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About the Author

Julien Sandrel was born in 1980 in the South of France, and lives in Paris. His first novel, The Book of Wonders, was first published in France by Éditions Calmann-Lévy in March 2018. It has become a worldwide phenomenon, selling in more than twenty-five countries and is currently being adapted for film.

Ros Schwartz has translated some ninety works of fiction and non-fiction from French, including a new translation of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince and, most recently, Mireille Gansel’s Translation as Transhumance. She was made a Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres in 2009.

Dedication

For Mathilde

For my daughter and son

So, tell me something, Miss Thelma.

How is it you ain’t got any kids?

I mean God gets you something special,

I think you oughta pass it on.

Thelma & Louise, Callie Khouri (writer)

1

My King

1

10:32

‘Louis, time to wake up! Come on, I’m not going to say it again: please, get yourself up and dressed, or we’ll be late. It’s already nine twenty.’

This was the start of what was to become the worst day of my entire life. I didn’t know it yet, but there would be a ‘before’ and an ‘after’ that Saturday, 7 January 2017. There would forever be ‘before’ – the minute preceding 10:32 a.m. – with its smiles, fleeting joys and memories imprinted on my brain, which I wish I could freeze for eternity. There would forever be ‘after’: the whys, the if onlys, the tears, the screams, the prohibitively expensive mascara running down my cheeks, the wailing sirens, the eyes full of sickening compassion, the gut-wrenching spasm of denial. At the time, of course, I was oblivious to all that. It was a secret that only the gods – if they existed, which I strongly doubted – could know. What were they saying to one another, those divinities, at 9:20? One more, one less, what difference does it make? Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Not really, but why not? You’re right – why not? – it won’t change the world. I was far from all that, far from the gods, far from my heart. At that moment, I was just me, so close to the tipping point, the moment of rupture, of no return. I was just me, and I was furious at Louis, who was making no effort whatsoever.