A sharp, timely debut about a young woman’s toxic relationship with an older man and her battle to free herself from the suffocating expectation to be “good”
When personal scandal forces her to leave Paris, Frances, a young British graduate student, travels to southern France one summer to volunteer on a farm. Almost as soon as she arrives, she is pulled into a relationship with the farm’s enigmatic owner, Paul, a well-traveled older artist. Alone in a foreign country, drawn into his orbit, and eventually tangled up in his sheets, Frances starts to lose herself in Paul’s easy, experienced charm. Yet over the course of three intense weeks, as she discovers more about Paul and the people surrounding him, she realizes that she’s caught in an emotional battle of wills that threatens to stifle her voice and crush her autonomy. Coming to terms with what’s happening to her and wresting control from an older man with dark secrets of his own are at the heart of this compelling, unsettling novel.
By turns the story of how a modern woman finds the inner strength to regain her sense of self and a fascinating exploration of the power dynamics between men and women, Paul is a deeply human novel that holds a mirror up to many of the issues that people confront today.
Daisy Lafarge is a writer based in Glasgow, UK. Born in Hastings, she has lived in Scotland since 2011.
She is the author of the novel Paul (Granta 2021; Riverhead 2022), which was a New York Times Editor’s Choice, and the poetry collection Life Without Air (Granta 2020), which was shortlisted for the T.S. Eliot Prize and awarded Scottish Poetry Book of the Year.
Her reviews and essays on ecology, art and literature have been widely published, appearing in Granta, LitHub, Wellcome Collection Stories, Art Review, TANK Magazine, The White Review, and elsewhere.
In 2021 she completed a Ph.D. at the University of Glasgow; her thesis focussed on intimacy and infection. The resulting book, Lovebug, will be published in 2023.
After reading the article "Tearing Down the Myth of Paul Gauguin" by Ella Fox-Martens, published in the Atlantic and available online after Sept 3, 2022, I feel an immediate need to revisit this novel and to reevaluate it based on her observations. I love literary criticism when it works this way. It put my discomfort with the novel in an entirely new light for me.
Reading this novel felt like slowly being suffocated by wet towels. At first I was uncomfortable, and then I was struggling for air. I think that means it's a pretty good novel, because it's a terribly uncomfortable story, and I'm no doubt meant to feel uncomfortable while reading it...but. The narrative voice felt so detached to me, and the narrator felt so curiously reluctant to tell her own story, that I was left caring too little about her humanity and her peril. I just wanted to escape.
this book provides a subtle yet chilling examination of a toxic relationship and the power of patriarchy. during the time of the novel, frances is particularly vulnerable and clearly struggling, making her the perfect target for manipulation and control. her vulnerability breeds her increasing passivity and she soon becomes consumed by the men around her, and as a reader it feels equally as suffocating. lafarge expertly builds up the feelings of unease and foreboding that stretches throughout the novel, leaving the reader watching in horror as paul gets his hooks deeper into frances and continues to successfully reel her back in, like prey dangling from his fishing hook.
one of the biggest strengths of this book is the exploration of toxic relationships and all its complexities, which i thought was portrayed very realistically. paul’s patronising comments, gaslighting and control over frances is all very subtle and, as with most toxic relationships, you’re left to just watch their relationship creep closer to boiling point, waiting for it to explode. if you’re looking for an atmospheric and unsettling read, you should give this one a try.
thank you @grantabooks for this kindly gifted copy!
This is the debut novel by Daisy Lafarge (a poet shortlisted for the 2020 TS Eliot Prize for her collection “Life Without Air”).
Pre-publication it was the 2019 recipient of a Betty Trask Award – an award set up to fund “first novels written by authors under the age of 35 in a traditional or romantic, but not experimental, style” in something of a Vintage year (with other winners including Samuel Fisher’s “The Chameleon”, Imogen Hermes Gowar’s Women’s Prize shortlisted “The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock”, Sophie Makintosh’s Booker longlisted “The Water Cure” and the Guardian Not the Booker Prize winner (in a year when I was a judge) Rebecca Ley’s “Sweet Fruit, Sour Land”.
The novel is told in the first person (with a mix of tenses) by Frances – she is a graduate from England studying in Paris a French medieval manuscript believed to possibly have been a primer for Children (the significance of this was slightly lost on me), before some form of incident with her supervisor (A.B.) causes her to want to leave Paris – and instead she decides to spend a Summer visiting organic farms across France where she will work for her board and lodgings.
