René Boylesve's novel feels like opening a window into a sun-drenched, but slightly stuffy, drawing room. It follows a successful, middle-aged Frenchman on holiday. He's achieved everything society says he should want: a good career, a comfortable life. Yet, as he relaxes in the stunning scenery of the Borromean Islands, a deep unease creeps in. The very perfection of his surroundings—the scent of the flowers, the calm of the lake—acts as a mirror, reflecting the emptiness of his own safe choices. The conflict here is almost entirely internal, a quiet questioning that grows louder with each passing, beautiful day.

Why You Should Read It

This book is a masterclass in mood. Boylesve paints the Italian lakes with such vivid, sensory detail that you can almost feel the sun and smell the orange blossoms. But here's the magic: he uses that beauty to highlight his character's inner drought. It’s not a fast-paced book, but it’s incredibly thoughtful. You get right inside this man's head as he grapples with a midlife crisis before the term even existed. It’s about the roads not taken and the quiet cost of always playing it safe.

Final Verdict

Perfect for readers who love character studies and lush, atmospheric writing. If you enjoy authors like Marcel Proust or Edith Wharton, who dissect society and the human heart with precision, you’ll find a kindred spirit in Boylesve. It’s a book for a lazy afternoon, one that doesn’t shout its themes but lets them settle over you like a gentle, slightly melancholic, fog. A beautiful, forgotten slice of early 20th-century introspection.