A new direction for French literature!
The most beautiful literature published in this era!
A brilliant, thrilling, and heart-pounding novel

Pierre Lemaître's Goncourt Prize-winning novel, Orbuir (2013, Albin Michel), was published by Open Books.
Pierre Lemaître is a late-blooming writer who made his debut at the age of 55, and his first novel, Irène, made a brilliant debut when it won the Cognac Mystery Literature Festival Novel Prize.
In 2013, he won the Prix Goncourt, one of the world's top three literary awards and France's highest literary award, for "Orboir," and emerged as a leading figure in European literature.
It was unusual even in France for a popular literature writer to be selected for the highest literary award, which is given based on literary and artistic merit.
Lemaître, who proved himself to be a writer with both popularity and literary value by winning the Prix Goncourt, is considered a new horizon and a new paradigm for French literature.

This book, "Orbuar," is set in Paris, France after World War I, and contains an unprecedented fraud story about two young men, wounded by the war waged by the older generation, who fight against a hypocritical world.
The process by which even war develops into a struggle for vested interests among businessmen is depicted with a meticulous composition and a thrilling writing style.
The author, who possesses a thrilling sensibility comparable to that of a Hollywood film and the delicate sensibility and profound philosophy characteristic of French literature, has produced a masterpiece that perfectly combines suspense, humor, crime and twists, love and reconciliation, and tragedy.




2013 Prix Goncourt
2013 French National Broadcasting Literature Award
2013 Le Point - Nancy City Book Award
2013 Brignole City Literary Award
2013 Lire-L'Express [Best French Novel]
Selected as the best French novel by Libre Hebdo in 2013
Selected as one of the best books of the year by Le Point magazine in 2013

Albert's face turned pale, and his temples began to throbbed at an unimaginable rate.
All the blood vessels in my body are about to burst.
He calls Cecil.
I want to get between her legs.
I want to be squeezed so tightly that I can't stand it.
But Cecil's appearance doesn't reach him.
It's as if he's too far away to come, and that's what breaks his heart the most.
That I can't see her now, that she's not by my side.
Now only her name remains.
Because in the world he is now immersed in, there are no bodies, only words.
He wants to beg her to go with him.
Dying is terrifyingly scary.
But it's a futile effort.
He must die alone without her.
Well then, goodbye, see you in heaven.
After a very long time.
Hello, my Cecil.
--- p.37~38

People from nearby cities came and talked to the soldiers.
They had miserable faces.
Women stretched out their arms and held out photographs, saying they were looking for their sons and husbands.
It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
The fathers stayed behind.
It has always been women who have struggled, who have asked questions, who have continued their silent struggle, and who have risen again each morning with the sliver of hope that still remains.
The men had long since given up hope.
The soldiers who were asked the question nodded and answered vaguely.
The pictures were all similar.
--- p.146

Edouard didn't think much about his family, but he thought more about Madeleine than about anyone else.
I had quite a few memories of her.
The laughter that threatened to burst out, the smile sent from the door, the crooked fingers that scratched his head, and their complicity.
My heart felt heavy when I thought of her.
When she heard the news of her brother's death, she must have been heartbroken, as any woman who has lost someone would be.
But then comes the time, the great doctor… … .
People eventually get used to someone's death.
--- p.284

He would pick up this wooden billboard near the subway station every morning and carry it around, then swap it out for something else during his quick lunch break.
The staff, mostly discharged soldiers who had yet to find regular jobs, numbered about ten per district, and there was a supervisor there, a vicious man who was always hiding somewhere, and if you stopped for a moment to rub his shoulder, he would jump out like lightning and threaten to fire you if you didn't move right away.
(…) It was forbidden to even stand for a moment to take out the hat from the pocket.
I had to keep walking.
“Walking is your job,” the supervisor used to say.
"Weren't you a [land dog] in the army? This is the same."

--- p.391~392

Albert's face turned pale, and his temples began to throbbed at an unimaginable rate.
All the blood vessels in my body are about to burst.
He calls Cecil.
I want to get between her legs.
I want to be squeezed so tightly that I can't stand it.
But Cecil's appearance doesn't reach him.
It's as if he's too far away to come, and that's what breaks his heart the most.
That I can't see her now, that she's not by my side.
Now only her name remains.
Because in the world he is now immersed in, there are no bodies, only words.
He wants to beg her to go with him.
Dying is terrifyingly scary.
But it's a futile effort.
He must die alone without her.
Well then, goodbye, see you in heaven.
After a very long time.
Hello, my Cecil.
--- pp.37-38

People from nearby cities came and talked to the soldiers.
They had miserable faces.
Women stretched out their arms and held out photographs, saying they were looking for their sons and husbands.
It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
The fathers stayed behind.
It has always been women who have struggled, who have asked questions, who have continued their silent struggle, and who have risen again each morning with the sliver of hope that still remains.
The men had long since given up hope.
The soldiers who were asked the question nodded and answered vaguely.
The pictures were all similar.
--- p.146

Edouard didn't think much about his family, but he thought more about Madeleine than about anyone else.
I had quite a few memories of her.
The laughter that threatened to burst out, the smile sent from the door, the crooked fingers that scratched his head, and their complicity.
My heart felt heavy when I thought of her.
When she heard the news of her brother's death, she must have been heartbroken, as any woman who has lost someone would be.
But then comes the time, the great doctor… … .
People eventually get used to someone's death.
--- p.284

