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Les Fleurs d'hiver
Octobre 1918. La guerre s’achève. Toussaint rentre chez lui. Il va retrouver Jeanne, sa femme, et la petite fille qu’il n’a pas vue grandir. Mais ce n’est pas du fond des tranchées qu’il revient, c’est de l’hôpital du Val-de-Grâce, service des gueules cassées.
Pour Jeanne, ouvrière fleuriste, ce retour signifie le début d’un nouveau combat. Si pendant quatre ans elle a su affronter l’absence, la peur et les privations, le silence de l’homme qu’elle aime et le bandeau que nuit et jour il garde sur le visage seront des ennemis autrement plus cruels.
Le chemin qu’ils vont parcourir tous deux, ensemble et séparément, Angélique Villeneuve le livre ici avec pudeur, cherchant l’éblouissement dans l’ombre et les fleurs dans l’hiver.
« Elle voudrait pouvoir approcher Toussaint, lever vers lui un visage clair, elle voudrait n’avoir qu’un seul sentiment et ne rien inventer, et puis voilà que tout s’embrouille, rien n’est comme elle a prévu et elle n’a rien prévu, pas voulu y penser, pas pu croire qu’un jour ça allait vraiment arriver. »
Angélique Villeneuve, qui a vécu en Suède et en Inde, est née en 1965 à Paris où elle habite aujourd’hui.
160 pages, Paperback
First published April 3, 2014
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 61 reviews
September 20, 2021
This is a hauntingly beautiful story set in 1918 Paris about a woman, Jeanne, whose husband returns from the front after sustaining a severe facial injury. Many stories have been written about the impact of death during wartime or, conversely, happy reunions when a soldier returns home. Winter Flowers occupies that gray area where a loved one survives but is not left whole. The entire story is told from Jeanne’s point of view and a vivid world is created within her tenement building where her neighbors are also survivors navigating their own tragedies.
April 21, 2022
Winter Flowers... magnifique!
Excusez-moi s'il vous plaît. I've just this minute finished the book and I'm still—quite dreamily—in Paris.😊 I don't normally read "historical fiction". In fact, this is one of the very few I’ve ever read. But to my Goodreads friends who enjoy that genre, I say Please read this one. I promise you’ll love it!
The story takes place between 1914 and 1918—WWI or “The Great War”. You might wonder—as I did—why it was referred to, as such, and what was 'great' about it. I found this explanation horrifying:
She could only wait, then. Work, wait and worry, while she and 5-year-old Léonie struggled to stay alive and warm during 18 months of hardship as food and coal were so scarce. Léo was a toddler when her father went to war, but his photo hung on the wall above her play-space where she happily chatted away to her Papa. Upon his return in October 2018, though, neither wife nor daughter were prepared for the man who entered their flat. He wore a white mask to cover his face—always—and his incessant silence would never—ever—be broken.
In the days that followed, very slowly, little by little, they began to grow more accustomed to one other. Then just days before word came that the Allies had won, Jeanne gathered her courage to do what she'd been dreaming of for weeks. As he lay sleeping, she reached out to gently remove the mask. He awoke and their eyes met, they touched and, at long last, they were husband and wife once more. Despite the horrors the war had wrought, Jeanne realized this was the man she had always loved—the man she loved still—and it was this that set her free to let the rest of their lives together... begin.💖👨👩👧💞
Of course, there is so much more to this story. I isolated only this tiny aspect to give you a brief glimpse into a book I hope you'll consider reading. And despite an environment of death and destruction, it's a beautiful—even life-affirming—tale. Yes, The Great War left millions dead, but millions more became "the walking wounded" and in the days, weeks, months, and years that followed, they seemed, in many ways, to be the more tragic result of WWI.
5 "Lest-We-Forget" stars. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Excusez-moi s'il vous plaît. I've just this minute finished the book and I'm still—quite dreamily—in Paris.😊 I don't normally read "historical fiction". In fact, this is one of the very few I’ve ever read. But to my Goodreads friends who enjoy that genre, I say Please read this one. I promise you’ll love it!
The story takes place between 1914 and 1918—WWI or “The Great War”. You might wonder—as I did—why it was referred to, as such, and what was 'great' about it. I found this explanation horrifying:
A land, air and sea conflict so terrible, it left over 8 million military personnel and 6.6 million civilians dead. Nearly 60 percent of those who fought died. Even more went missing or were injured.It’s the story of Jeanne and Toussaint Caillet. Toussaint was hit by shrapnel in December 2016, lay alone in a ditch for two days and, once found, was taken to hospital with serious facial injuries. Doctors performed multiple surgeries in an attempt to reconstruct his face, but Toussaint was self-conscious about his appearance and sent word to Jeanne he “wanted her not to come.”
She could only wait, then. Work, wait and worry, while she and 5-year-old Léonie struggled to stay alive and warm during 18 months of hardship as food and coal were so scarce. Léo was a toddler when her father went to war, but his photo hung on the wall above her play-space where she happily chatted away to her Papa. Upon his return in October 2018, though, neither wife nor daughter were prepared for the man who entered their flat. He wore a white mask to cover his face—always—and his incessant silence would never—ever—be broken.
In the days that followed, very slowly, little by little, they began to grow more accustomed to one other. Then just days before word came that the Allies had won, Jeanne gathered her courage to do what she'd been dreaming of for weeks. As he lay sleeping, she reached out to gently remove the mask. He awoke and their eyes met, they touched and, at long last, they were husband and wife once more. Despite the horrors the war had wrought, Jeanne realized this was the man she had always loved—the man she loved still—and it was this that set her free to let the rest of their lives together... begin.💖👨👩👧💞
Of course, there is so much more to this story. I isolated only this tiny aspect to give you a brief glimpse into a book I hope you'll consider reading. And despite an environment of death and destruction, it's a beautiful—even life-affirming—tale. Yes, The Great War left millions dead, but millions more became "the walking wounded" and in the days, weeks, months, and years that followed, they seemed, in many ways, to be the more tragic result of WWI.
5 "Lest-We-Forget" stars. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
August 29, 2021
Winter Flowers is translated by Adriana Hunter (a prolific and award winning translator but I think this is the first of her books I have read) from Angélique Villeneuve’s original.
It is the latest book from the wonderful Pereine Press.
As soon as he was admitted to Val-de-Grace military hospital, Toussaint sent his wife a brief letter.
‘I want you not to come.'
Those were his words.
It was clear, definitive. It invited no reply, and Jeanne sent none.
Since then, the wounded man had sent a card regularly every month, invariably saying nothing more than that he was in good health.
When Jeanne had first read this letter, in January 1917, she was baffled, disappointed; then, as she grasped what his words really meant, stung as if by a huge wasp. No one knew how long a healing process like his might take, and nine months had already trickled by since his last leave.
On the wall, above her head, hung his portrait, Toussaint the soldier. She could no longer look at it.
Even so, she realized after a few hours that she was relieved, not only because he was alive, being treated, out of danger and in the warm, but also, perhaps, thankful that she need not be confronted with him.
With it.
The novel is set in October 1918. The rumours are that the Great War may finally be ending, and with a victory for France and its allies. But life is hard, the Spanish flu is coming back, and Jeanne’s husband Toussaint is still in a military hospital, where he has been seen December 1916, in a department specialising in treating soldiers with serious facial injuries.
Jeanne continues with her work making carefully constructed paper flowers - as summer departs and winter approaches demand is picking up - and looking after her young daughter Leonie. Then one day, and without any advance notice, Toussaint returns. But he spends much of the day sleeping, refuses to show her his face which he keeps concealed under a mask, and communicates via terse written messages - a pre-prepared “not yet” when she begs him to see the reality so she can understand what she needs to deal with and begin their new life.
The novel has clearly been carefully researched but the research shows not, as so often, in a regurgitation of facts, but rather in a meticulous recreation of feelings and impressions, what this world felt like.
