Il vecchio incendio

by Elisa Shua Dusapin

Dopo quindici anni di lontananza, Agathe torna in Francia per aiutare la sorella minore Véra a svuotare la casa di famiglia nella campagna del Périgord. Le pietre antiche delle sue mura serviranno a restaurare la piccionaia di un castello vicino, distrutta da un antico incendio. Véra è molto l’afasia che l’ha colpita da bambina c’è ancora ma oggi è comunque una donna indipendente, che si è presa cura del padre fino alla sua morte e che comunica senza difficoltà tramite lo schermo del suo smartphone. Tra le due sorelle non c’è (e forse non c’è mai stata) intimità, nessuna delle due conosce davvero l’altra, eppure il legame d’affetto e protezione dell’infanzia riemerge nei piccoli gesti della vita quotidiana che riportano alla memoria i traumi del passato.
Un romanzo toccante, permeato da una profonda lucidità e tenerezza con cui Élisa Shua Dusapin, autrice pluripremiata e tradotta in trentacinque lingue, indaga la solitudine e la forza dei sentimenti che continuano ad ardere nel silenzio.

Genres: Fiction, France, Literary Fiction, Contemporary, Family, Family Drama, Novels

143 pages, Kindle Edition

Published June 24, 2025

About the author

Elisa Shua Dusapin was born in France in 1992 and raised in Paris, Seoul and Switzerland. Winter in Sokcho (Hiver à Sokcho) is her first novel. Published in 2016 to wide acclaim, it was awarded the Prix Robert Walser and the Prix Régine Desforges and has been translated into six languages.

Reviews

[Maxwell]

Each of Dusapin’s novels thus far translated into English (excellently done by Aneesa Abbas Higgins) have been set in different countries: South Korea, Japan, Russia. Now we turn to France, Dusapin’s birthplace and childhood home.

We follow Agathe, a 30 year old screenwriter returning to her own childhood home to help her younger sister, Vera, prepare it for demolition. The home is not up to code, and the sisters, after the death of their father and with an absent mother, can’t afford to meet the standard of living. So it is to be taken apart, with stones from the old place being repurposed in a nearby pigeonnier (dovecote) that, over a century ago, was damaged in a fire.

Not long after their mother walked out on the family, Vera stopped speaking. Whether it was caused by a sudden brain issue or out of Vera’s choice, Agatha–along with her father and doctors–does not know. They can only communicate through text and the written word, which on top of their nearly fifteen year estrangement leaves them with an unstable relationship.

The act of clearing out the home resurfaces memories for Agatha, as she also deals with a personal crisis following her from her now home in NYC and the boyfriend, Irvin, she’s left behind there for the nine days it will take the sisters to complete the task.

Dusapin beautifully renders the quiet intensity of family dynamics, the pain of revisiting the past, and the bittersweet nature of closing out a significant chapter of one’s life. She asks what we owe one another, especially those we share the closest of bonds with: family. As with many of her novels, Dusapin considers communication, and how what we say and how we say it plays a critical role in the functioning of a particular dynamic. Vera is silent; Agathe, though verbal, leaves much unsaid. She doesn’t, much of the time, even to know herself particularly well, or is simply learning to comprehend so much she’s put aside for the last decade and a half. The subtlety in the book is in what’s not said.

Readers who enjoy quiet, contemplative and character-driven stories will find much to love in Dusapin’s writing. A provocative yet subdued narrative that evokes the French countryside, a mythic landscape, and a tragically beautiful tale of sisterhood.

[Donna Davis · Rating 3 out of 5]

Elisa Shua Dusapin is the author of The Old Fire. My thanks go to NetGalley and Simon and Schuster for the invitation to read and review. This book is for sale now.

The promotional materials describe this brief work of literary fiction as the author’s “most personal and moving novel yet.” If that is truly the case, I don’t think I want to read her earlier work. It’s not a terrible novel necessarily, but given the hype, I am a little surprised. Someone else praised it as “subtle,” and I can vouch for its subtlety; but for me, it is a story in which I keep waiting for something to happen, and in the end, I’m still waiting.

