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| Categories | Genre Fiction |
| Author | Kristin Hannah |
| Publisher | St. Martin’s Griffin; Reprint edition (April 25, 2017) |
| Language | English |
| Paperback | 608 pages |
| Item Weight | 1.15 pounds |
| Dimensions |
5.45 x 1.55 x 8.1 inches |
I. Book introduction
The Nightingale (2015) is a historical fiction novel by American author Kristin Hannah published by St. Martin’s Press. The book tells the story of two sisters in France during World War II and their struggle to survive and resist the German occupation there.
The book was inspired by accounts of a Belgian woman, Andrée de Jongh, who helped downed Allied pilots escape Nazi territory.
The Nightingale entered multiple bestseller lists upon release. As of 2021, it has been published in 45 languages and sold more than 4.5 million copies worldwide.
Synopsis
The book uses the frame story literary device; the frame is presented in first-person narration as the remembrances of an elderly woman in 1995, whose name is initially not revealed. She has a son named Julien and lives off the coast of Oregon. However, the main action of the book is told in third-person, following two sisters, Vianne Mauriac and Isabelle Rossignol, who live in France around 1939, on the eve of World War II. The two sisters are estranged from each other and their father, and the book follows the two different paths they take.
Vianne, the eldest sister, is a married schoolteacher raising her 8-year-old daughter Sophie in her childhood home named Le Jardin in the town of Carriveau. Vianne’s husband Antoine is drafted and subsequently captured as a prisoner of war. At home, Vianne copes with the occupation of France after defeat by the Germans, and struggles to keep her and her daughter surviving in the face of poor food rations, the loss of her job, and dwindling money left behind by Antoine.
She is forced to accept billeting of Wehrmacht and SS officers at her home, and sees the increasing persecution of the Jews in town. The first officer billeted at her home is Wolfgang Beck, a kindly man who has a family in Germany. The second is Von Richter, a more sadistic officer who subjects Vianne to physical and sexual abuse.
Later in the novel, Vianne’s best friend, Rachel de Champlain, is deported to a concentration camp. Vianne adopts Rachel’s three-year-old son, Ari, and renames him as “Daniel” to hide his Jewish identity. Soon after, Vianne undertakes to hide nineteen more Jewish children in a nearby abbey’s orphanage. Meanwhile, Von Richter uses sexual violence as a means of control over Vianne.
When the war ends, Antoine returns from the POW camp, but they must both cope with the aftermath of the occupation. Vianne is 1 month pregnant by Von Richter, but she decides not to tell her husband this. She has come to love Ari like a son, but must give him up as his cousins in the United States claim him to be raised there.
Isabelle, the younger and more impetuous sister, decides to take an active role in resisting the occupation. After being expelled from finishing school, she travels from Paris to Carriveau on foot, meeting a young rebel named Gaëtan Dubois along the way. In Carriveau, she joins the French Resistance and is initially tasked with distributing anti-Nazi propaganda.
After moving to a cell in Paris, she develops a plan to help downed Allied airmen escape to the British embassy in neutral Spain, from where they can be repatriated. She is successful, and with support from other Resistance operators (including her father, with whom she begins to rebuild a relationship) and the British MI9, this becomes her primary task throughout the war.
She earns the code name “Nightingale”, and is actively hunted by the Nazis. She is eventually captured. Although her father falsely confesses to being the Nightingale to save her, she is sent to a concentration camp in Germany. She undergoes hellish conditions at the camp but survives long enough to see the end of the war. She makes her way to Vianne, and they reconcile. She reunites with Gaëtan briefly before dying from typhus and pneumonia, which she contracted at the camp.
The elderly narrator is revealed to be Vianne, who receives an invitation to an event in Paris to honor her sister, “The Nightingale”. She travels with her son Julien, who has never been told about his family’s activities during the war or his true father. After the event, Vianne reunites with Ari, and she comes to peace with her memories of the war.
About Kristin Hannah
Kristin Hannah (born September 25, 1960) is an American writer. Her most notable works include Winter Garden, The Nightingale, Firefly Lane, The Great Alone, and The Four Winds. In 2024, St. Martin’s Publishing Group published her novel, The Women, which is set in America in the 1960s.