As an example, Jeanne attends a ceremony for families of the fallen with her neighbour Sidonie, whose only child Eugene (her others, like Jeanne’s first daughter, all died of consumption) fell in Autumn 1917, although she is only officially notified of his death in October 1918. The author has researched speeches made by two mayors at the time, which she then renders as follows:
Standing next to Jeanne, Sideonie seems lost —she glances from left to right, her stunned eyes gradually growing dim. Jeanne holds her firmly, and the more the mayor's sentences sprawl and tie themselves in knots across their imagined landscape, the more she convulsively tightens her grip around the flesh of Sidonie's forearm, unaware that she is doing it.
The mayor's words are incomprehensible, they come and go and sting. Jeanne doesn't know whether it's up to them, the women here, these workwomen, to tame the words and arrange them in the correct order, whether it's really to them that they're addressed. They flow too quickly. They fly too high. There are too many of them.
Thunder and fire, men freezing and caked in mud and half poisoned by noxious gases, heroes, brothers, love, defeat, hope, victory, history, peace, blood, martyrs, children. His speech is riddled with these impassioned fragments. And, just like the battles experienced by those who are now dead, these official words accumulate terrifyingly chaotically over the gathering. It's a bombardment, and Jeanne, busy as she is shoring up her neighbour's faltering frame, struggles to withstand its fire for more than a
few minutes.
And then as Jeanne helps the rather numbed Sidonie to receive her certificate:
When the name Eugene Herbin rings out across the wedding room, Jeanne tenses painfully, but Sidonie, still clutched by her friend's hand, barely even shudders, merely shifting her face a few centimetres towards the voice as if, recognizing a vaguely familiar sound, she realizes she has been caught daydreaming. And then, just as quickly, her shoulders slump and she sinks back into her torpor.
The silence drags on, here and there a head swivels round, people blow their noses and murmurings gradually build in the crowd of black.
Jeanne steps towards the rostrum. Her eyes are full of tears and bulging with anger, she's shaking and keeps her head lowered. There are actually quite a number of them heading for the stage, because it's not only Sidonie whom Jeanne's half carrying in her arms: she's also taking the lost Eugene, Toussaint's damaged body and the fragile little girl who claims to have two daddies, the one in the photograph and the one who's here, some-times standing, sometimes lying down, but whose face always hurts.
The men. Eugene and Toussaint.
Half dead. With no known grave.
The women. Sidonie, Jeanne and Leo.
Neither widowed nor orphaned by the war, but still half dead for being alive, for having lost so much. And they, the three of them, these nameless women, have no body over which to weep.
The last point for Sidonie, the absence of the Toussaint she knew, his spirit as much as his face, from their lives together after his return.
Facial reconstruction surgery is also poetically compared to Sidonie’s own delicate work:
The opening is closed with two catgut stitches, turning the edges inwards to limit the loss of mucous surfaces.
A dozen stamens are attached to the tip of a vine stalk and then bound round with thread to form a broomstick shape.
In two separate incisions, one on the inside, the other outside, the edges of the aperture and the whole fibrous mass are excised.
Hyacinths come in soft, subdued colours: blue, mauve, pinkish and red are achieved from rinses with varying concentrations of lapis lazuli, crimson lake, magenta lake or carmine.
Using a buttonhole incision made in the cheek, a scalpel is introduced flatways from front to back under the integument, and the blade is drawn back deep inside.
The colour is made to fade, sometimes towards the tip of the petals, sometimes towards the stem, to achieve a wide variety of nuances.
The small wound that facilitated the insertion of the scalpel is closed with two fine sutures in silkworm gut.
The upper tip of the petals is curled using pliers, while the bases are rolled over heated balls on a cushion or a square of rubber.
Overall an intense and powerful tale although perhaps, despite the horrors predicted, a little sentimental for my taste. 3.5 stars (probably 3 for my taste, but 4 in terms of a recommendation)
It is the latest book from the wonderful Pereine Press.
an award-winning boutique publishing house, specialising in high-quality first-translations of contemporary European novellas.
We only publish books of less than 200 pages that can be read in the same time it takes to watch a film. We pride ourselves on publishing truly big stories in small packages.
Our books are beautifully designed paperback editions, using only the best paper from sustainable British sources. They are affordable, timeless collector items.
As soon as he was admitted to Val-de-Grace military hospital, Toussaint sent his wife a brief letter.
‘I want you not to come.'
Those were his words.
It was clear, definitive. It invited no reply, and Jeanne sent none.
Since then, the wounded man had sent a card regularly every month, invariably saying nothing more than that he was in good health.
When Jeanne had first read this letter, in January 1917, she was baffled, disappointed; then, as she grasped what his words really meant, stung as if by a huge wasp. No one knew how long a healing process like his might take, and nine months had already trickled by since his last leave.
On the wall, above her head, hung his portrait, Toussaint the soldier. She could no longer look at it.
Even so, she realized after a few hours that she was relieved, not only because he was alive, being treated, out of danger and in the warm, but also, perhaps, thankful that she need not be confronted with him.
With it.
The novel is set in October 1918. The rumours are that the Great War may finally be ending, and with a victory for France and its allies. But life is hard, the Spanish flu is coming back, and Jeanne’s husband Toussaint is still in a military hospital, where he has been seen December 1916, in a department specialising in treating soldiers with serious facial injuries.
Jeanne continues with her work making carefully constructed paper flowers - as summer departs and winter approaches demand is picking up - and looking after her young daughter Leonie. Then one day, and without any advance notice, Toussaint returns. But he spends much of the day sleeping, refuses to show her his face which he keeps concealed under a mask, and communicates via terse written messages - a pre-prepared “not yet” when she begs him to see the reality so she can understand what she needs to deal with and begin their new life.
The novel has clearly been carefully researched but the research shows not, as so often, in a regurgitation of facts, but rather in a meticulous recreation of feelings and impressions, what this world felt like.
As an example, Jeanne attends a ceremony for families of the fallen with her neighbour Sidonie, whose only child Eugene (her others, like Jeanne’s first daughter, all died of consumption) fell in Autumn 1917, although she is only officially notified of his death in October 1918. The author has researched speeches made by two mayors at the time, which she then renders as follows:
Standing next to Jeanne, Sideonie seems lost —she glances from left to right, her stunned eyes gradually growing dim. Jeanne holds her firmly, and the more the mayor's sentences sprawl and tie themselves in knots across their imagined landscape, the more she convulsively tightens her grip around the flesh of Sidonie's forearm, unaware that she is doing it.
The mayor's words are incomprehensible, they come and go and sting. Jeanne doesn't know whether it's up to them, the women here, these workwomen, to tame the words and arrange them in the correct order, whether it's really to them that they're addressed. They flow too quickly. They fly too high. There are too many of them.
Thunder and fire, men freezing and caked in mud and half poisoned by noxious gases, heroes, brothers, love, defeat, hope, victory, history, peace, blood, martyrs, children. His speech is riddled with these impassioned fragments. And, just like the battles experienced by those who are now dead, these official words accumulate terrifyingly chaotically over the gathering. It's a bombardment, and Jeanne, busy as she is shoring up her neighbour's faltering frame, struggles to withstand its fire for more than a
few minutes.
And then as Jeanne helps the rather numbed Sidonie to receive her certificate:
When the name Eugene Herbin rings out across the wedding room, Jeanne tenses painfully, but Sidonie, still clutched by her friend's hand, barely even shudders, merely shifting her face a few centimetres towards the voice as if, recognizing a vaguely familiar sound, she realizes she has been caught daydreaming. And then, just as quickly, her shoulders slump and she sinks back into her torpor.
The silence drags on, here and there a head swivels round, people blow their noses and murmurings gradually build in the crowd of black.