The first farm she visits is called Noa Noa, a kind of eco-farm/artistic commune run by the older but still, to Frances, charismatic Paul: a wannabe anthropologist and part time arty photographer, who takes any opportunity to regale listeners with tales of the time he lived almost as a native in Tahiti (after which the farm is named).
Frances, still coming to terms with what happened to her in Paris, and who we realise over time has the tendency to lapse into extreme withdrawal, falls under Paul’s influence. Eventually she withdraws to a second farm but circumstances force her back into his orbit despite increasing evidence of his patriarchal control of her and of a shadier side to his time in Tahiti, as the two travel around France visiting Paul’s acquaintances.
I have read a number of debut novels by poets recently – and many I think have naturally adopted the slightly experimental fragmentary style that is currently in-vogue in literature, as it represents a natural transition from their poetical background. By contrast this is I would say a more conventional fictional novel in form although with the occasional use of imaginative metaphors.
This is a book where the epigraphs tell you a lot about the novel’s plot, influences and themes. Claude Levi Strauss talks abut the danger of Anthropology being “the complete absoption of the observer by the object of his observations”; Susan Sontag of the “Compulsion to be what the other wants” – both of which describe Frances’s fate. And the third epigraph is from Paul Gaugin’s book “Noa Noa; The Voyage to Tahiti” of which, increasingly the reader realises, this is a rewrite.
Now in respect to a novel about a dominant patriarchal man largely telling a younger woman what she is feeling and meaning I am rather aware of the irony of me critiquing it – but this is meant to be a review so I would be remiss not to admit that there were aspects of the book I did not really like, many of which are pet peeves of mine. A few examples: a first party narrator who is withholding something from the reader (in this case what happened with A.B) – although later development make it clearer that Frances herself struggles to process the events; a character in a story who says “I was a character in a story, whose situation represents their symbolic isolation”; names whose symbolism (St Paul and St Francis, Frances = France’s, the chain of Paul’s boulangeries) are spelled out by other characters in case the reader missed them; and characters speaking entirely in French rendered in English but with occasional French words and phrases. I think my bigger issue though was with Paul and the characters who surround him – my greatest sympathy with a side-character called Oliver who rails against “pseudo eco-warriors” and how much they annoy him – and so despair that an intelligent, independent woman would need to fall into his clutches.
In its depiction of patriarchy, of toxic relationships, and of repeating behaviour and of the aftermath of breakdown – this is one that I think would particular appeal to fans of Megan Nolan’s “Acts of Desperation” (so that I was very interested to see her blurbing the book), to backpackers with a love of Southern France or to those more familiar with Gaugin and able to pick up on resonances I am sure I missed.
There's much that I liked about this book but it feels a bit like lots of themes are kick-started but don't really come together as much as I'd have liked. Issues of asymmetrical sexual relationships are clear, but some of the writing is more heavy-handed than it needs be: 'Last night he'd been frustrated because I was dry again; I told him I was just tired, or dehydrated. He handed me the half-empty bottle of water we'd had in the car and told me to sort it out.'
Given the epigraphs from anthropologists, it takes some time before Paul's behaviour in Tahiti comes out and then it's at the end of the book and isn't treated with the intellectual nuance it deserves: how do we judge behaviour that is criminal in one culture and perfectly acceptable, even encouraged, in another? Interesting question that gets swept away under a single and straightforward rubric of sexual exploitation. It plays to a popular morality but does leave the book sidestepping any more challenging questions.
So more focus, more depth, more intellectual engagement with the issues raised, more subtlety would have raised my rating - but a book worth reading all the same.
rep: Black side character, gay side character, sapphic side character tw: extremely dubious consent, misogyny, sexism, homophobia,
one of the most uncomfortable novels i have ever read, almost unbearable, and yet, i'm strangely in love. mostly due to the narrator, her voice, the way she's given agency here (because let's be honest, it would be a completely different book if it was told from paul's perspective).
it's about toxic relationships, it's about men manipulating women to get whatever they want, no matter the consequences. all the people frances meets, all the little things she sees, all the places she visits - those were very deliberate choices on author's part & they did an incredible job to tie the story together. the imagery is simply outstanding, the way it's both there to just describe everyday scenes and to give us insight into frances' world.
i've seen reviews describing frances as detached, and yes, there are whole days when she literally doesn't utter a word, but it's her silences that tell the readers everything we need to know. she dissociates during sex, i'm not sure how more clear & loud she can be in telling her story.