"Okay, let me tell you what's ethical.
That's what we're gonna do, Captain Pradel, put a bullet in that son of a bitch! That's what we're gonna do! Because this shitty life, this pathetic mess we're in right now, it all comes from him! (...) I think he'd have a great marriage, thanks to all those medals and citations...
A hero like that would be a fight among women! While we're all languishing like this, that guy must have made a big deal out of it...
Do you think this is ethical?
Surprisingly, Edouard had a cold expression on his face, contrary to Albert's expectations.
He raised his eyebrows, bent over the paper, and wrote:
“All of this is primarily because of the war.
If there had been no war, there would have been no Pradel.
Albert was breathless.
Of course I felt disappointed, but more than anything, I was so, so sad.
--- pp.355-356

He would pick up this wooden billboard near the subway station every morning and carry it around, then swap it out for something else during his lunch break, when he would just do a quick yoga.
The staff, mostly discharged soldiers who had yet to find regular jobs, numbered about ten per district, and there was a supervisor there, a vicious man who was always hiding somewhere, and if you stopped for a moment to rub his shoulder, he would jump out like lightning and threaten to fire you if you didn't move right away.
(…) It was forbidden to even stand for a moment to take out the hat from the pocket.
I had to keep walking.
“Walking is your job,” the supervisor used to say.
"Weren't you a [land dog] in the army? This is the same."
--- pp.391-392

For a long time, Merlin would recall the night he had given up on Nodaji.
Giving up Nodaji was for something that felt, if not more valuable, at least closer to ethics.
Although he was not usually fond of the Gotham Junron theory, after retirement, the incidents of the soldiers who were discovered continued to occupy his mind.
Was it necessary to retire in order to take an interest in world affairs and read newspapers?
Through these newspapers he learned of the arrest of Henri Donepradel and the sensational trial of the so-called [Death Moracles].
He read the article reporting his court testimony with a thrill of satisfaction.
But this article was not at all respectful to him.
The reporters did not like this gloomy witness, who was so unpleasant in appearance that he roughly pushed them away when they tried to interview him on the steps in front of the Supreme Court.
Then the world's interests changed, and people lost interest in this case.
Albert's face turned pale, and his temples began to throbbed at an unimaginable rate.
All the blood vessels in my body are about to burst.
He calls Cecil.
I want to get between her legs.
I want to be squeezed so tightly that I can't stand it.
But Cecil's appearance doesn't reach him.
It's as if he's too far away to come, and that's what breaks his heart the most.
That I can't see her now, that she's not by my side.
Now only her name remains.
Because in the world he is now immersed in, there are no bodies, only words.
He wants to beg her to go with him.
Dying is terrifyingly scary.
But it's a futile effort.
He must die alone without her.
Well then, goodbye, see you in heaven.
After a very long time.
Hello, my Cecil.
--- pp.37-38

People from nearby cities came and talked to the soldiers.
They had miserable faces.
Women stretched out their arms and held out photographs, saying they were looking for their sons and husbands.
It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
The fathers stayed behind.
It has always been women who have struggled, who have asked questions, who have continued their silent struggle, and who have risen again each morning with the sliver of hope that still remains.
The men had long since given up hope.
The soldiers who were asked the question nodded and answered vaguely.
The pictures were all similar.
--- p.146

Edouard didn't think much about his family, but he thought more about Madeleine than about anyone else.
I had quite a few memories of her.
The laughter that threatened to burst out, the smile sent from the door, the crooked fingers that scratched his head, and their complicity.
My heart felt heavy when I thought of her.
When she heard the news of her brother's death, she must have been heartbroken, as any woman who has lost someone would be.
But then comes the time, the great doctor… … .
People eventually get used to someone's death.
--- p.284

"Okay, let me tell you what's ethical.
That's what we're gonna do, Captain Pradel, put a bullet in that son of a bitch! That's what we're gonna do! Because this shitty life, this pathetic mess we're in right now, it all comes from him! (...) I think he'd have a great marriage, thanks to all those medals and citations...
A hero like that would be a fight among women! While we're all languishing like this, that guy must have made a big deal out of it...
Do you think this is ethical?
Surprisingly, Edouard had a cold expression on his face, contrary to Albert's expectations.
He raised his eyebrows, bent over the paper, and wrote:
“All of this is primarily because of the war.
If there had been no war, there would have been no Pradel.
Albert was breathless.
Of course I felt disappointed, but more than anything, I was so, so sad.
--- pp.355-356

He would pick up this wooden billboard near the subway station every morning and carry it around, then swap it out for something else during his quick lunch break.
The staff, mostly discharged soldiers who had yet to find regular jobs, numbered about ten per district, and there was a supervisor there, a vicious man who was always hiding somewhere, and if you stopped for a moment to rub his shoulder, he would jump out like lightning and threaten to fire you if you didn't move right away.
(…) It was forbidden to even stand for a moment to take out the hat from the pocket.
I had to keep walking.
“Walking is your job,” the supervisor used to say.
"Weren't you a [land dog] in the army? This is the same."
--- pp.391-392

For a long time, Merlin would recall the night he had given up on Nodaji.
Giving up Nodaji was for something that felt, if not more valuable, at least closer to ethics.
Although he was not usually fond of the Gotham Junron theory, after retirement, the incidents of the soldiers who were discovered continued to occupy his mind.
Was it necessary to retire in order to take an interest in world affairs and read newspapers?
Through these newspapers he learned of the arrest of Henri Donepradel and the sensational trial of the so-called [Death Moracles].
He read the article reporting his court testimony with a thrill of satisfaction.
But this article was not at all respectful to him.
The reporters did not like this gloomy witness, who was so unpleasant in appearance that he roughly pushed them away when they tried to interview him on the steps in front of the Supreme Court.
Then the world's interests changed, and people lost interest in this case.

--- pp.665-666