Jeanne steps towards the rostrum. Her eyes are full of tears and bulging with anger, she's shaking and keeps her head lowered. There are actually quite a number of them heading for the stage, because it's not only Sidonie whom Jeanne's half carrying in her arms: she's also taking the lost Eugene, Toussaint's damaged body and the fragile little girl who claims to have two daddies, the one in the photograph and the one who's here, some-times standing, sometimes lying down, but whose face always hurts.
The men. Eugene and Toussaint.
Half dead. With no known grave.
The women. Sidonie, Jeanne and Leo.
Neither widowed nor orphaned by the war, but still half dead for being alive, for having lost so much. And they, the three of them, these nameless women, have no body over which to weep.
The last point for Sidonie, the absence of the Toussaint she knew, his spirit as much as his face, from their lives together after his return.
Facial reconstruction surgery is also poetically compared to Sidonie’s own delicate work:
The opening is closed with two catgut stitches, turning the edges inwards to limit the loss of mucous surfaces.
A dozen stamens are attached to the tip of a vine stalk and then bound round with thread to form a broomstick shape.
In two separate incisions, one on the inside, the other outside, the edges of the aperture and the whole fibrous mass are excised.
Hyacinths come in soft, subdued colours: blue, mauve, pinkish and red are achieved from rinses with varying concentrations of lapis lazuli, crimson lake, magenta lake or carmine.
Using a buttonhole incision made in the cheek, a scalpel is introduced flatways from front to back under the integument, and the blade is drawn back deep inside.
The colour is made to fade, sometimes towards the tip of the petals, sometimes towards the stem, to achieve a wide variety of nuances.
The small wound that facilitated the insertion of the scalpel is closed with two fine sutures in silkworm gut.
The upper tip of the petals is curled using pliers, while the bases are rolled over heated balls on a cushion or a square of rubber.
Overall an intense and powerful tale although perhaps, despite the horrors predicted, a little sentimental for my taste. 3.5 stars (probably 3 for my taste, but 4 in terms of a recommendation)
October 25, 2021
4.5
War is thought to be over when outside hostilities cease...when planes land, tanks go home and guns are put away. In that growing quiet, in that tentative peace, we work on going back to "normal".
But war has an echo, a human ripple that washes outward for months, years, lifetimes. Ripples seen in the broken who return from the front, and in the collateral damage in those waiting for their return, who experience their own devastating hardships as they pray for the safe return of those they love. Often, there is no Humpty-Dumpty miracle; there are no ways for the broken parts to be put back together...at least not as they were.
"Neither widowed nor orphaned by the war, but still half dead for being alive, for having lost so much. And they, the three of them, these nameless women, have no body over which to weep."
A man, injured and broken who no longer knows his place; a woman who can't find the man who left for the war in the shell that returned; a child who knew only a photograph that bears no resemblance to the being that's entered their midst.
"You'd never find a more beautiful mouth than Toussaint's. And now he's like a puppet forgotten in a corner, a punctured balloon."..."The war burrowed into him and he's still empty because of it."
A haunting story, beautifully told, tucking you into a corner of this tiny home; seeing, smelling, feeling the riptide of broken connections trying to knit themselves together once again.
War is thought to be over when outside hostilities cease...when planes land, tanks go home and guns are put away. In that growing quiet, in that tentative peace, we work on going back to "normal".
But war has an echo, a human ripple that washes outward for months, years, lifetimes. Ripples seen in the broken who return from the front, and in the collateral damage in those waiting for their return, who experience their own devastating hardships as they pray for the safe return of those they love. Often, there is no Humpty-Dumpty miracle; there are no ways for the broken parts to be put back together...at least not as they were.
"Neither widowed nor orphaned by the war, but still half dead for being alive, for having lost so much. And they, the three of them, these nameless women, have no body over which to weep."
A man, injured and broken who no longer knows his place; a woman who can't find the man who left for the war in the shell that returned; a child who knew only a photograph that bears no resemblance to the being that's entered their midst.
"You'd never find a more beautiful mouth than Toussaint's. And now he's like a puppet forgotten in a corner, a punctured balloon."..."The war burrowed into him and he's still empty because of it."
A haunting story, beautifully told, tucking you into a corner of this tiny home; seeing, smelling, feeling the riptide of broken connections trying to knit themselves together once again.
November 22, 2021
With Remembrance Day not long past, it’s been the perfect time to read this story of a family reunited at the close of the First World War. Jeanne Caillet makes paper flowers to adorn ladies’ hats – pinpricks of colour to brighten up harsh winters. Since her husband Toussaint left for the war, it’s been her and their daughter Léonie in their little Paris room. Luckily, Jeanne’s best friend Sidonie, an older seamstress, lives just across the hall. When Toussaint returns in October 1918, it isn’t the rapturous homecoming they expected. He’s been in the facial injuries department at the Val-de-Grâce military hospital, and wrote to Jeanne, “I want you not to come.” He wears a white mask over his face, hasn’t regained the power of speech, and isn’t ready for his wife to see his new appearance. Their journey back to each other is at the heart of the novella, the first of Villeneuve’s works to appear in English.
I loved the chapters that zero in on Jeanne’s handiwork and on Toussaint’s injury and recovery (Lindsey Fitzharris, author of The Butchering Art, is currently writing a book on early plastic surgery; I’ve heard it also plays a major role in Louisa Young’s My Dear, I Wanted to Tell You – both nominated for the Wellcome Book Prize), and the two gorgeous “Word is…” litanies, but found the book as a whole somewhat meandering and quiet. If you’re keen on the time period and have enjoyed novels like Birdsong and The Winter Soldier, it would be a safe bet.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
I loved the chapters that zero in on Jeanne’s handiwork and on Toussaint’s injury and recovery (Lindsey Fitzharris, author of The Butchering Art, is currently writing a book on early plastic surgery; I’ve heard it also plays a major role in Louisa Young’s My Dear, I Wanted to Tell You – both nominated for the Wellcome Book Prize), and the two gorgeous “Word is…” litanies, but found the book as a whole somewhat meandering and quiet. If you’re keen on the time period and have enjoyed novels like Birdsong and The Winter Soldier, it would be a safe bet.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
October 1, 2021
A young woman in Paris 1918 is considered one of the fortunate, her husband returns from war injured. He is not the same man who left. When he was transferred to the hospital specialising in facial injuries he sent her a one sentence note ordering her not to visit.
They have a 3 year old daughter who only knows her father by the portrait of the soldier on the wall of their cramped quarters. She has two fathers, the one who left and the one returned.
Jeanne works from home making artificial flowers, she is trying to be patient and understanding, but her husband's refusal to engage inflames her.
When he finally leaves the room, she follows him. It is not the first time.
Her neighbour Sidonie is a seamstress, she has lost almost everything, yet they have supported each other until now. She is about to be tipped over the edge.
This novel exquisitely renders a situation many lived through and few understood. The silence and destruction of men who survived, who came back traumatised. Who never spoke of what happened. Who may or may not have healed. And the women who stood beside them, who persevered, who sacrificed and learned to live with the reality of what they too had lost.
A lament, a form of consolation, how a family rebuilds itself after an event that has wreaked devastation on them all. Day by day, acknowledging the small wins, with patience, forgiveness, empathy and imagination.
They have a 3 year old daughter who only knows her father by the portrait of the soldier on the wall of their cramped quarters. She has two fathers, the one who left and the one returned.
Jeanne works from home making artificial flowers, she is trying to be patient and understanding, but her husband's refusal to engage inflames her.
When he finally leaves the room, she follows him. It is not the first time.
Her neighbour Sidonie is a seamstress, she has lost almost everything, yet they have supported each other until now. She is about to be tipped over the edge.
This novel exquisitely renders a situation many lived through and few understood. The silence and destruction of men who survived, who came back traumatised. Who never spoke of what happened. Who may or may not have healed. And the women who stood beside them, who persevered, who sacrificed and learned to live with the reality of what they too had lost.
