I’m getting behind in the reviews of books I’ve read this year. So maybe this and a few of the following reviews will be short and sweet.

I became aware of The Mystery Guest via the great book site, The Millions. Maybe I missed (or forgot) the part about it being a memoir, and finding out that it was one disappointed me right off the bat. You see, I don’t much like reading memoirs, especially by authors that are within a decade of their writing career. I get it, though, they just have something to get off their chests. And I guess fiction writing is not good enough for them—I’d rather they kill their inner demons through fictionalized narrative. It’s more fun, and I don’t have to feel like the writer is whining all the time.

To Gregoire Bouiller’s credit, his memoir reads like a great novella. It’s the story of a Bouiller being invited as a mystery guest to an artist’s birthday party (someone he’s never met) by his ex. Throughout, he philosophizes about lost connections, literature, and how everything fits perfectly in place.

I enjoyed Lorin Stein’s translation—the prose was direct and reminded me of Camus’ style (or is that how French writers write most of the time?). If you’re ever stuck inside on a rainy day, I recommend this book. And don’t forget to pour yourself some wine at the same time.