclubs, and at quiet family gatherings. This is because in France, the song by Michel Sardou about the lakes of Connemara is known by, if not everyone, then very many.

And the heroes of the novel are no exception.

Elena is nearing forty. Born in a small town in eastern France, she worked hard to leave the province and build a life worthy of the glossy magazines she read as a teenager. However, now that she seems to have everything—a husband, two daughters, a successful career, and a huge house—she feels unsatisfied, as if the years of her life have been wasted.

Christophe recently turned forty, and he has never left the small town where he grew up. He is no longer as handsome as before, divorced, lives in his parents' house, entertains himself by pulling ridiculous stunts with friends, sells dog food, and cherishes the dream of playing hockey just like he did at sixteen when he was the star of his school. It seems like a complete failure, but Christophe is sure that everything is still ahead.

Their romance is a ruthlessly relevant, candid, melancholic, hopeful, and furious story about love. But Mathieu writes not only about that: on the pages of the book, an entire generation of French people finds its voice. Their cries, laughter, weeping, whispers, and moans resonate as one song.