A lament, a form of consolation, how a family rebuilds itself after an event that has wreaked devastation on them all. Day by day, acknowledging the small wins, with patience, forgiveness, empathy and imagination.
Read
May 24, 2021In 1918, Paris is awash with rumours: about the war, about the Spanish flu, and about the lack of food. In shining prose, Villeneuve describes terrible losses, national, familial, and personal, and how one small family must learn to live together again. Affecting, moving, and compelling.
August 30, 2021
The War at Home
Review of the Peirene Press paperback edition (October 2021) translated from the French language original Les Fleurs d'hiver (2014)
Winter Flowers is instead about Jeanne, the wife of the veteran Toussaint who has returned home at last just a month before the eventual armistice of World War One on November 11, 1918. Toussaint has returned not from the war front, but from an extended stay at Val-de-Grâce, where his shrapnel shredded face has been repaired as best as possible with the medical procedures of the time.
Jeanne has prepared herself as best as she could for the return, after being told not to visit the hospital by a short message from her husband. Toussaint's father did make the journey however and reported his horrified reactions to the various disfigured men recuperating on the hospital wards. Even then, she is not prepared for the masked and silent figure that re-enters her and her young daughter's lives who will not speak a word and only communicates with a single handwritten note to say "Not yet."
Villeneuve builds an affecting story here about how a family has to fight in order to return order and love in their lives after the shattering experience of war and disfigurement. Jeanne's paper flower making job acts as a metaphor for the journey, the construction and preservation of something of beauty out of something as ephemeral as pieces of paper. The family's experience is contrasted with their neighbour Sidonie, who has lost her entire family to tuberculosis and her final son to the war.
I found the reading of Winter Flowers to be a very moving immersive experience which expanded considerably on the world first introduced to me by Dugain's earlier novel. Jeanne's internal rationalizations, fantasies and reactions were built up effectively against the silence of Toussaint as he very slowly and gradually makes his journey home to his family, even though it was several weeks after his actual physical return. I was happy to have this introduction to Angélique Villeneuve's writing in this first English translation of her work. The author has a dozen other books to her credit according to GR's bibliography.
I read Winter Flowers in advance of its official publication in October 2021 due to my annual subscription to Peirene Press. Subscribers receive the publisher's books several weeks ahead of their official release date. Winter Flowers is the third of Peirene's Metamorphoses series for 2021.
Trivia and Links
Peirene Press will likely have an online book launch in the next several weeks for Winter Flowers and you can watch for it at their news page here.
Review of the Peirene Press paperback edition (October 2021) translated from the French language original Les Fleurs d'hiver (2014)
Like all women whose husbands or sons had been mobilized, though, she'd heard countless stories about men's homecomings. Poor women. Those who entrusted a sheep to their country were given back a lion. Someone who'd set out as a young lad was said to have come home an old man, or mad.I'll confess that when I first read the synopsis blurb for Winter Flowers from its English language publisher Peirene Press, I thought that it was going to be repetition of La chambre des officiers (1998) by Marc Dugain (translated as The Officers' Ward (2000)) which I had read in my pre-GR days. It appeared that both books were built around that department of the French Val-de-Grâce hospital which dealt with facial reconstruction surgery for wounded veterans of World War One. I was wrong in that early assessment however.
And there were so many, Jeanne was well aware, who would never come home at all. - excerpt from pg. 43.
Winter Flowers is instead about Jeanne, the wife of the veteran Toussaint who has returned home at last just a month before the eventual armistice of World War One on November 11, 1918. Toussaint has returned not from the war front, but from an extended stay at Val-de-Grâce, where his shrapnel shredded face has been repaired as best as possible with the medical procedures of the time.
Jeanne has prepared herself as best as she could for the return, after being told not to visit the hospital by a short message from her husband. Toussaint's father did make the journey however and reported his horrified reactions to the various disfigured men recuperating on the hospital wards. Even then, she is not prepared for the masked and silent figure that re-enters her and her young daughter's lives who will not speak a word and only communicates with a single handwritten note to say "Not yet."
Villeneuve builds an affecting story here about how a family has to fight in order to return order and love in their lives after the shattering experience of war and disfigurement. Jeanne's paper flower making job acts as a metaphor for the journey, the construction and preservation of something of beauty out of something as ephemeral as pieces of paper. The family's experience is contrasted with their neighbour Sidonie, who has lost her entire family to tuberculosis and her final son to the war.
I found the reading of Winter Flowers to be a very moving immersive experience which expanded considerably on the world first introduced to me by Dugain's earlier novel. Jeanne's internal rationalizations, fantasies and reactions were built up effectively against the silence of Toussaint as he very slowly and gradually makes his journey home to his family, even though it was several weeks after his actual physical return. I was happy to have this introduction to Angélique Villeneuve's writing in this first English translation of her work. The author has a dozen other books to her credit according to GR's bibliography.
I read Winter Flowers in advance of its official publication in October 2021 due to my annual subscription to Peirene Press. Subscribers receive the publisher's books several weeks ahead of their official release date. Winter Flowers is the third of Peirene's Metamorphoses series for 2021.
Trivia and Links
Peirene Press will likely have an online book launch in the next several weeks for Winter Flowers and you can watch for it at their news page here.
November 22, 2021
Peirene Press has been one of my favourite publishing houses since its inception, and whilst I sadly don’t manage to catch all of their new releases any more, I still very much look forward to reading them at some point. I particularly love the French literature which they have translated and published for the first time to an English-speaking audience, and was thus eager to get my hands on a copy of Angélique Villeneuve’s Winter Flowers.
Translated by Adriana Hunter, Winter Flowers begins in the October of 1918, when the First World War has almost reached its end. Toussaint Caillet is returning home to his small apartment in Paris, to his wife, Jeanne, and young daughter, Léonie, who does not know him. He has been recovering at the Val-de-Grâce Military Hospital for many months, following a traumatic facial injury. For Jeanne, left alone for so long, Toussaint’s return ‘marks the beginning of a new battle: with the promise of peace now in sight, the family must try to stitch together a new life from the tatters of what they once had.’
Jeanne is a ‘flower-maker’, often working for hours after dark to create exquisite flowers from nasty chemicals. Her position is an incredibly difficult one; along with her poorly paid employment, she has to ensure that Léonie is fed, and is taken to school, as well as the usual chores to keep the apartment running. The pair are at the mercy of others who live in their poorly heated building: ‘The room is filled with flickering lamplight that seems to mirror Léo’s never-ending sing-song, and the smell of boiled and reboiled stew slowly rises, catching at Jeanne’s nostrils and numbing her fingers.’
When Toussaint returns home, without warning, Jeanne knows at once that he is a changed man. He is wearing a magnetic plate over his facial injury, which he never removes. He sits ‘utterly still. After the warped wooden stairs, it’s now his whole body, his nocturnal presence, that creaks as he grimaces in a silence streaked with blue light.’ Villeneuve captures the couple’s reunion with such a depth of emotion, describing it thus: ‘At first Jeanne stays rooted to her chair, entirely consumed with watching him and avoiding him. She knows what she should see, though, where she should look, but it bounces about, slips away from her. What she does grasp is that he’s taller, and handsome in his uniform, and unfamiliar too.’
Jeanne has a wealth of varying emotions, some of them conflicting. She feels lonelier when Toussaint returns than she did when he was away. Part of her feels as though he is interrupting her quiet existence with Léonie, altering the relationship between mother and daughter. Toussaint is always present, always the observer: ‘And if the man ever keeps his eyes open, he’s busy watching them from afar, her or Léo… This daughter he hasn’t seen grow up, he watches her too, with miraculous, disturbing patience… Toussaint is always there, watching or sleeping.’ The lines of communication within the family are stretched and strained; Toussaint is ‘… just there, shut down, shut away.’