Kristin Hannah was born in California. After graduating with a degree in communication from the University of Washington, Hannah worked at an advertising agency in Seattle. She graduated from the University of Puget Sound law school and practiced law in Seattle before becoming a full-time writer. Hannah wrote her first novel with her mother, who was dying of cancer at the time, but the book was never published.
Hannah’s best-selling work, The Nightingale, has sold over 4.5 million copies worldwide and has been published in 45 languages.
Hannah lives on Bainbridge Island, Washington, with her husband and their son.
II. Reviewer: The Nightingale
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1. EMILY MAY reviews for The Nightingale
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Isabelle. Paris is overrun. The Nazis control the city. What is an eighteen-year-old girl to do about all of that?”
What, indeed.
I really didn’t know what to expect going into The Nightingale. Given the quote about love and war in the blurb, I kind of thought it might be an historical romance set during the Second World War – like the world really needs another The Bronze Horseman – but it turned out to be so much more than that.
There are love stories in The Nightingale, but that’s not really what the book is about. It’s about women in wartime, and it’s an interesting, moving portrait of the Nazi occupation of France and what this meant for all the wives, daughters and widows left behind. We’re told in the book that men always assume war is about them – it’s true – so this is the untold story of the home front.
These are the women who are forced to house Nazi soldiers, the women who are manipulated into betraying their friends, the women who wish they could fight for their country and the women who secretly do. The main story is about two very different sisters – Vianne and Isabelle – who are trying to survive during wartime.
Vianne is older and misses her husband (who is in a Nazi war camp); she must deal with her rebellious younger sister and the Nazi soldier living in her home, whilst also making sure her daughter doesn’t starve. Isabelle is one of those borderline insufferable characters that also inspires affection. She reminds me of fiery, annoying, but ultimately lovable heroines like Scarlett O’Hara from Gone with the Wind and Kitty from The Painted Veil. The best thing about her, though, is her growth. She starts out a naive 18 year old who falls in love with handsome young men instantly, and she later grows into someone wiser. I loved the way her characterization was handled.
On that note about falling in love, this book throws up a number of red herrings. When Isabelle instantly falls for Gaetan, I was rolling my eyes and thinking “oh great. It’s that kind of book.” But don’t worry, that isn’t the story being told here and Isabelle has a lot to learn. It’s a multilayered book and none of the relationships are straight forward.
And it’s also incredibly sad and moving in parts, as a book about war generally is. Children in wartime are forced to grow up so fast in order to survive. Take, for example, this exchange between Vianne and her daughter:
“Vianne cupped Sophie’s thin face in her hands. “Sarah died last night,” she said gently.
“Died? She wasn’t sick.”
Vianne steeled herself. “It happens that way sometimes. God takes you unexpectedly. She’s gone to Heaven. To be with her grandmère, and yours.”
Sophie pulled away, got to her feet, backed away. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“She’s Jewish.”
Vianne hated what she saw in her daughter’s eyes right now. There was nothing young in her gaze—no innocence, no naïveté, no hope.”
You really get a sense of how the Nazis took over the lives of the French people. How it was subtle and manipulative, built on fear. They gradually caused divisions within communities, scaring people into betraying their friends.
It wasn’t a perfect book, if there is such a creature. There were some slow parts that could have been shortened or edited out all together. And I wish the author hadn’t used a bunch of American terms and measurements. For example, a “cup” measurement is not used in France. But whatever, I enjoyed it a lot.
In the silence between them, she heard a frog croak and the leaves fluttering in a jasmine-scented breeze above their heads. A nightingale sang a sad and lonely song.
2. CINDY reviews for The Nightingale
4.5 stars. I didn’t mind that the story was slow because I thoroughly enjoyed the writing and was engaged throughout the book. Hannah writes so descriptively that it made me enjoy the journey and really painted the atmosphere of France. Each line was rich in detail and you could tell had been researched. And yes, I’m one of the many people who cried reading the ending lol.
What would have made me fully embrace the book is if both romances had been developed better and the characterization had been stronger. Isabelle still felt like a caricature of a “rebellious girl” to me with no other qualities (even though she was such a badass in the end). I also think if the book is going to focus on women during WW2, Hannah could have emphasized the sister relationship better instead of making them disjointed for most of the story (even if just thinking about the other sister or showing memories of them throughout the book). Since the romance wasn’t that well-developed we could have used that time for the sister relationship instead to really hone in on the theme and purpose of this book. Nonetheless, I still enjoyed this book and its beautiful writing. I will say though that I cried much harder in “All the Light We Cannot See” and “Lovely War” so maybe that’s why I hesitate to fully give it 5 stars, because I know I am capable of more tears!