In broad contours, it is a story in which our protagonist, Agathe, must return to the tiny hamlet in France in which she was raised following the death of her father. Her sister Vera is still there, but they haven’t seen one another in a long time. Her mother is alive, but the parents split up when she and Vera were children, and they don’t see her. She and Vera must deal with the estate, hence the title.

As Agathe returns to the house where she was raised, there are all sorts of issues hovering in the background. She is pregnant, deciding what to do about it; her sister Vera, who is mute due to some physical but unexplained cause, resents her for moving to New York when they were both still fairly young; Agathe has a partner back in New York that wants a commitment, but she holds him at arm’s length. She used to have a crush on a neighbor in their French village; does she still?

As the book ends, none of these things is addressed much. Agathe and Vera sort through their father’s effects and make decisions, not always agreeing; there’s a great deal of inner monologue; and when Agathe leaves to return to New York, nothing much has changed or been decided about anything. And I am left with questions and more questions. What’s with Vera’s mutism? Why don’t they and their mother talk? Agathe comes to France, and not even a phone call…? What does Agathe even think of the man back in New York that’s waiting for her?

I’m inclined to recommend this book to insomniacs as a sure cure, but it’s probably not that simple. I note that it was a huge hit in France, and has been translated into dozens of languages, yet most English-speaking readers seem as underwhelmed as I am, and so I have a hunch that my lack of enthusiasm may be cultural. But I can only report my own impressions, and my impressions say that this book is a snooze fest.

[Cindy Landes · Rating 3 out of 5]

J’aimais l’ambiance très étrange, le climat de tension entre les deux sœurs.

Il y a de nombreux mystères, plusieurs zones floues. J’étais donc très intriguée, j’avais hâte d’arriver à la fin pour combler tous les trous!

Mais ça l’air que c’était pas le but, on reste dans le flou total. Heureusement que c’était très court, j’aurais été plus que frustrée si ça avait été une brique et de finir ainsi.

[charlie medusa]

c'est-à-dire que je n'ai rien à dire (mais alors vraiment rien)

[jason · Rating 4 out of 5]

“…it was always to protect you. I wasn’t strong enough to stay. That’s why I’m incapable of talking to you. I’m going to leave again, and I need to know that you don’t hate me. You have no idea how much I love you.”

honestly i don’t have much to say about this other than that i liked it! “the old fire” follows a woman named agathe returning from the united states to her hometown in france to clear out her childhood home after the passing of her father. there, she reunites with her sister, véra, who has been nonverbal since their youth. together, the two of them revisit old memories and resurface the past. there’s love, hate, loss, and the exploration of navigating those emotions.

this was extremely plotless, like the epitome of no plot, just vibes—and i loved it. there was a really distinct atmosphere throughout the book, cold and contemplative and soft. despite being told from agathe’s point of view, it’s clear that each sister is distinct and deeply complex, and i loved seeing that fleshed out through their interactions and their tumultuous relationship. the prose is very sparse and subtle, and the reader isn’t given a ton, but i found it quietly haunting.

“the old fire” ultimately grapples with a lot of multi-layered questions. what do we do when we love someone but don’t really know them? how much of ourselves can be expressed through language, and how do we confront a lack of it? and can we ever truly leave anything behind?

thank you to simon and schuster for sending me an ARC in exchange for an honest review!

[ritareadthat · Rating 3 out of 5]

Agathe returns home to assist her sister Vera in cleaning out their childhood home after their father's death. The book is short and read quickly, I finished it in a few hours. The start is a little slow, but as it builds, the author imbues the story with a slight element of intrigue and mystery, hinting that there is more here than meets the eye. Feelings are conflicted between the sisters, as they have been estranged for years. Will they discover a way to communicate again, setting their differences aside, in a last attempt at reconciliation? Time will tell.

The setting and feel here had me reminiscing about a number of books with similar vibes - We Have Always Lived in the Castle, I Capture the Castle, The Safekeep and Blue Sisters. if you enjoyed any of these books you will most likely appreciate The Old Fire.

While I enjoyed it overall, and there were many notable passages that I highlighted, I felt there was a connection that was lacking. There was a touch of a clinical coldness to some of the writing and details at points that turned me off. Agathe is also a bit of an unreliable/unlikeable narrator in that I feel I can't trust some of the things she thinks/feels about her sister. While this was initially a tad repulsive, I am sure it is what the author intended. In the synopsis at the start of the ebook ARC, this was compared to Katie Kitamura or Elena Ferrante, and while I have not yet read Ferrante, I have read Audition by Kitamura and I can see a hint of that here in the narrator.