Villeneuve captures a great deal in her prose. On the very first page, for instance, she writes: ‘Jeanne’s hands are dulled with work, her back is stiff. And as she closes her eyes, and relaxes her head and shoulders, all her in-held breath comes out at once in a hoarse cry that would leave anyone who heard it struggling to say whether it expressed pleasure or pain.’ I enjoyed the philosophical element which sometimes creeps into the prose; for instance: ‘What exactly was a war? An enormous grey mass, intangible and impossible. Incomprehensible.’
This novella is set during the Spanish ‘Flu pandemic. I always find this a strange parallel at present, to read about an awful, deadly disease of the past, whilst the world of the present suffers through the same thing. There is, of course, a lot of trauma here; not just from the First World War, and all of those around them who have been lost, but also the fallout from the pandemic. Villeneuve masterfully captures everything. She makes excellent use of period detail, and pays attention to everything. Movement and emotion have also been wonderfully portrayed throughout. There is tenderness and empathy within Winter Flowers, balanced with the realism of the couple’s relationship, Léonie’s jealousy at having to share her mother, and the still raging war. As Villeneuve writes: ‘The war can strike in other ways. The war can rob people of speech.’
Villeneuve is the author of eight books to date, and Winter Flowers is the first to be translated into English. This novel is beautiful, contemplative, and heartachingly tender, and demonstrates throughout the fragility of life. I savoured every single word. Winter Flowers has very deservedly won four literary prizes in France since its publication in 2014. I have a feeling that there will be many more treats in store with Villeneuve’s books, and can only hope that they are translated into English, and soon.
Translated by Adriana Hunter, Winter Flowers begins in the October of 1918, when the First World War has almost reached its end. Toussaint Caillet is returning home to his small apartment in Paris, to his wife, Jeanne, and young daughter, Léonie, who does not know him. He has been recovering at the Val-de-Grâce Military Hospital for many months, following a traumatic facial injury. For Jeanne, left alone for so long, Toussaint’s return ‘marks the beginning of a new battle: with the promise of peace now in sight, the family must try to stitch together a new life from the tatters of what they once had.’
Jeanne is a ‘flower-maker’, often working for hours after dark to create exquisite flowers from nasty chemicals. Her position is an incredibly difficult one; along with her poorly paid employment, she has to ensure that Léonie is fed, and is taken to school, as well as the usual chores to keep the apartment running. The pair are at the mercy of others who live in their poorly heated building: ‘The room is filled with flickering lamplight that seems to mirror Léo’s never-ending sing-song, and the smell of boiled and reboiled stew slowly rises, catching at Jeanne’s nostrils and numbing her fingers.’
When Toussaint returns home, without warning, Jeanne knows at once that he is a changed man. He is wearing a magnetic plate over his facial injury, which he never removes. He sits ‘utterly still. After the warped wooden stairs, it’s now his whole body, his nocturnal presence, that creaks as he grimaces in a silence streaked with blue light.’ Villeneuve captures the couple’s reunion with such a depth of emotion, describing it thus: ‘At first Jeanne stays rooted to her chair, entirely consumed with watching him and avoiding him. She knows what she should see, though, where she should look, but it bounces about, slips away from her. What she does grasp is that he’s taller, and handsome in his uniform, and unfamiliar too.’
Jeanne has a wealth of varying emotions, some of them conflicting. She feels lonelier when Toussaint returns than she did when he was away. Part of her feels as though he is interrupting her quiet existence with Léonie, altering the relationship between mother and daughter. Toussaint is always present, always the observer: ‘And if the man ever keeps his eyes open, he’s busy watching them from afar, her or Léo… This daughter he hasn’t seen grow up, he watches her too, with miraculous, disturbing patience… Toussaint is always there, watching or sleeping.’ The lines of communication within the family are stretched and strained; Toussaint is ‘… just there, shut down, shut away.’
Villeneuve captures a great deal in her prose. On the very first page, for instance, she writes: ‘Jeanne’s hands are dulled with work, her back is stiff. And as she closes her eyes, and relaxes her head and shoulders, all her in-held breath comes out at once in a hoarse cry that would leave anyone who heard it struggling to say whether it expressed pleasure or pain.’ I enjoyed the philosophical element which sometimes creeps into the prose; for instance: ‘What exactly was a war? An enormous grey mass, intangible and impossible. Incomprehensible.’
This novella is set during the Spanish ‘Flu pandemic. I always find this a strange parallel at present, to read about an awful, deadly disease of the past, whilst the world of the present suffers through the same thing. There is, of course, a lot of trauma here; not just from the First World War, and all of those around them who have been lost, but also the fallout from the pandemic. Villeneuve masterfully captures everything. She makes excellent use of period detail, and pays attention to everything. Movement and emotion have also been wonderfully portrayed throughout. There is tenderness and empathy within Winter Flowers, balanced with the realism of the couple’s relationship, Léonie’s jealousy at having to share her mother, and the still raging war. As Villeneuve writes: ‘The war can strike in other ways. The war can rob people of speech.’
Villeneuve is the author of eight books to date, and Winter Flowers is the first to be translated into English. This novel is beautiful, contemplative, and heartachingly tender, and demonstrates throughout the fragility of life. I savoured every single word. Winter Flowers has very deservedly won four literary prizes in France since its publication in 2014. I have a feeling that there will be many more treats in store with Villeneuve’s books, and can only hope that they are translated into English, and soon.
November 11, 2021
Meticulously researched, Villeneuve describes the brutal emotional consequences of war. In her gorgeous writing she conveys the couple’s silences and communicates the inexpressible. Anyone going through a hard time will take comfort in this family’s journey from estrangement to connection.
July 27, 2025
The language of the skin and of silence. Families shattered, the shrapnel of war. The struggle to find some reasoning again.
The consent, so often addressed to women, this time to men. The male body is not a machine after all. The need for tenderness and compassion when understanding is not possible. The ability to surrender to time (the healer of all wounds?!)
The consent, so often addressed to women, this time to men. The male body is not a machine after all. The need for tenderness and compassion when understanding is not possible. The ability to surrender to time (the healer of all wounds?!)
October 13, 2021
I absolutely enjoyed this book and I think it’s getting me out of my slowly encroaching reading slump!
I love translated fiction, and I have a few titles from Peirene Press that I need to read, and this is wonderful to have in my collection ❤️
Jeanne was such a treasure to read, her thoughts and feelings about her husband returning from work wounded stirred up so many emotions and thoughts that needed to be addressed. This was beautiful - and I love hearing about other viewpoints of WW1 so it was a nice change to hear about Jeanne. War is harrowing, traumatic, and the effects of this go far further than the soldiers. It effects the wives, children, parents that are left behind and their grief normally happens behind closed doors. Sidonie is another character that is hurting and experiencing this.
Highly recommend this book without a doubt and I encourage everybody to read this.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ five star read!
I love translated fiction, and I have a few titles from Peirene Press that I need to read, and this is wonderful to have in my collection ❤️
Jeanne was such a treasure to read, her thoughts and feelings about her husband returning from work wounded stirred up so many emotions and thoughts that needed to be addressed. This was beautiful - and I love hearing about other viewpoints of WW1 so it was a nice change to hear about Jeanne. War is harrowing, traumatic, and the effects of this go far further than the soldiers. It effects the wives, children, parents that are left behind and their grief normally happens behind closed doors. Sidonie is another character that is hurting and experiencing this.
Highly recommend this book without a doubt and I encourage everybody to read this.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ five star read!
January 5, 2023
I admire a quiet novel that allows emotional significance to arise from the facts of history rather than dramatic or showy events. “Winter Flowers” is set directly after WWI in late 1918 when soldier Toussaint returns to his wife Jeanne and daughter Leonie in Paris. He's been away for years and has been wounded and facially disfigured in battle. Though his much anticipated return is welcome, everyone has been heavily changed by the war, disease and poverty. The majority of the story takes place in the confined quarters of their humble abode where Jeanne spends exhaustive hours painstakingly shaping fake flowers to adorn women's attire in upscale boutiques. This family must slowly readjust to each others' presence. Their interactions are often awkward and Jeanne must guess at the thoughts of the often silent Toussaint. It's a meditative experience following this family as they readjust to each other, grapple with grief and accept what's been lost. It also presents a focused portrait of the state of a country which has been traumatised by war.