What better time to be pulled away into a dreamscape of a novel like this than in an airport waiting for a flight that you thought was 4 hours earlier than it actually was so now you’re bored out of your mind and decided to finish this book because you have nothing better to do? Now! Riverhead gave me an ARC of this (ty to Riverhead who won’t read this) and then I postponed reading it until after it was published because I didn’t feel like it so what’s the point of it being called an ARC at this point. Anyway. I got to it though!
Frances is a 21 year old English student studying medieval literature when she decides to come work for a couple of host families in France in exchange for room and board. This first person she stays with is a guy named Paul… oh my god I just said the name of the book. Don’t you love hearing the name of the book inside the book? With one of the main characters being named Paul, you get that feeling all the time! I’m sorry this is irrelevant, it’s the airport air getting to me. I swear it’s infectious, and the disease is me rambling. Oh wait I do that all the time! God I’m sorry I’m going to stop rambling. Nonetheless, Paul and Frances develop quite the relationship with each other, and the book stems from that point.
I actually quite enjoyed this! Although it wasn’t my favorite read ever, I felt wept away into the countryside of France as I watched our protagonist reckon with the idea of standing up for herself in the face of all these authoritarian type male characters surrounding her. I wish I had read this before so I could have firsthand told you guys what a “vibe” this was, for lack of a better word, but alas. I did note as I was reading that Frances is a bit of a flat character, herself, but walking away from this book, I realize her malleability (derogatory) was the driving point underlying this book’s prose. Yeah this was nice.
Hello and here is a book I loved, but truly hated, but loved.
Paul is about a slimy, forceful, intense … eco farm owner and veggie grower who runs a volunteering programme in rural France. Yeah, bet you didn’t see that one coming. Frances has just graduated from studying an equally intense medieval manuscript and wants a summer break so heads to Noa Noa, this farm/ art/ bee/ festival commune type place.
I think you can see where this is going. The plot of this book is Frances and Paul growing close, with this being particularly one-sided. I’ll give it to the man, he’s persistent. Daisy nicely shows the vulnerability which comes with travelling and flying out of uni into the big bad world. It explores escapism, but also turns pretty dark, focussing on toxic relationships, a lack of consent, and age differences in relationships.
I really rated Paul, the book, not the ratty character. It was beautifully written; with a slow and hazy vibe similar to the start of the film Midsommar. This slow pace, paired with a tangle of lies and manipulation really made this book stressful… and kind of also fast-paced? Frances rly needed a hug and shoulder shake, and one which was not from Paul.
Paul was an uncomfortable read, as most books on toxic relationships do, but it also felt a little more novel than the (questionably) repeated Lolita-style plot.
Overall this is a really solid book which was a stunnnning read. I was so invested in this one and I now wanna get my mitts on Daisy’s first book, the poetry collection Life Without Air. Recommend x
sharp and intelligent writing aiming to subtly explore the extents of patriarchal control. there was an interesting parallel drawn between colonialist ideology and the patriarchy that i wished was further expanded upon and would’ve given this novel much needed depth, but i think a novel lacking a focused storyline such as this couldn’t have handled it—so i respect that it held back.
If I had a nickel for every time I read a book about a girl named Frances who has an affair with an older man in the European countryside, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice
I liked a lot of things about this debut novel. Frances is 21, and a trip to Paris with her mentor to do research on a medieval manuscript has gone awry. Instead, she’s shipped off to give “BeneBio” a try - via a website, travellers can sign on to work on a farm in exchange for food and lodging. Frances’ eye is caught by a farm in the Pyrenees run by a man called Paul. Paul is in his mid-40s and full of stories about his background in anthropology, his travels in Tahiti, his photography, etc etc. Frances has to say very little at all and falls quickly into Paul’s rather domineering orbit.