Overall I would recommend it if you are looking for something short and quick that does have some notable passages and if you have interest in sibling alienation/estrangement stories.

Thank you to Net Galley and the publisher for an ARC in exchange for my honest review!

[Mélanie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Elisa Shua Dusapin crée une atmosphère, suggérée par petites touches, au cœur de l'intimité de ces deux sœurs. Avant même que l'on ne s'en rende compte, nous voilà au centre, des pensées, des questionnements, des doutes, des moments où l'on change d'avis, où l'on se trompe, consciemment ou non. Neuf jours pour balayer deux vies, voilà le défi.

[Yahaira]

Thanks to Summit Books for the gifted copy

The Old Fire is classic Dusapin as the most significant events occur in the white space of the page. It is a novel of profound withholding, where the plot doesn't move through action, but through the steady, radiating tension of what is left unsaid.

We follow Agathe, a film scriptwriter, as she returns to her childhood home in France to help her sister, Vera, empty it. The house has been sitting in a state of arrested decay for five years since their father’s death. The irony of Agathe’s job isn’t lost on me. Her career is dedicated to dialogue, yet she returns to a home where words have no currency, where she finds herself functionally illiterate in the language of her own family. She left at fifteen, leaving behind a twelve-year-old sister who was already mute, who only communicates through handwritten notes or text messages. Returning fifteen years later, Agathe is a stranger to the very history she belongs to. She is an expatriate not just geographically, but emotionally.

Dusapin’s prose (beautifully translated by Higgins) is vivid, atmospheric, and delicate. Frustratingly, the unease in each scene has a peculiar habit of evaporating or dissolving rather than resolving. Conflicts over their mother’s abandonment, the years of silence, or the reasons behind Agathe’s own desertion of Vera never reach a boiling point. Instead, the tension simply turns to vapor, leaving the reader with the same unanswered questions from the beginning of the book. Annoyingly true to life, we never find out the reason for Vera’s mutism, Agathe’s sudden departure, or what happens with her secret tragedy.

Dusapin’s restraint is either going to move you or irritate you. It is a book that can feel empty and cold like the stone house the sisters are emptying. It can also be quietly tragic and moving in how it asks if we can ever go home again. For Agathe, the answer is a quiet, devastating no. This doesn’t quite reach the melancholy I felt when reading Winter in Sokcho, but it’s a return to form after the underwhelming Vladivostok Circus.

Something I wish I could go deeper into is the connection to Perec's work. As Agathe helps Vera empty the house, she continues to work on a script based on Georges Perec’s W, or the Memory of Childhood, a book I haven’t read. After some googling I see that Perec used a fictional story to circle the "void" of his own lost childhood and his mother's disappearance in the Holocaust. Similarly, Agathe and Vera are circling a void: a mother who left them to start a new family elsewhere, and a father whose death has left them with a house to dismantle but no shared language to process it. Now I feel like I need to read Perec to see the deeper meanings, is Dusapin saying something about controlling reality into something manageable, but the tensions between the sisters resist this? I feel like I’m missing a key piece of the puzzle.

[haslerroberson · Rating 2 out of 5]

While overall this book left a lot to be desired, I do think it had a couple quite compelling and tender moments. At its core, this story centers around two estranged sisters who have reunited after fifteen years and are working together to empty out their decrepit childhood home ahead of demolition. There are many aspects of their familial relationships that the reader is never made privy to, and it’s these same secrets that seem to have caused their family to fall into disrepair, just like their house. There were so many hints about past events and other secrets that I assumed we would get at least a couple belated resolutions for, but no dice. There were parts of the story where I thought I suspected a haunted house, almost psychological vibe, and others hinted at more of a somber romantic tone, but neither of these hunches proved fruitful. I found the writing to be eerie yet eloquent but the story left me dissatisfied.