Read my full review of Winter Flowers by Angelique Villeneuve at LonesomeReader
Read my full review of Winter Flowers by Angelique Villeneuve at LonesomeReader
November 11, 2021
Astonishingly good.
October 12, 2021
Winter Flowers by Angélique Villeneuve, translated by Adriana Hunter.
’𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑓 𝑇𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑, 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑙, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑤, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ. 𝐴 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑢𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑛’𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘. 𝐴𝑏𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒’
This book is exquisite. The prose, the translated prose are almost flawless.
A story that beautifully conveys the devastation that is reeked in war; the waste of human life, the sacrifice, the senseless destruction all permeate each and every page. At the heart of this astounding narrative are the lives of a small family, a family reunited, but a family changed forever. A family who have the chance to begin again but without a clue as to how…
How to rebuild a relationship when words are not possible, how to show the one that you love that there is a way forward, how to find the soul that you loved, through a deathly wall of silence….
This is one of the most compelling stories of WWI that I have ever read, it’s insight and haunting eloquence paint the most deeply affecting picture of Paris as the war comes to an end.
’𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑓 𝑇𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑, 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑙, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑤, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ. 𝐴 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑢𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑛’𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘. 𝐴𝑏𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒’
This book is exquisite. The prose, the translated prose are almost flawless.
A story that beautifully conveys the devastation that is reeked in war; the waste of human life, the sacrifice, the senseless destruction all permeate each and every page. At the heart of this astounding narrative are the lives of a small family, a family reunited, but a family changed forever. A family who have the chance to begin again but without a clue as to how…
How to rebuild a relationship when words are not possible, how to show the one that you love that there is a way forward, how to find the soul that you loved, through a deathly wall of silence….
This is one of the most compelling stories of WWI that I have ever read, it’s insight and haunting eloquence paint the most deeply affecting picture of Paris as the war comes to an end.
November 26, 2023
This beautifully written novel (read in the original) opens a window to the damage and destruction of war that reaches way beyond the return of those considered lucky to have survived. War does not only take the dead, it also deeply impacts the survivors and their families.
Toussaint is one of these survivors and his return home is not the end. For him, for his wife Jeanne and for their young daughter, his return marks the beginning of a new campaign. It has no strategies, no generals, no flags and no set of rules to follow. And it's a lonely battle for a family to wage on its own, with no help whatsoever.
This new and seemingly endless war is waged between the claustrophobic walls of the Caillet family's meagre home, with minor battles raging on throughout their ordeal, against the cold, against poverty, disease, the fatigue of working endless hours just to put food on the table, and against a constant pall of despair.
Toussaint is badly wounded in body and spirit, and he is silent. Jeanne is unable to reach him; she barely recognizes this man that has returned from the war. Where once they used to be as one, she is now left out. And then there is, for Jeanne, a defining moment of insight: she realizes that even if he were to speak, even if he were to describe to her the details of what he has been through, there is a space that she will forever be unable to penetrate.
Difficult as this understanding is, it is also a beginning, a ground zero from which they will have to set out to try and find their path, not their old one, it is no longer applicable, but a different one.
In less than 150 pages this heartbreaking novel is a somber but compelling read.
Toussaint is one of these survivors and his return home is not the end. For him, for his wife Jeanne and for their young daughter, his return marks the beginning of a new campaign. It has no strategies, no generals, no flags and no set of rules to follow. And it's a lonely battle for a family to wage on its own, with no help whatsoever.
This new and seemingly endless war is waged between the claustrophobic walls of the Caillet family's meagre home, with minor battles raging on throughout their ordeal, against the cold, against poverty, disease, the fatigue of working endless hours just to put food on the table, and against a constant pall of despair.
Toussaint is badly wounded in body and spirit, and he is silent. Jeanne is unable to reach him; she barely recognizes this man that has returned from the war. Where once they used to be as one, she is now left out. And then there is, for Jeanne, a defining moment of insight: she realizes that even if he were to speak, even if he were to describe to her the details of what he has been through, there is a space that she will forever be unable to penetrate.
Difficult as this understanding is, it is also a beginning, a ground zero from which they will have to set out to try and find their path, not their old one, it is no longer applicable, but a different one.
In less than 150 pages this heartbreaking novel is a somber but compelling read.
December 17, 2022
what an incredible book. winter flowers is aptly named for a book about the first world war told through a perspective of a woman, a wife and a mother. the writing itself felt wintry, blatantly honest and even a little bleak. there was a sense of hopelessness, of not knowing whether people would survive the war, if people would ever recover from it physically and mentally. it was emotionally taxing to read such paragraphs, and i believe that’s because the atmosphere of the book was so well written and the characters felt real.
i am someone who always imagines flowers to be lovely, bright and full of life, and yet the flowers described in this book felt artificial and still, something to hold on to, some element of light in the cold cold winter of doubt and uncertainty. and it was scary. for once, flowers were not a source of existence but of a false life, a pretend life, as if the lives themselves were stilted and we are all waiting for normality to seep back in like the cold.
i definitely recommend this book, and reading it of course during then winter made it even more immersive.
4/5 ⭐️
i am someone who always imagines flowers to be lovely, bright and full of life, and yet the flowers described in this book felt artificial and still, something to hold on to, some element of light in the cold cold winter of doubt and uncertainty. and it was scary. for once, flowers were not a source of existence but of a false life, a pretend life, as if the lives themselves were stilted and we are all waiting for normality to seep back in like the cold.
i definitely recommend this book, and reading it of course during then winter made it even more immersive.
4/5 ⭐️
October 18, 2021
Who is more unknown than the Unknown Soldier? The unknown soldier's wife. This is her story, a tale of what happens away from the front, after the fighting and the wounding is done. It's hard, really hard, and - although the book ends on Armistice Day - it's clear that the struggle will continue for years beyond the War. Yet, harsh as this story is, there's an awareness that many are harsher: not least the seamstress in the next apartment who has lost two husbands and five sons to tuberculosis and the war.
This is a book of hunger, cold, smells of food that's past its best, and thick, heavy air. It unfurls slowly and unpredictably, like a big sigh being exhaled with the droplets of moisture billowing as they dissipate.
I'm looking forward to discussing it at the Borderless Book Club later this week https://borderlessbookclub.com/programme
This is a book of hunger, cold, smells of food that's past its best, and thick, heavy air. It unfurls slowly and unpredictably, like a big sigh being exhaled with the droplets of moisture billowing as they dissipate.
I'm looking forward to discussing it at the Borderless Book Club later this week https://borderlessbookclub.com/programme
November 4, 2021
A stunning story , excellently written. It's the end of WW1 and Touisant is returning from a military hospital for soldiers with facial injures. His wife and daughter are living in harsh conditions beautifully described by the author but it is her husband's return that poses the biggest challenge to them. A wonderful read.
October 23, 2021
Short novel set in WW1 PARIS
Winter Flowers is set in the tail end of the war years, when everything was still very much a struggle – for those on the battle lines and differently for those valiantly struggling to keep body and soul together at home. Jeanne and Toussaint are a couple but Toussaint has been summoned to face the ‘boche’ whilst Jeanne remains at home looking after their small child Léo.
Jeanne continues with her art of creating decorative flowers that will be used by milliners and the like. Her cheeseparing is down to a fine art but she manages, as do her neighbours and acquaintances. There is no choice. She hears that Toussaint is wounded, his face has been badly damaged and consequently he does not want to see her during his recuperation at Val-de Grâce. He has to wear a facial prosthetic to cover what is left of his features. She feels it as a rejection but he is protecting her from the horrors of his wounds.
