People often say that reading is a form of travel, and it’s more than just a convenient metaphor. I sometimes think books move us more deeply than most real journeys. They allow us to discover a place, a time or a sensibility with an intensity that lived experience rarely matches. “Soon we are captives of reading, chained by the ease it offers us to know, to slip effortlessly into extraordinary destinies, to feel powerful sensations with the mind, to embark on prodigious and consequence-free adventures, to act without acting (...), to add an infinity of emotions, fictional experiences, and observations that are not our own to what we are and what we might become.” wrote Paul Valery.
I'm a heavy reader, I read every day, and books simply matter to me. This new column stems from the belief that they deserve a place in How to get lost in France, because in the end, they feed the journey as much as the road itself. So the idea is simply to create a space to recommend books the way we’d recommend a road: with subjectivity and enthusiasm.
To launch this series, I turned to my friend Timothée Bongrain, bookseller in Saint-Lunaire, northern Brittany. He runs La Librairie Curieuse, a place as lively and generous as he is. Timothée has a rare gift for placing the right book in the right hands at just the right moment. Here are his reading recommendations
What book should someone read to begin their journey through France—even before setting foot in the country?
Le Tour de France par deux enfants d’aujourd’hui (A Tour of France by Two Children of Today) by Pierre Adrian and Philibert Humm. Co-written by two childhood friends (both excellent writers in their own right), this travelogue captures a France rooted in everyday life. Far from the usual postcard clichés, it takes you from fortified towns to soccer games, from cathedrals to smoky corner bars. It’s a lively, adventurous, and joyful read about France, ingenuity, childhood, and friendship. Also worth noting: it’s incredibly funny.
And what should you read to be so thoroughly turned off that you end up preferring to stay home?
I’m drawing a blank here. Who could possibly say no to a trip to the land of lights, wine, and cheese? But if I have to pick something: Cauchemar (Nightmare) by Pierre Ferrero. This contemporary graphic novel imagines Marshal Pétain returning to power. Brought back from the dead, he flourishes in a country where old and new reactionary values merge into a disturbing hybrid... It’s chilling—and very well done.
A contemporary book to discover today’s French literary scene?
Les conditions idéales, by Mokhtar Amoudi (Ideal Conditions) – a brilliantly executed debut novel. With a fairly classic structure, the author brings contemporary France to life and shows how literature and culture still offer a path to salvation.
Or Après, by Raphaël Meltz (After) – an immersive reading experience. The “after” in the title refers to the afterlife, and the book invites the reader on a journey that’s also a farewell. Moving and, oddly enough, comforting.
One classic you must read before you die?
I’m going literal here: Le Plâtrier siffleur (The Whistling Plasterer) by Christian Bobin. A beautiful, deceptively simple text. This poetic stroll tries to show what it means to inhabit the world poetically. And if you need one more reason to read it: it’s only about fifteen pages long, leaving you more time to savor your final moments.
What’s the most beautiful book title in French literature?
L’Écume des jours (Froth on the Daydream), Voyage au bout de la nuit (Journey to the End of the Night), À la recherche du temps perdu (In Search of Lost Time), La Promesse de l’aube (Promise at Dawn), Chaque jour est un adieu (Each Day Is a Farewell), Anthologie des apparitions (Anthology of Appearances)... All proof that a great novel can come with a truly great title.
A poem to memorize and impress a crowd?
quel est donc ce pays
où tous les jours
on voudrait
demain
fuir ?
- Suzanne Rault-Balet, from Sans tristesse aucune (Without the Slightest Sadness)
This short excerpt is a perfect excuse to dive into the work of Suzanne Rault-Balet, especially this collection, which offers a contemporary language rich with inspiration, resignation, sisterhood, and sensuality.
What landscape in France immediately evokes a writer for you?
For me, everything south of the Loire is “the South.” Any Provençal landscape immediately brings Jean Giono to mind. Thinking about his writing and stories makes me want to walk, to get moving. Pure magic.
An essay to better understand France?
Métamorphoses françaises (French Metamorphoses) by Jérôme Fourquet.
Not the most original pick, but it’s such a well-done book—both in substance and style—that I can’t leave it out. It offers a retrospective of how France has transformed in just a few decades. These changes are made vivid through infographics, maps, and illustrations, supported by a clear and thorough text.
A picture book to give a child who’s learning French?
For very young children: Le grain de sable (The Grain of Sand) by Sylvain Alzial & Benoît Tardif,. A fantastic picture book for ages 3 and up. With precise writing and stunning visuals, the authors reimagine a classic tale. It invites both travel and deeper reflection on our place in the world. A real success.
For slightly older kids (7+): Mon passage secret by Max Ducos (My Secret Passage)
This playful, inventive, fast-paced picture book is built around a clear and accessible text that taps into something all kids (and adults) share: curiosity.
If France were a literary genre, what would it be—and why?
Autofiction. Because only a French person can complain endlessly and write only about themselves, yet somehow manage to touch the universal and create something sublime.
Introducing Contributor, Victor Coutard
Immerse yourself in all of Victor’s articles on his Contributor page.
Thank you for these suggestions. I just reserved a copy of Le Tour de France par deux enfants d’aujourd’hui from my local bookshop -- it sounds like it will be right up my alley.
Great selection of book titles.