[Jennifer · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Old Fire by Elisa Shua Dusapin was a steely realistic fiction that felt emotional and gritty. The family was wrought with struggles and certain limitations that had me thinking for days. How do we feel about our sisters? What family drama shaped our relationships?
It’s a short read with a feeling of powerfully uncomfortable truths. The author did a great job expressing the deep emotions that follow us when we leave our family. I gave this a high 4⭐️.
Thanks, S&S/Summit Books via NetGalley.

[Vivi Doleig · Rating 3 out of 5]

Parmi les passages obligés que la vie nous contraint d’expérimenter, la mort d’un ou de ses parents n’est jamais anodine. Agathe et Véra, ces deux sœurs éloignées par les aléas du temps, se retrouvent pour trier, vider et tirer un trait définitif sur ce qui fut la maison familiale.

Ce duo de prime abord incompatible, ce pas à pas attendrissant initié par chacune pour retrouver une trace de ce lien fraternel d’autrefois ; c’est avec beaucoup de subtilité et d’intelligence émotionnelle que l’auteure décrit ces petites scènes du quotidien. Un quotidien de quelques jours seulement, qui pourrait solidifier les liens désunis des deux femmes ou au contraire, leur faire comprendre qu’il ne faut parfois pas forcer le destin.

Mais ce simple tri dans les affaires enfantines, n’est que le réceptacle du tri que Véra peut-être, et Agathe très exactement, doivent effectuer dans leur vie, dans leurs relations aux gens et à l’existence.

Certains souvenirs affleurent et tout n’apparaît pas aujourd’hui comme les sensations d’alors. Faut-il accepter les regrets ou tout assumer en se convainquant qu’il fallait qu’il en soit ainsi ?

Quand chacune croit avoir souffert plus que l’autre, lorsque chacune croit avoir raison et savoir ce qu’elles pensent l’une de l’autre, les malentendus, les quiproquos, les non-dits, les actes manqués, tout finit par faire sens.

Au-delà de la palette d’émotions parfois contradictoires ressenties tout au long du livre, on se sent lié à Agathe car on a l’impression qu’elle se confie comme elle écrirait à son journal intime. Ses sentiments, ses épreuves, ses diverses discordances, ses défauts, ses multiples maladresses… elle nous donne envie de rentrer au sein du livre pour lui prodiguer tous les conseils dont elle a besoin et toute l’attention qu’elle n’a pas su donner, la lui apporter.

Le seul gros bémol de ce livre intimiste réside très précisément dans quelques mots qui m’ont profondément choquée. L’auteure décrit le compagnon d’une des protagonistes, et précise qu’il la pénètre sexuellement alors qu’elle dort. Elle se réveille donc parce qu’elle a été pénétrée à son insu pendant qu’elle dormait. Je ne comprends pas comment on peut banaliser ce genre de comportement sans rien préciser, sans faire passer le message que ceci est un viol, et non pas une attitude acceptable et normale. Je suis abasourdie… Je vais avoir du mal à oublier cette partie pourtant si succincte du livre.

J’espère que l’auteure répondra à mon message, lui demandant une explication…

Je ne renonce pas pour autant à découvrir ses ouvrages précédents. Son talent est certain.

[Rae Franco-Rowe · Rating 4 out of 5]

Agathe leaves New York and travels to France. she left this country and her family at the age of 15. Her travels take her home, as her Father has passed away and her sister, Vera, needs help emptying the house. You see the house is very old, with many old belonging in it to be gotten rid of. Agathe and Vera have not even seen each other in all those years. But what troubles Agathe is her sister stopped speaking at the age of 6 years old.

She goes back to her childhood home to a sister she really does not know, as she is an adult now. They must learn to work together. There are so many childhood memories as they go through the belongings in the home. What is sad is that the home is to be knocked down. What a great loss. I was given an opportunity by the publishers to read this novel, as I have read many books for Summit Books. It gives one a chance to be in France. You can do so much traveling in reading books. Thank you Summit Books for giving me the chance to travel to France, a place I never had been to

[James B · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thanks to Netgalley and Summit Books for the ebook. At fifteen, Agatha had a chance to leave her quiet, countryside French home to study in the US and she never returned home. Now at thirty, she’s going home to clean out her childhood home after her father’s death. She and her sister, Vera, who stayed behind in France and mysteriously stopped speaking at the age of six, have an awkward dance as they try to understand each other while packing and reliving so many memories from their past. A simple, but still complicated, short novel.