This is their story of how they learn to adjust, how Jeanne has to find a way of co-existing with a man who is very changed in looks and by his experience of war. Toussaint, upon his return, has to find a way to re-integrate into normal life and find a new and different role within the family and within society. And as they learn to co-exist the spread of Spanish Flu is starting to be felt.
The story really brings to life the horrific and personal consequences of war. This is an affecting story of a couple, as the partners transition and discover a different kind of familiarity.
Winter Flowers is set in the tail end of the war years, when everything was still very much a struggle – for those on the battle lines and differently for those valiantly struggling to keep body and soul together at home. Jeanne and Toussaint are a couple but Toussaint has been summoned to face the ‘boche’ whilst Jeanne remains at home looking after their small child Léo.
Jeanne continues with her art of creating decorative flowers that will be used by milliners and the like. Her cheeseparing is down to a fine art but she manages, as do her neighbours and acquaintances. There is no choice. She hears that Toussaint is wounded, his face has been badly damaged and consequently he does not want to see her during his recuperation at Val-de Grâce. He has to wear a facial prosthetic to cover what is left of his features. She feels it as a rejection but he is protecting her from the horrors of his wounds.
This is their story of how they learn to adjust, how Jeanne has to find a way of co-existing with a man who is very changed in looks and by his experience of war. Toussaint, upon his return, has to find a way to re-integrate into normal life and find a new and different role within the family and within society. And as they learn to co-exist the spread of Spanish Flu is starting to be felt.
The story really brings to life the horrific and personal consequences of war. This is an affecting story of a couple, as the partners transition and discover a different kind of familiarity.
January 11, 2023
Early contender for one of my books of 2023!! That's the effect this book has had on me! It's quiet but extremely powerful in the subject matter, and the exploration of how the impact of war continues long after the war has ended.
It looks at a family where the husband has been away fighting, and the wife has been left back home to raise their child not knowing what is happening on the front line, and trying her best to deal with the consequences. When her husband returns home, she's ecstatic to have him back but instantly sees he's not the same man that left and coping with that change in personality is tough for them all.
You sense the husband, Touissant, has been through the extremes and finds it very difficult to go back to 'normal' life. But he won't share with his wife what he's been through - whether to protect them or himself - and it is just brilliantly written and explored through their interactions and the reactions of others the full impact.
The wife, Jeanne, has done all she can over the time he's been away to protect her child, to keep normality in their life and she longed for, and dreaded, his return. Must be so harrowing to watch someone you love almost shutting themselves off from you and your life in a form of self preservation. The emotional toll on the whole family is harrowing and as you discover more about his life and experiences during the war, your heart just breaks - for them all.
A stunning book which is short in length but will stay long in the mind.
It looks at a family where the husband has been away fighting, and the wife has been left back home to raise their child not knowing what is happening on the front line, and trying her best to deal with the consequences. When her husband returns home, she's ecstatic to have him back but instantly sees he's not the same man that left and coping with that change in personality is tough for them all.
You sense the husband, Touissant, has been through the extremes and finds it very difficult to go back to 'normal' life. But he won't share with his wife what he's been through - whether to protect them or himself - and it is just brilliantly written and explored through their interactions and the reactions of others the full impact.
The wife, Jeanne, has done all she can over the time he's been away to protect her child, to keep normality in their life and she longed for, and dreaded, his return. Must be so harrowing to watch someone you love almost shutting themselves off from you and your life in a form of self preservation. The emotional toll on the whole family is harrowing and as you discover more about his life and experiences during the war, your heart just breaks - for them all.
A stunning book which is short in length but will stay long in the mind.
April 16, 2022
All i can think of is the song "If you see him on the streets, walking by her side, talking by her side, have pity, they're going through the unimaginable". My focus is a quite low, so mostly I only read through these mesmerizing sentences. They really are "shining prose". The idea and image of the titular winter flowers as the busiest but most lucrative work for a flower-maker is etched on my mind now. Along with the song. I need to read this again, with undividing attention, a dictionary, and a pencil to underline those sentences that stopped me on my mindless tracks. Like hearing a beautiful language, it sounds delicious, but I don't know the taste and what it says.
But it may also be a little "too sentimental for my taste" like another reviewer said.
Having confessed that, I'm now thinking maybe it's my never experiencing war, I know I related and "equivalented" the story to my own, but I feel this is bigger than my taste and opinions as consumer of a story. I'm thinking now how do I note all that I think and feel without relying on that? It may be impossible. What am I saying? But yeah... there's something about this story that doesn't click with me.
Maybe something about Jeanne, the narrator? The way she takes on everything through the end. Sometimes it feels like it/she pays lesser attention to the efforts of others in healing and working on themselves. Yes. Maybe this. I was just afraid to say. She intimidates me kinda.
But it may also be a little "too sentimental for my taste" like another reviewer said.
Having confessed that, I'm now thinking maybe it's my never experiencing war, I know I related and "equivalented" the story to my own, but I feel this is bigger than my taste and opinions as consumer of a story. I'm thinking now how do I note all that I think and feel without relying on that? It may be impossible. What am I saying? But yeah... there's something about this story that doesn't click with me.
Maybe something about Jeanne, the narrator? The way she takes on everything through the end. Sometimes it feels like it/she pays lesser attention to the efforts of others in healing and working on themselves. Yes. Maybe this. I was just afraid to say. She intimidates me kinda.
October 19, 2021
France 1918. The war is finally draw to a close and Touissant Caillet, after spending the last two years in the department for facial injuries at Val-De-Grâce military hospital is finally home. Jeanne soon realises that he is just the shell of the man she used to know, and that the war has undeniably changed him.
In a book that explores the hardships and traumas of the war, the prose is poetical and the translation flawless. In this book the grief, loss, struggle and uncertainty that surrounded the war is tangible and almost bring you to the brink of tears.
The soldier had to witness the cruelty and devastation of a war, while the women had to try and provide for the kids and ensure they could survive another day.
My heart broke when reading about how much Sidonie has lost, and soon I found myself imagining what all this courageous women and men at the time had to sacrifice.
Definitely pick this book up if you enjoy reading historical fictions set in WWII, this book can be easily read in a day or couple of hours, I got slightly distracted by my dog and family here back in Italy. 😅
In a book that explores the hardships and traumas of the war, the prose is poetical and the translation flawless. In this book the grief, loss, struggle and uncertainty that surrounded the war is tangible and almost bring you to the brink of tears.
The soldier had to witness the cruelty and devastation of a war, while the women had to try and provide for the kids and ensure they could survive another day.
My heart broke when reading about how much Sidonie has lost, and soon I found myself imagining what all this courageous women and men at the time had to sacrifice.
Definitely pick this book up if you enjoy reading historical fictions set in WWII, this book can be easily read in a day or couple of hours, I got slightly distracted by my dog and family here back in Italy. 😅
October 28, 2021
A slow burner, but oh so beautiful. Translated from the French original, this short read transports the reader back to France October 1918, just as the war is coming to an end.
This ending brings about much more than just the end of war. Not only the hardships experienced but also the physical and mental horrors of war. Trousaint and Jeanne are one such couple who have had their lives inexplicably changed.
Toussaint for the last 2 years has been in a military hospital after suffering severe facial injuries and he is now being discharged to return home to his wife and child. He has not seen either for 2 years, and he is no longer the man he once was when he left Jeanne to go to war.
He is unable to verbally communicate and constantly ears a mask to cover his disfigurement. Somehow Jeanne, Toussaint and their daughter must learn how to adjust.
As a lover of historical fiction this has been a read from a very different view point. One of change, adjustment and mourning the loss of what was once possibly known and taken for granted. Although heartbreaking, it's beautiful.
This ending brings about much more than just the end of war. Not only the hardships experienced but also the physical and mental horrors of war. Trousaint and Jeanne are one such couple who have had their lives inexplicably changed.