3. LORI ELLIOTT reviews for The Nightingale
With tears still running down my cheeks I’m writing this review. I’ve started this review several times and I don’t think I’ll be able to adequately put into words the power in which this novel has moved me. Truely a remarkable story that I, literally, beg everyone who loves historical fiction to read. I will be gushing about this novel for some time to come.
4. READING TAMISHLY reviews for The Nightingale
Halfway through the book I was like I don’t think I will cry or even feel sad, why is everyone talking about how sad it is and making a big deal out of it.
Trudge on, I told myself.
Then came the second half of the book.
It’s insanely fast paced by then for a historical fiction. And things started making sense.
Regarding the first half of the book, I was busy judging the characters and the events that were happening. But still the writing style’s really good that it was not an issue continuing on.
The characters seem complex and unreasonable at the beginning but things fall in place as the story continues. Relationships develop and you will want more of these characters. All you would want is to make them all be together and enjoy a good meal at least once before the book ends.
The separations and the heartbreaks, the communication gaps and the unavoidable situations will break you. The ending is beautiful yet it leaves you totally sobbing and broken. But your heart will have the acceptance and closure, the ending feels so wholesome.
I have never cried so hard reading a fiction in my entire life.
This book is all about family and I am a sucker for historical fiction ☕
**Is there any other book in which sisters sacrifice this much for each other?
Let me grieve. I won’t be the same again.
This book is my most memorable read at the end of 2019.
5. CVZ reviews for The Nightingale
A Literary Masterpiece Transformed Into A Heartbreaking Yet Empowering Movie For The Mind’s Eye
I finished reading “The Women” a month ago and fell in love with the storytelling ability of Kristin Hannah. I was drawn to “The Nightingale” hoping against hope that this book will also gift me with an enlightenment of sorts. Well… it was well beyond my expectations! Ms. Hannah does NOT spare her readers from the cruel realities of war. I was literally drawn into the story and felt what the characters were feeling and could see what they were experiencing in their environment. All the deprivation, loss of freedom, heartache, sacrifice, and unimaginable loss and heroism time and time and time again played in a loop for readers to witness throughout the story.
Two sisters, each so different in personality traits yet both a product of a father who lost his ability to parent, take separate paths when the Germans occupied France. Both have incredible fortitude and unmatched resilience. They shared the ability to stay strong and persevere through insurmountable odds. Isabelle ….”every barrier she turned into a gate.” Vianne…. nurturer, mother, savior and protector. Both were “Nightingales” in their own right.
There are so many valuable lessons to take away from this incredible narrative. To summarize, life choices are not always black or white, right or wrong. One has to take into account the circumstances surrounding our choices. This can’t be any more true than in the grips of war.
This story and the way it was delivered, is a masterpiece! Kristin Hannah is a truly stellar writer and I’m more than privileged to have the opportunity to read her works. She HAS enlightened me once again with a story depicting the contributions of women in crucial times where their bravery and sacrifice has been understated if not neglected all together.
The Audible narration is beyond words too! It adds so much to the delivery of the story. Recommended.
I will most definitely continue to read books by Kristin Hannah. Just need a little time to recovery emotionally from this intensely powerful read.
6. JJSPINA reviews for The Nightingale
An Emotional and heartbreaking tale of survival!
The Nightingale is an epic historical novel in France during WW11. It details the lives of two sisters, both heroic in their own way helping others to safety from the Nazi invasion. They persevere even though they are heartbroken over the death of their beloved mother and the abandonment of their father.
The story is detailed by one of the sisters throughout the story. We do not know which one is telling the tale until the end. The author bases the story on some heroic women who took many Allied soldiers over the Pyrenees to safety. While one sister takes this trek many times over, her sister is busy trying to keep her family together while her husband is fighting the war and protect all the children who have been abandoned or separated from their parents after they are arrested by the Nazis and taken away to work camps.
