Laure Manel, The Intoxication of Dragonflies (Book Review)

Laure Manel, L’ivresse des libellules (The Intoxication of Dragonflies) This book came out at the height of the Covid pandemic in June 2020. I found it in a book box. As soon as I started it, I was hooked. And I devoured it quite quickly. I even told myself that I needed to slow down a bit to make the pleasure last longer. Several times I told myself that she was an incredible writer, that I absolutely had to buy all her other books, namely ‘The Delicacy of the Lobster’, ‘The Melancholy of the Kangaroo’ and ‘The Story of @’.

But surprising as it may seem, especially after my enthusiastic introduction, I didn’t like the book all that much! I’d go so far as to say that there were about fifty pages too many, which were a real pain to read. Although the beginning is well written, gripping and interesting, and you can more or less easily find yourself or recognise those around you (at least at the beginning!), everything became trivial, irritating and heavy after that. Yet the story of four couples who decide to go to a dream location without the children to spend an incredible holiday was a wonderful idea. Especially when the idea comes from the only one without children, of course!

Everything was there for arguments to break out. Because, as we all know, it’s hard to spend several days with people, even when you adore them. And the settling of scores is often done in a cowardly way. When you attack someone about something, it’s easier to do it in front of witnesses, because you can destabilise and humiliate them so that their repartee is even more confused and weakened. But the subjects of the arguments here are all familiar and distressingly banal.

Warning: Spoilers Alerts! People say that in American films and stories there’s always deceit and adultery. That’s a big misunderstanding of French culture! It seems almost normal for them too. And, this is just my opinion, I have the impression that in American art, they are more severely punished for this kind of act, whereas in the French-speaking world, they forgive more easily. As if it wasn’t really that serious! Especially if the couple has been together for a very long time. At least that’s what some of the pages in this book show.

You can’t say that Laure Manel doesn’t know human psychology. She’s a keen observer, but she has a very feminine point of view. Men are clichés, and women even more so. Between the one who has a new lover and talks like her kids, the one who is superficial and takes photos of herself all the time for her Instagram, the one who is a bit strong and hates sport while complaining that her man doesn’t look at her any more and the one who is the mediator, always with the right words at the right time. As for the men, of course they don’t feel like cooking, they behave like kids, drink beer, are interested in insects or go for a morning jog. It’s not easy to write a story. It’s a really difficult exercise. But pointing out all the faults of people who are unbearable, when they’re probably just normal to the author, is almost sickening. Overall: I’m not going to spoil or spit on the pleasure of having discovered this book, or of having devoured it for more than half of it. But the disappointment of the ending has gained a lot of ground in my mind.

Once my favourite character was gone, the flavour lost quite a bit. And there’s no justice for that person. The characters become more and more burdensome, especially once the damage is done. You can’t pretend any more after that. You can’t pretend it never happened. Between those who are weak and those who can’t even speak, talk to each other to try and sort out misunderstandings or those who complain all the time. For people who totally identify with these characters, it must be a delight. For those who don’t, it’s an ordeal. It’s a bit like reading a book on fashion, even though it’s an area we loathe. So I don’t think I’ll be reading her other books.

My Rating