[Laetitia · Rating 1 out of 5]

la description du cadre et l’ambiance sont réussies, mais j’ai trouvé ce roman fade et peu attachant, à force de vouloir une écriture contemporaine, sans continuité narrative, avec des personnages mystérieux dont on ne sait presque rien, une écriture crue pour dire sans filtre les sensations du quotidiens, bah on parle d’odeur de fromage et de fourmis et on s’ennuie… la question de l’aphasie aurait pu être très touchante et intéressante mais traitée de manière trop superficielle à mes yeux

[Vonnie · Rating 3 out of 5]

This one was soft and heavy at the same time. The writing had a quiet kind of beauty that made me feel like I was walking through the old house with the sisters. It’s more about mood than plot, so it moves slowly, but that worked for me. Some parts felt a little distant, yet the emotion hit when it needed to. A tender story about family, memory, and the things we never say.

[Michelle (shareorshelve) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hmm, I liked this. Immediately, I liked the writing and the tension between sisters Agathe and Vera. I was more drawn to Vera—her silence, her proclivity for violence / destruction, which gives the story much of its unease.

Loss saturates this book. There is the death of their father, the abandonment of their mother, Vera’s loss of speech, Agathe’s miscarriage, the sisters’ lost closeness, and the final farewell to their childhood home.

There is little plot, but the emotional stakes compelled me to keep reading. The sisters’ relationship and even the relationships that orbit them seem to be in a state of near-collapse.

One bit I highlighted was the story of pigeons locked in love and catching fire. To me it represented something essential about the relationships in Old Fire: closeness that combusts rather than consoles.

I was anticipating that Vera’s tendency towards violence would come to some kind of release that would propel the sisters somewhere past whatever their current state was. The ending was nicely written, but I hoped for more of a catharsis.

[Conny · Rating 3 out of 5]

Agathe hat sich eine Karriere als Drehbuchautorin in New York aufgebaut. Dann, nach 15 Jahren nur spärlichen Kontakts, meldet sich ihre Schwester Véra: Ihr Vater ist gestorben, sie müssen ihr Elternhaus im Périgord ausräumen. In den wenigen Tagen, die sie gemeinsam verbringen, loten die beiden Frauen aus, was von ihrer einst engen Verbindung noch übrig ist.

Ihre gemeinsame Sprache war nie einfach: Véra spricht nicht. Nicht mehr – als Kind hatte sie eines Tages plötzlich damit aufgehört, weshalb, hat man nie herausgefunden. Als ältere Schwester hatte Agathe das Sprechen für Véra übernommen, sie beschützt und verteidigt. Doch nun, nach Jahren der Abwesenheit, findet sie sich einer erwachsenen Frau gegenüber, die ein selbstständiges Leben führt und sehr wohl für sich einstehen kann.

Nun müssen die beiden Schwestern eine neue Sprache miteinander finden. Und an der Oberfläche funktioniert das gut: Agathe spricht, Véra tippt auf dem Smartphone. Das, was diesen Roman interessant macht, liegt aber viel tiefer verborgen. Schicht für Schicht werden nicht nur alte Kleidungsstücke und verstaubte Spielsachen freigelegt, sondern auch verdrängte Erinnerungen und Gefühle, die in der Familie unausgesprochen blieben.

Elisa Shua Dusapin beschreibt Alltagsszenen in schlichter, aber nuancierter Sprache und mit viel Fingerspitzengefühl. Oft reichen Andeutungen, um erahnen zu lassen, weshalb die Schwestern – einst unzertrennlich – einander fremd geworden sind. Unter der Oberfläche schwelen Anspannung, unterdrückte Wut, Trauer und Verständnislosigkeit, aber auch ein bleibender Funke der Zuneigung. Nur die emotionale Nähe von früher zurückzubringen, scheint unmöglich.

TW: Sexuelle Gewalt
So schön sich der Text liest, liess mich eine Szene dennoch fassungslos zurück: Eines Nachts wacht die Erzählerin auf, weil sie von ihrem Partner im Schlaf penetriert wird. Sie empfindet den Moment als romantisch – bitte, was? Eine derartige Banalisierung eines Übergriffs auf die körperliche Selbstbestimmung ist in einem solchen Roman mehr als fehlplatziert.

