"For days, I declined the face and name:" Paule, Paule my, my little Paule's waterfront, the center of the stolen land in stormy nights of Ghent and Lille ", j 'have stirred his hair and neck, shoulders and thighs, laughter in his eyes, and I was trying to unite, Paule in my driveway, not in word ... Dead, dead, dead ... "Faced with the loss of Paula, the narrator flees the scene where they lived and eventually settled in the village of Feil, on the Meuse. In these landscapes and nostalgic this hazy atmosphere, the presence of Paula became mingled with the haunting memories of a painful childhood. Meuse in oblivion, Philippe Claudel skilfully evokes renunciation and acceptance of mourning, and renders accurately the suffering and shame that only time diminishes.

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