Toussaint for the last 2 years has been in a military hospital after suffering severe facial injuries and he is now being discharged to return home to his wife and child. He has not seen either for 2 years, and he is no longer the man he once was when he left Jeanne to go to war.
He is unable to verbally communicate and constantly ears a mask to cover his disfigurement. Somehow Jeanne, Toussaint and their daughter must learn how to adjust.
As a lover of historical fiction this has been a read from a very different view point. One of change, adjustment and mourning the loss of what was once possibly known and taken for granted. Although heartbreaking, it's beautiful.
December 30, 2021
Winter Flowers by Angélique Villeneuve, translated by Adriana Hunter is a quiet, intimate yet powerful portrait of trauma and renewal. At it’s heart is a stirring love story that captures a depth of emotion and leaves a lasting impact.
This novella is set in 1918, and portrays the reunion of a couple; the husband, returning from war with severe facial injuries and his wife who has scraped by, creating flower ornaments to stitch onto hats. His spirit is broken, and her exhaustion and anxiety about making ends meet are palpable. I loved the nuanced characterisation and the author’s wonderful way in conveying the strength of their ineffable feeling.
Whilst we are living in very different times, the parallels between the global tragedies of war and our pandemic are there: the devastating loss, trauma and deepening social divisions. However, this is ultimately a hopeful story and I highly recommend it.
4.5/5 🌟
Thank you Peirene Press for the PR review copy in exchange for an honest opinion
This novella is set in 1918, and portrays the reunion of a couple; the husband, returning from war with severe facial injuries and his wife who has scraped by, creating flower ornaments to stitch onto hats. His spirit is broken, and her exhaustion and anxiety about making ends meet are palpable. I loved the nuanced characterisation and the author’s wonderful way in conveying the strength of their ineffable feeling.
Whilst we are living in very different times, the parallels between the global tragedies of war and our pandemic are there: the devastating loss, trauma and deepening social divisions. However, this is ultimately a hopeful story and I highly recommend it.
4.5/5 🌟
Thank you Peirene Press for the PR review copy in exchange for an honest opinion
August 26, 2024
Winter Flowers by Angélique Villeneuve (translated by Adriana Hunter), is a poignant novel exploring the challenges faced in the aftermath of World War I.
The story follows Toussaint as he returns home to Paris after spending years in a military hospital due to severe facial injuries sustained in battle. His long-awaited return to his wife Jeanne and daughter Léonie is marked by profound challenges as the family navigates the emotional and physical scars left by the war.
The novel’s narrative is understated yet powerful, unfolding primarily within the confines of the family’s modest flat. Jeanne painstakingly crafts artificial flowers to support her family, a detail that underscores the economic hardships of the time. The interactions between Toussaint and Jeanne are laden with silence and unspoken tension, vividly portraying the deep emotional and mental impact of the war.
Villeneuve’s writing possesses a poetic quality, reflecting meticulous research and a deep understanding of the brutal emotional consequences of war. The novel explores themes of grief, loss, and the struggle to reconnect—not only between husband and wife but also with the children left behind. It touches on the broader societal impacts of the war, depicting a community grappling with uncertainty and change.
For a short novel, the story progresses at a slow pace, which seems to be a deliberate choice by the author to convey the heavy, lingering atmosphere of post-war life. The experience of reading this was emotionally draining, which may be precisely the author’s intention.
Overall, Winter Flowers is a compelling and moving portrayal of a family’s attempt to rebuild their lives amidst the lingering shadows of war.
The story follows Toussaint as he returns home to Paris after spending years in a military hospital due to severe facial injuries sustained in battle. His long-awaited return to his wife Jeanne and daughter Léonie is marked by profound challenges as the family navigates the emotional and physical scars left by the war.
The novel’s narrative is understated yet powerful, unfolding primarily within the confines of the family’s modest flat. Jeanne painstakingly crafts artificial flowers to support her family, a detail that underscores the economic hardships of the time. The interactions between Toussaint and Jeanne are laden with silence and unspoken tension, vividly portraying the deep emotional and mental impact of the war.
Villeneuve’s writing possesses a poetic quality, reflecting meticulous research and a deep understanding of the brutal emotional consequences of war. The novel explores themes of grief, loss, and the struggle to reconnect—not only between husband and wife but also with the children left behind. It touches on the broader societal impacts of the war, depicting a community grappling with uncertainty and change.
For a short novel, the story progresses at a slow pace, which seems to be a deliberate choice by the author to convey the heavy, lingering atmosphere of post-war life. The experience of reading this was emotionally draining, which may be precisely the author’s intention.
Overall, Winter Flowers is a compelling and moving portrayal of a family’s attempt to rebuild their lives amidst the lingering shadows of war.
December 28, 2021
A hard book to rate as it's unlike anything I have read before, the underlying theme is of resettlement and silence. Set in First World War Paris, we start with the life of Jeanne and her daughter Léo getting on with their life, the routine is disturbed by the return of Toussaint after being treated for injuries in the battlefield. Angélique Villeneuve writing beautifully illustrates the tension of silence, of a family trying to come back together after their own personal battles caused by the war. 3stars seems unfair but for a short story it felt very slow - probably deliberate to emphasise the tension between the characters trying to come together
July 24, 2022
So incredibly moving. This compelling novella shows grief, loss, love, family, friendship from the perspective of one small family in Paris. Even though it focuses on the few, it shows how these feelings and events touch everyone. Even the alone are connected through these shared emotions.
Although I have read other books set during the war, this is the first from the perspective of a French family, and also about the soldiers who suffered facial disfigurement. It manages to explore so much, and get such a depth of feeling in a small amount of pages.
This book will stick with me. I recommend it.
Although I have read other books set during the war, this is the first from the perspective of a French family, and also about the soldiers who suffered facial disfigurement. It manages to explore so much, and get such a depth of feeling in a small amount of pages.
This book will stick with me. I recommend it.
January 18, 2024
Peirene Novella Series heeft dit werk in Engelse vertaling (Winter Flowers) gepubliceerd, maar ik verkoos uiteraard de originele Franse versie te lezen.
Ik was aanvankelijk terughoudend omdat ik dacht: Alweer een boek over de Eerste Wereldoorlog. Maar mijn terughoudendheid bleek al vlug totaal onterecht. Dit is een zeer goed geschreven gevoelvol werk over gezinsrelaties in moeilijke sociale omstandigheden.
Angélique Villeneuve schrijft vlot, met een rijke woordenschat, zonder ingewikkelde zinstructuren of taalkundige hoogstandjes.
Les Fleurs d'hiver is een mooi boek en ik overweeg om ook de andere werken van Angélique Villeneuve te lezen.
Ik was aanvankelijk terughoudend omdat ik dacht: Alweer een boek over de Eerste Wereldoorlog. Maar mijn terughoudendheid bleek al vlug totaal onterecht. Dit is een zeer goed geschreven gevoelvol werk over gezinsrelaties in moeilijke sociale omstandigheden.
Angélique Villeneuve schrijft vlot, met een rijke woordenschat, zonder ingewikkelde zinstructuren of taalkundige hoogstandjes.
Les Fleurs d'hiver is een mooi boek en ik overweeg om ook de andere werken van Angélique Villeneuve te lezen.
July 15, 2025
A brilliant, quietly powerful novel that blooms. Juxtaposing the experiences of men and women during war—citizens and leaders, gossip and propaganda—it offers an intimate portrait of a marriage shaped by conflict. This is a romance that’s less escape than defense: a woman shielding her husband from having his story overwritten by victory, bureaucracy, or others’ need to make sense of suffering. Erotic tenderness becomes protection—an act of resistance.
A haunting contribution to war literature, it hovers in the gray space between homecoming and disappearance. The personal is political, rendered as delicately as the paper flowers she never stops making.
A haunting contribution to war literature, it hovers in the gray space between homecoming and disappearance. The personal is political, rendered as delicately as the paper flowers she never stops making.
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