Review für Phosphor Kultur.

[Lorin (paperbackbish) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you Summit Books for my free ARC of The Old Fire by Elisa Shua Dusapin — available Jan 13!

» READ IF YOU «
🔥 like slow, quiet novels that linger
🐦 enjoy stories rooted in nostalgia and memory
🤍 prefer emotional shifts over big plot twists

» SYNOPSIS «
A woman travels home to rural France to help her sister clear out their childhood home. It’s been years, though, and it will be a bit rocky as the two work, reflect, and slowly find their footing again in this charred landscape.

» REVIEW «
This is a soft, beautifully written book that burns slow and steady, but bright nonetheless. I really love how emotional Dusapin’s stories are, they’re my favorite flavor of “not much happens.” The tension between the sisters and all their resentments feels ultra-real to me, and I enjoy how honest the plot is—there’s no magical resolution of the decades of hurt.

This one is for you if you’re looking for an introspective story with a complicated sibling dynamic!

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐

[laublct · Rating 3 out of 5]

C'est lent, c'est court, c'est très mélancolique. J'aimerais tout de même lire son premier roman qui a reçu un prix

[Lucie · Rating 4 out of 5]

un héritage lourd à porter, une maison de famille qu’on doit quitter, une réflexion a propos du poids de notre enfance et son influence sur notre vie adulte, le Périgord : tout ce que j’aime

[✿ · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

[julia.liest aka einfach.naturlich.mama · Rating 4 out of 5]

Verbundenheit & Veränderung
-Rezensionsexemplar-
.
Genre: Ein wunderschöner Roman über 2 Schwestern. Vergangenheit, Verbindung und doch auch Veränderung.
.
Setting: Agathe, Drehbuchautorin in New York ist wieder zurück in ihrem Elternhaus. Die hilft ihrer Schwester beim ausräumen des Elternhauses. Obwohl sich beide verändert haben & ihre Schwester nicht redet - die alte Verbindung ist noch zu finden.
.
Schnapp dir einen Kaffee & schmöcker dich durch diese nostalgisch schöne Geschichte

[Pauline E · Rating 3 out of 5]

Mouais.

[Deirdre Megan Byrd · Rating 3 out of 5]

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for allowing me to read this story. This story really touched me. I thought the story was captivating enough to read through but fell short in some ways where I wish we got more. Family dynamics are complex and we see this here.

[victoria marie]

[en français] • ***/****ish

[Nancy Yager · Rating 2 out of 5]

The Old Fire by Elisa Shua Dusapin is quiet, atmospheric literary fiction with that slow-burn, grief-soaked feel you get when a book is really about what isn’t said. The plot is simple but heavy: two sisters, Agathe and Véra, return to their childhood home after their father’s death and sort through his belongings, trying to decide what stays, what goes, and what any of it means now that he’s gone.

What hooked me right away was Dusapin’s writing. I loved the descriptions of the land—the damp air, the textures of the place, the way the countryside feels like it’s pressing in around them. And the pigeon thread? Weirdly fascinating in the best way. Those scenes and details gave the story this slightly haunted, folktale-adjacent mood, like the setting itself is holding onto memories the characters would rather avoid.

Where the book didn’t totally work for me was the sister dynamic. It often felt like Agathe makes the big decisions (how the days go, what matters, what gets dealt with first), and Véra barely gets a say. Maybe that’s the point—maybe Dusapin wanted that imbalance to sit there on purpose, because it’s part of their history and part of the family silence. But as a reader, I kept wishing for more balance and more access to Véra.

Agathe is the sister we spend the most time with, and she’s not exactly easy to “love.” She’s sharp, guarded, and sometimes feels like she’s narrating life from a distance. That might be emotionally honest—grief can do that—but I have to admit: I didn’t really connect with her. I understood her, but I didn’t feel deeply with her.

Véra, on the other hand, made me curious. She’s there, she’s present, and yet she’s a bit of a closed door. I found myself thinking: Who is Véra now? What does her adult life look like when Agathe isn’t in the room? What does she want that she’s not saying out loud? The book hints, but I wanted more than hints. I wanted at least one moment where Véra fully steps forward and claims space on the page.