Lafarge portrays Frances’ puzzling-to-herself passivity and lack of voice very well, though I had a hard time understanding Paul’s magnetism. I couldn’t even get a picture of what he looked like, and he was consistently quite off-putting. It was a very interesting read though. It’s evident that the author is doing something quite ambitious involving Paul Gauguin and his creepy Tahitian travels, and I liked that ambition, even if it didn’t quite come together for me. I would read more of her work.
i'm speechless.. i think i hated this. every page made me mad, i kept reading and reading because i wanted to rid myself of paul and his presence and now that it's done i feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest. which i think was the point
thank you riverhead for this arc in exchange for an honest review.
women seem to be a popular subject of recent writings. sad, crazy, revengeful, mad, and i feel like writing them has to be done carefully and properly. it’s so easy to create a woman character that ends up poorly written, whether the anger, sadness or justification of the actions is incorrect or just being written flatly. and i am so glad i didn’t have that issue with this book.
the writing in this book is wonderfully done, the beginning being light and easy and as you continue to read it becomes thick, heavy, suffocating even. So much of the book is description, the gorgeous views, and there is less dialogue than i feel is typical but the read was still intriguing and gorgeous. Daisy Lafarge created a perfect villain, and a perfect idea of a relationship that slowly crumbles.
i feel like some of the bigger themes got a little lost, the biggest one for me is how do we judge behavior that is criminal in our culture and is custom in others? i was hoping that in the end this would be answered, but instead it was simply brushed over. aside from this the rest of the writing, storyline and plot was done extremely well. this is a book i will think about for a while.
3.8/5 stars, will add to my collection, will recommend, please check CW/TW for this book as a lot happens
‘Paul’ follows the narrative of Frances, a young woman in her early twenties exploring the rural areas of France after fleeing her studies in Paris. Frances meets Paul, the owner of a sustainable farm and the book follows the dynamic between the two.
This is such an engrossing read and one I’d recommend going into with little knowledge on what it’s about. I felt so trapped and suffocated whilst reading this, matching up to the experiences and emotions of the narrator. It’s one of those books that translate the inflictions into the narrator to the reader, whilst keeping enough distance for intrigue.
All in all, I’d recommend to anyone who enjoys reading books that have interesting character studies & dynamic explorations under the light of relationship abuse.
I think the outstanding quality of this novel is the tension the author creates. A creeping sense of foreboding builds up as Frances flounders around, at every turn influenced by the last person she speaks to. She is aware of her need to keep things calm by pleasing everyone and is also conscious of her vulnerability as she picks up on knowing glances between others and increasingly direct hints people give her about Paul, yet finds it so difficult to resist him and the seemingly attractive lifestyle he offers. As the tension mounted I found myself imagining increasingly lurid secrets to be revealed and worse and worse scenes playing out between a girl who tends to be passive and ‘amenable’ and an older, controlling man until, poof!, all over, and in a surprisingly abrupt way. Perhaps this is how it is when you are as young as Frances, hard to remember now.
An easy enough read, plenty of little instances of wordplay and references to Paul Gauguin that largely passed me by until I looked up his story afterwards. I look forward to reading more from this author.
With thanks to Granta via NetGalley for the opportunity to read an ARC.
I try to keep my voice calm and detached as I ask, "Coquine,' what is that, a nickname?" Tiffanie carries on splashing Rosalie. "Coquine? No, it's like…it's something you'd say to a little girl. If she's being cheeky, like this one!" Rosalie's cries are shrill and piercing. "Unless you're a grown woman," Vanessa says, flicking through photos on her phone. "A man would call you 'coquine' if you were teasing him." "I think in English you say "tart?” Tiffanie offers. "Oh,” I say, my head reeling.
provides great insight into toxic relationships, not that any of us needed it, and does imo a womderful job at capturing the realities/struggles/nuances? of interacting with the french in france as a (young, white, female) foreigner.
4.5 stars. This was definitely a slow burn but the last third of the book had me seething. The descriptions of the French countryside were so atmospheric. Such an accurate depiction of someone’s vulnerability being used against them in a toxic relationship. Poor Frances hope you fix your daddy issues soon chick
I'm giving this a 3 star review for the writing ability only as I didn't actually enjoy the story. I thought the story itself was horrific and like another reviewer, felt highly uncomfortable and uneasy on reading.
The feeling of entrapment and confinement and the inability to escape a situation felt cloying to me and I was trying to skim read through these parts as it was actually giving me the fear.
The whole thing just gave me "the willies" and I can't say this was a pleasurable reading experience, rather an endurance test. The fact that the writing felt quality despite all this is testament to Lafarge. I can still only give 3 stars because to say I "liked" it is a stretch by a mile.
An absorbing coming-of-age novel about a dysfunctional, abusive relationship between Paul, an older man, and Frances, a young research student who flees Paris after a traumatic experience (of which we will learn later on).