This is a tender, heart wrenching story that tells of the cruelty of the Nazis and how much the people who were oppressed by them suffered. It shows the tenacity and strength of the women who were left behind after their husbands went to war and the power of love to last through adversity.
I highly recommend this story but be prepared to have tissues ready. It is a heartbreaking tale.
7. JESSICA reviews for The Nightingale
Phenomenal book, engaging story line
Kristin Hannah has quickly become my favorite modern day author. The Nightingale is expertly written, reads well and sucks you right in. I couldn’t put it down. Finished the book in 3 days. Another great book of hers. Highly recommend!!!
8. IRINA reviews for The Nightingale
I’m crying 😭💔 I read a lot of amazing books this year but this one broke me. This novel was everything that I wanted in a historical fiction.
I don’t know how to express what I feel right now. This book is a must read for everyone.
9. HEATHER reviews for The Nightingale
This book wrecked me. Let me say that again, It WRECKED me. I have never cried so hard while reading a book. It was beyond amazing, beyond moving and it’s a story I will never forget.
🇫🇷 📖
I’m sure you’ve heard of this book. It’s been hyped ever since it came out & will amazing reason. I’ve stayed away from it because of the hype & because I’m not the biggest fan of historical fiction but I was so glad to be proved wrong on both accounts.
📖
🌌
This is a book that will grip you from the minute you start it and will not let you go. It makes you feel for every single character and it shows you the journey of 2 sisters who live in France when WWII begins. I’m not going to sugarcoat it; this book is brutal. It shows you the horrors of war, the scary, horrible things that happen. These 2 sisters went through the worst things possible. 🏙
🇫🇷
Suffice to say I loved this book. It’s by far my favorite book of the year ( and if I’m honest I don’t think anything will top it.) and it will be a favorite for life. If your hesitant to pick it up please don’t. It will change your life, it will make you sob, but it will make you hope and make you fall in love.
SERIOUSLY READ IT RIGHT NOW!
I probably won’t ever shut up about this book, sorry in advance.
🌌
Just kidding I’m not sorry, it’s amazing and everyone should read it.
10. MANDY reviews for The Nightingale
I don’t even know where to start this review. I am typing it through teary eyes, so I will keep it simple. (Insert tissues here)
My pick for Vianne when this becomes a movie is Naomi Watts or Kate Winslet and for Isabella is Julianne Hough or Amanda Seyfried. Let’s see if Hollywood takes my suggestion!
This WW2 novel was so beautifully written. This war was a time of bitter hatred and in this story Kristin Hannah brings to life love, survival, bitterness, strength, and persistence.
Vianne and Isabelle are the most outstanding characters I’ve ever read. It would be an honor to know them if they were real. I have so much more I could add but I will not because it would take so much of my review.
This is a story that will make you cry and have hope in believing that if you keep stepping forward and never looking back you will make it.
I highly recommend this book. It’s absolutely wonderful and a gorgeous story. I will cherish it always as it is now one of my top 3 favorites 🙂
I’m looking forward to this movie becoming a film. I will be there opening night 🙂 in the front row!!!
III. The Nightingale Quotes
The best book quotes from The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah
“If I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: in love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are.”
“Men tell stories. Women get on with it. For us it was a shadow war. There were no parades for us when it was over, no medals or mentions in history books. We did what we had to during the war, and when it was over, we picked up the pieces and started our lives over.”
“But love has to be stronger than hate, or there is no future for us.”
“Wounds heal. Love lasts. We remain.”
“Some stories don’t have happy endings. Even love stories. Maybe especially love stories.”
“Love. It was the beginning and end of everything, the foundation and the ceiling and the air in between.”
“Perhaps that’s why I find myself looking backward. The past has a clarity I can no longer see in the present.”
“I know that grief, like regret, settles into our DNA and remains forever a part of us.”
“Today’s young people want to know everything about everyone. They think talking about a problem will solve it. I come from a quieter generation. We understand the value of forgetting, the lure of reinvention.”
“I am a mother and mothers don’t have the luxury of falling apart in front of their children, even when they are afraid, even when their children are adults.”
“It is easy to disappear when no one is looking at you.”
“Tante Isabelle says it’s better to be bold than meek. She says if you jump off a cliff at least you’ll fly before you fall.”