That said, I still came away impressed. This is one of those novels that feels like it’s written in careful brushstrokes—small movements, loaded pauses, meaning tucked into objects and routines. It’s a story about sisters, loss, memory, and the strange power of a place you thought you’d left behind. And it explores how families can be close in history but distant in practice, how the past can feel like a locked room, and how grief doesn’t always make people softer—it can make them stubborn, controlling, or silent.

If you like literary fiction that leans into mood, setting, and emotional undercurrents (and you don’t need everything neatly explained), this is worth your time—especially if you’re in the mood for something introspective with gorgeous writing.

Thank you to NetGalley and S&S/Summit Books for the advance copy. All opinions are my own.

[Clelia LADINI · Rating 4 out of 5]

C'est un soir aux actualités Suisses que j'ai entendu le nom de cette auteure, cette Périgourdine de naissance, habitant le Jura Suisse avait déjà fait parlé d'elle pour un précédent livre, que certainement j'irai lire prochainement.
Je l'ai rencontrée au salon du livre de Nancy et j'ai acheté son livre.
Un petit livre court mais dense, comme les pierres de cette maison qu'Agathe et Véra doivent vider, cette maison familiale inoccupée depuis la mort de leur père. Cette maison vendue pour être détruite, mais dont les pierres vont servir à la reconstruction d'un pigeonnier voisin.
Comme ces pierres avons nous une ou plusieurs vies?
Véra est aphasique depuis sa tendre enfance, et Agathe a toujours parlé à sa place lorsqu'elles étaient enfant, puis Agathe est partie aux USA. Avec la nécessité de vider cette maison, les deux soeurs se retrouvent, et tentent de communiquer, dans un laps de temps très court, une semaine, pour clore le chapitre de leur vie familiale et retisser des liens fraternels. Déconstruction et reconstruction.
Un style très agréable, des phrases simples en apparence, peu de mots mais plein de demi-teintes, de sens profond.
Un livre très intéressant qui m'a fait découvrir cette auteure, et je pense bientôt lire un de ses précédents livres.

It was on the Swiss news one evening that I heard the name of this author, who was born in Périgourdine and lives in the Swiss Jura, and who had already made a name for herself with a previous book, which I'm sure I'll be reading soon.
I met her at the Nancy book fair and bought her book.
It's a short but dense book, like the stones of the house Agathe and Véra have to empty, a family home that has been unoccupied since the death of their father. The house has been sold for demolition, but the stones will be used to rebuild a neighboring dovecote.
Like these stones, do we have one or more lives?
Véra has been aphasic since childhood, and Agathe always spoke for her when they were children, then Agathe moved to the USA. With the house needing to be emptied, the two sisters meet up again, and try to communicate, in a very short space of time - one week - to close the chapter of their family life and rebuild fraternal ties. Deconstruction and reconstruction.
A very pleasant style, seemingly simple sentences, few words but full of half-tones and deep meaning.
A very interesting book that introduced me to this author, and I'm thinking of reading one of her previous books soon.

[Jacob · Rating 4 out of 5]

There’s this sort of shell around Dusapin’s stories that can scare off casual readers—and I’m not just talking about their god-awful French covers. The sparseness of her writing, as well as the seeming aimlessness of her plots, can seem offputting at times. This year I’ve read each of her four novels, and none had seemed to live up to the magnificent, understated beauty of Winter in Sokcho, including this book when I first started reading it. They all managed to replicate the linguistic scarcity of the first without replicating its emotional depth.

Due to chaos in my personal life, I only got through a third of Le vieil incendie before putting it on the backburner, sure I knew the story: a French expat returns home to help her mute sister clean up their childhood home after their father’s passing, and they sift through as much emotional baggage as they do personal belongings. The protagonist was emotionally stunted, of course, given the flurry of short, simple sentences that structure her inner monologue and her inability to communicate with loved ones. Literally: her sister stopped speaking over 15 years prior, and they didn’t so much as email each other from opposite sides of the Atlantic.

Fast forward to three weeks later, and I have to finish the book so I can return it to the library before Christmas vacation. Sigh. How tedious. Except, maybe because the story has had three weeks to linger in my subconscious, I find myself absorbed in the barebones story, the staccato of sentences propelling me along the characters’ emotional journey. I finish the final two thirds in one sitting, unsure of why I’d been so put off at the beginning.