Still confused, “half-formed" and untethered, she sets off on a trip that should take her to work on a few organic farms. In Noa Noa, she meets Paul, farm owner and amateur anthropologist who has returned from Polynesia to France with lots of artefacts and diaries. While initially the novel resembles a very conventional romance, little by little the asymmetric relationship begins to crumble: starting from tiny, nearly imperceptible details, we witness Paul’s psychological manipulations, mansplaining and passive-aggressiveness and the way he takes advantage of Frances’ fragility as even darker truths emerge. After she leaves the farm, his pull draws her back and the two embark on a trip through the majestic, hazy summer landscape of the sunny countryside. Although she gradually realises what is going on and her self-awareness emerges, we see her unable to react, malleable and often deprived of her voice, and by the end I was totally invested in her character. I am actually still fuming when thinking of him!
Lafarge sets the novel in the present tense and keeps the tone laconic for immediacy, to emphasise Frances’ state of self-detachment and to replicate the effect of the anthropologist’s gaze, as epitomized by Levi-Strauss’ quote on “the complete absorption of the observer by the object of his observation”. Despite this being intentional, at times I was left wanting for some deeper thoughts and more incisive writing and dialogues,. In fairness the novel also contains effective images and metaphors and after a cold start it still drew me in.
I was truly fascinated by the way Paul’s character is modelled on Paul Gauguin: the organic community is a modern version of Gauguin’s search for a primitive, pristine world and reflects Lafarge’s concerns with climate issues; as to the artist, modern postcolonial criticism has exposed him as a sexual predator who had wife and children in Europe but used his white privilege to marry and have children with thirteen-year old girls, infecting them with syphilis. Their elusive gaze on canvas says it all.
This makes for a harrowing and enraging read, a nuanced portrayal of the relationship between predator and prey and a compelling coming of age novel.
3.5 rounded up
My thanks to Granta and Netgalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Besides a brief essay in a collection on gardening/plants this was my first experience of Daisy Lafarge's writing, and as her only other book, Life Without Air, is a poetry collection I was curious as to how she would approach her first novel.
This is a coming of age novel of sorts - the protagonist, Frances, is in France for the summer. Having left Paris where she was working on research relating to medieval history with her professor after a scandal, she travels to rural France to a farm stay where she will be volunteering to escape life in Paris. The host of the farm stay is Paul, an older man who has travelled extensively and comes across as worldly and experienced to Frances. She quickly embarks on a romantic affair with. They go on to take a road trip together, and as Frances learns more about Paul and his history things between the two of them begin to change.
I have never encountered a character as passive as Frances in a novel; she seems to accept with a lack of emotion almost everything that happens to her: changes in circumstance, sex, work, among others. Paul comes across as controlling, condescending and manipulative to the reader, but Frances seems almost unaware of this and goes with the flow of where things in her relationship with Paul take her. I think this captured well the naivety of young relationships, but it did make for somewhat uncomfortable and claustrophobic reading at times too. As others have noted the narrator is detached and withdrawn, and this contributes to and accounts for the slight feeling of discomfit I had throughout.
Overall, I enjoyed the novel and will definitely be checking out Lafarge's other work.
Thank you Netgalley and Granta Publications for the advance copy, which was provided in exchange for an honest review.
This book was such a treat! Unexpectedly wonderfull and eary with such an interesting protagonist. I loved the atmosphere of the little french villages and the ending! OMG!
deliciously odd & very intelligent writing with the use of motifs & myths as scaffolding to set up a thought process—the structure of the novel in three parts is very neat but i would not mind reading more and more of this
Paul is a subtle, yet deeply disturbing examination into an increasingly uncomfortable power imbalance, between 40 year old, maverick persona -yup you guessed it, Paul (*cough* Gaslighting Gauguin *cough*), and a 19 years YOUNG Frances. A seemingly vulnerable (or highly insecure and frustratingly passive beyond belief!), female graduate student. Who’s only role in life seems to be that of a “muse”. Serving the needs and desires of others -mainly men, without any ability to stop it.
Now I must admit, this is not my usual “go to” read (as I’m quite frankly an absolute wimp when it comes to anything even remotely disturbing lol), but, Paul is honestly like nothing I’ve ever read before.
Paul (the book) quite literally encapsulates the powerlessness of a toxic relationship. Lefarge astutely manages to at once, lull you into sense of calm and comfort, and then -much like the flick of a switch, plunge you head first into the deepest depths of unease and discomfort.
An inescapably frustrating, but wholly fascinating read indeed.