“You’re not alone, and you’re not the one in charge,” Mother said gently. “Ask for help when you need it, and give help when you can. I think that is how we serve God—and each other and ourselves—in times as dark as these.”
“But when he looked at her—and she looked at him—they both knew that there was something worse than kissing the wrong person. It was wanting to.”
“You are my sunlight in the dark and the ground beneath my feet.”
“In love we find out who we want to be, in war we find out who we are.”
“It is not biology that determines fatherhood. It is love.”
“She wanted to bottle how safe she felt in this moment, so she could drink of it later when loneliness and fear left her parched.”
“If you’re going through hell, keep going.”
“I had forgotten how gently time passes in Paris. As lively as the city is, there’s a stillness to it, a peace that lures you in. In Paris, with a glass of wine in your hand, you can just be.”
“How fragile life was, how fragile they were.
Love.
It was the beginning and end of everything, the foundation and the ceiling and the air in between. It didn’t matter that she was broken and ugly and sick. He loved her and she loved him, All her life she had waited -longed for – people to love her, but now she saw what she really mattered. She had known love, been blessed by it.”“I belong to a generation that didn’t expect to be protected from every danger. We knew the risks and took them anyway.”
“He loves a version of me that is incomplete. I always thought it was what I wanted: to be loved and admired. Now I think perhaps I’d like to be known.”
“She was so tired of being strong.”
“A girl’s love for her father. Immutable. Unbearable but unbreakable.”
“She has a steel exterior, but it protects a candyfloss heart.”
“If I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: In love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are. Today’s young people want to know everything about everyone. They think talking about a problem will solve it. I come from a quieter generation. We understand the value of forgetting, the lure of reinvention.”
“know now what matters, and it is not what I have lost. It is my memories. Wounds heal. Love lasts.”
“If there’s one thing I never do, it’s stop.”
“With all the risks they were taking, love was probably the most dangerous choice of all.”
“Ask for help when you need it, and give help when you can.”
“Don’t think about who they are. Think about who you are and what sacrifices you can live with and what will break you.”
“Vianne didn’t hesitate. She knew now that no one could be neutral—not anymore—and as afraid as she was of risking Sophie’s life, she was suddenly more afraid of letting her daughter grow up in a world where good people did nothing to stop evil, where a good woman could turn her back on a friend in need. She reached for the toddler, took him in her arms.”
“She wanted to say “Don’t leave me”, but she couldn’t do it, not again. She was so tired of begging people to love her.”
“I know now what matters, and it is not what I have lost. It is my memories. Wounds heal. Love lasts. We remain.”
“Memories- even the best of them- faded.”
Excerpted from The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah
Nightingale
By Kristin Hannah
St. Martin’s Press
Copyright © 2015 Kristin Hannah
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-312-57722-3
ONE
April 9, 1995
The Oregon Coast
If I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: In love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are. Today’s young people want to know everything about everyone. They think talking about a problem will solve it. I come from a quieter generation. We understand the value of forgetting, the lure of reinvention.
Lately, though, I find myself thinking about the war and my past, about the people I lost.
Lost.
It makes it sound as if I misplaced my loved ones; perhaps I left them where they don’t belong and then turned away, too confused to retrace my steps.
They are not lost. Nor are they in a better place. They are gone. As I approach the end of my years, I know that grief, like regret, settles into our DNA and remains forever a part of us.
I have aged in the months since my husband’s death and my diagnosis. My skin has the crinkled appearance of wax paper that someone has tried to flatten and reuse. My eyes fail me often— in the darkness, when headlights flash, when rain falls. It is unnerving, this new unreliability in my vision. Perhaps that’s why I find myself looking backward. The past has a clarity I can no longer see in the present.
I want to imagine there will be peace when I am gone, that I will see all of the people I have loved and lost. At least that I will be forgiven. I know better, though, don’t I?
My house, named The Peaks by the lumber baron who built it over a hundred years ago, is for sale, and I am preparing to move because my son thinks I should.
He is trying to take care of me, to show how much he loves me in this most difficult of times, and so I put up with his controlling ways. What do I care where I die? That is the point, really. It no longer matters where I live. I am boxing up the Oregon beachside life I settled into nearly fifty years ago. There is not much I want to take with me. But there is one thing.