It’s almost laughable how different each Dusapin novel is. She writes about people with niche jobs (dialogue writer, comic book designer, circus costume designer, pachinko parlor owner) and who find themselves scattered throughout the world. Her protagonists are often misfits, from one place but living in another, belonging to two cultures and therefore sticking out of both. They feel alien and alone, and though they may face no great conflict in the plot to mirror their internal struggles, each undergoes a profound emotional change. Or is about to, when the author cuts their journey short like an acrobat suspended between two trapezes.

[Fran · Rating 3 out of 5]

“The building looks tired, the ivory-covered roof sagging above the brickwork…it’s all so familiar, the stone floor, the wooden furniture…my parents’ double bed in the center of their room… I’m not sure what had been worrying me the most, the thought of sleeping in their bed or the prospect of sharing our old room with my sister…The whole situation is absurd, my sister and I together again like this for the first time since my father died five years ago.”

Two estranged sisters will spend nine autumn days at their crumbling childhood home in the French countryside emptying a dwelling deemed too expensive to modernize. The house was once part of the estate of Le Pigeon Froid, the neighboring estate. The owner, Octave, an environmental archeologist by profession, enjoyed conversing with the girls’ father who conducted tours of the nearby caves. Octave requested that once a demolition crew was engaged, he would hope to be given any salvageable stone to help with the restoration of the chateau’s pigeonnier. Octave kept an eye on Vera, the younger daughter, often stopping by to gift her with his homemade jams.

The relationship between Agathe and Vera seemed to have soured fifteen years ago when Agathe, a gifted student, spent her high school years studying while living with a host family in the United States. Agathe had once been Vera’s protector, but she was no longer strong enough to continue to champion her. Agathe lived in New York with her boyfriend Irvin while concentrating on her scriptwriting career. She was devoid of feelings for Irvin, not unlike past communications with her father…conversational silences. The long distance phone calls eventually stopped coming.

What about Vera? Vera had stopped talking at age six soon after their mother had left the family. Was there a physical/psychological basis for this issue or just controlling silence? Vera communicated by nodding her head, gesturing, and texting on her cell phone. When in pain, animalistic sounds might be emitted.

Two sisters…virtual strangers forced to work together to empty their house…little common ground…a lifetime of memories and trauma…unending, pain filled days. “If I wasn’t your sister, would you be friends with me?...No, I say as softly as I can. I don’t think so.”

Thank you Summit Books for a physical ARC in exchange for an honest review.

[Casey | Essentially Novel · Rating 4 out of 5]

“𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬.”

3.5 rounded up to 4. Thank you Summit Books for sending me a gifted copy and providing an advanced readers copy on Netgalley as well! I learned of Dusapin’s Winter in Sokcho a handful of years ago and have heard wonderful things about it but have yet to acquire a copy and read. Still, when I saw news of this one being translated to English (originally published in French in ‘23) I was immediately interested.

It is quiet, tender, softly emotional, and contemplative. The atmospheric setting of a small, French village with nearby forests and hills made this inviting, my curiosity piqued. The intimate environment sets a unique contrast against the estrangement of Agathe and her nonverbal sister Véra as they sort through the belongings in their childhood home while reflecting on their past/present, resulting in a palpable discomfort of both the unknown and familiar.

It is ethereal, yet throughout and certainly by the end I wanted more, and maybe, that’s intentional. These two sisters, bonded by blood, otherwise grown into strangers, each unable or perhaps unwilling to communicate transparently, surrounded by their individual pasts and shared history, feel tethered to one another, that tension of love and even some resentment, of everything felt and thought but never spoken. A separation of lives, not knowing when or if they’ll ever cross again; the ambiguity of restoration of the tie that forever binds them.

For those who enjoy literary works that cause you to ponder and reflect, that flow more with the inner reveries of the characters rather than a plot, I think you’ll find this one might scratch that itch for you. However, I can also see why some readers may not enjoy this at all. For me, I plan to revisit as I’m sure I may see different things each time I do. Content includes mentions of a miscarriage, loss of parents, and one intimate scene (vague, recalled memory).