This is a story about a young Parisian woman married to her surgeon husband with whom she has a young son. but her weak impressionistic style makes for an unmemorable narrative, despite the salacious subject matter. This is a book of how a singer or a song can connect so many people and touch so many hearts in a way no one else could. Adèle's fate is also less melodramatic, and did not strike me in the same way as a case of punitive moralising. Identical in appearance, utterly different in personality, they share a bond so close that nothing - or no one - can rip them apart.

So sehr sie die Menschen hasst und ihr eigenes Leben auch, so kalt und ziellos irrt sie von Sex zu Sex und fühlt dabei doch nichts. When I finished it, I was left with the difficult problem of understanding why I had liked it so much, when I was so unmoved by Jill Alexander Essbaum's Hausfrau, a book with a very similar plot and set-up, but in Zurich instead of Paris. Her life is deeply unfulfilling; her husband, who seems to love her, is a stultifying presence, parenthood is a weight around her neck, and her own mother has clearly been a lifelong source of vicious emotional blackmail.Essbaum's protagonist just irritated me; Adèle, by contrast, manages to be both more loathsome and more sympathetic. These and other details suggest that Dans le jardin de l'ogre may have more autobiographical resonance than is first apparent. Then, inconveniently, her best friend falls for husband number one - estranged Elvis impersonator - and they all head for a showdown in Las Vegas. I guess you could say it’s sort of making the point that women are objectified but that’s hardly a new idea and very banal. She is the author of two previous books: P eter and the Wolves (a memoir) and Why Labelle Matters, a finalist for the 2022 Lambda Literary Awards.

It's not the sexual release Adèle seeks but the thrill, the high from the adrenalin, the danger and the pain that she feels and, as the reader, it is terrifying.

Il y a bien sûr cette part d'horreur et de transgression qui plait dans les fictions, comme Aristote l'avait montré dans sa Poétique.

In Adèle Slimani focusses on Adèle Robinson, a journalist living in a posh neighbourhood in Paris with her three year old son and her husband, Adèle seems to wrestle with quite some issues, in particular a self-destructive and uncontrollable urge to have sex. I imagine some readers will be disappointed with the ending but for me it was nothing short of sublime, genius storytelling, leaving me raw with emotion. I was ‘surprised’ - really surprised - that a potentially intriguing topic could possibly be so down right dull and boring!Ok, she’s an addict so that explains the compulsions and lack of satisfaction but it would have been appreciated if we had had a glimpse into what caused her to act this way. However, I think this speaks to Àdele’s perception of others, that they can be so satisfied with the mundanity that she despises means they can not possibly be fully human.