I reach for the hanging handle that controls the attic steps. The stairs unfold from the ceiling like a gentleman extending his hand.
The flimsy stairs wobble beneath my feet as I climb into the attic, which smells of must and mold. A single, hanging lightbulb swings overhead. I pull the cord.
It is like being in the hold of an old steamship. Wide wooden planks panel the walls; cobwebs turn the creases silver and hang in skeins from the indentation between the planks. The ceiling is so steeply pitched that I can stand upright only in the center of the room.
I see the rocking chair I used when my grandchildren were young, then an old crib and a ratty- looking rocking horse set on rusty springs, and the chair my daughter was refinishing when she got sick. Boxes are tucked along the wall, marked “Xmas,” “Thanksgiving,” “Easter,” “Halloween,” “Serveware,” “Sports.” In those boxes are the things I don’t use much anymore but can’t bear to part with. For me, admitting that I won’t decorate a tree for Christmas is giving up, and I’ve never been good at letting go. Tucked in the corner is what I am looking for: an ancient steamer trunk covered in travel stickers.
With effort, I drag the heavy trunk to the center of the attic, directly beneath the hanging light. I kneel beside it, but the pain in my knees is piercing, so I slide onto my backside.
For the first time in thirty years, I lift the trunk’s lid. The top tray is full of baby memorabilia. Tiny shoes, ceramic hand molds, crayon drawings populated by stick figures and smiling suns, report cards, dance recital pictures.
I lift the tray from the trunk and set it aside.
The mementos in the bottom of the trunk are in a messy pile: several faded leather- bound journals; a packet of aged postcards, tied together with a blue satin ribbon; a cardboard box, bent in one corner; a set of slim books of poetry by Julien Rossignol; and a shoebox that holds hundreds of black- and- white photographs.
On top is a yellowed, faded piece of paper.
My hands are shaking as I pick it up. It is a carte d’identité, an identity card, from the war. I see the small, passport- sized photo of a young woman. Juliette Gervaise.
“Mom?”
I hear my son on the creaking wooden steps, footsteps that match my heartbeats. Has he called out to me before?
“Mom? You shouldn’t be up here. Shit. The steps are unsteady.” He comes to stand beside me. “One fall and—”
I touch his pant leg, shake my head softly. I can’t look up. “Don’t” is all
I can say.
He kneels, then sits. I can smell his aftershave, something subtle and spicy, and also a hint of smoke. He has sneaked a cigarette outside, a habit he gave up de cades ago and took up again at my recent diagnosis. There is no reason to voice my disapproval: He is a doctor. He knows better. My instinct is to toss the card into the trunk and slam the lid down, hiding it again. It’s what I have done all my life.
Now I am dying. Not quickly, perhaps, but not slowly, either, and I feel compelled to look back on my life.
“Mom, you’re crying.”
“Am I?”
I want to tell him the truth, but I can’t. It embarrasses and shames me, this failure. At my age, I should not be afraid of anything— certainly not my own past.
I say only, “I want to take this trunk.” “It’s too big. I’ll repack the things you want into a smaller box.”
I smile at his attempt to control me. “I love you and I am sick again. For these reasons, I have let you push me around, but I am not dead yet. I want this trunk with me.”
“What can you possibly need in it? It’s just our artwork and other junk.” If I had told him the truth long ago, or had danced and drunk and sung more, maybe he would have seen me instead of a dependable, ordinary mother. He loves a version of me that is incomplete. I always thought it was what I wanted: to be loved and admired. Now I think perhaps I’d like to be known.
“Think of this as my last request.”
I can see that he wants to tell me not to talk that way, but he’s afraid his voice will catch. He clears his throat. “You’ve beaten it twice before. You’ll beat it again.”
We both know this isn’t true. I am unsteady and weak. I can neither sleep nor eat without the help of medical science. “Of course I will.” “I just want to keep you safe.”
I smile. Americans can be so naïve. Once I shared his optimism. I thought the world was safe. But that was a long time ago.
“Who is Juliette Gervaise?” Julien says and it shocks me a little to hear that name from him.
I close my eyes and in the darkness that smells of mildew and bygone lives, my mind casts back, a line thrown across years and continents. Against my will— or maybe in tandem with it, who knows anymore?— I remember.
….
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