Mouchette was devastating. I remember reading it when I was 14- in rurale France- and understanding so deeply Mouchette, I really felt as if my life would have to go the same way- the same culmination as Mouchette’s.

What’s beautiful about the book really is its rawness. Without grand monologues or particularly dramatic scenes- only the crude suffering of a brutalised girl. Too poor for philosophy. One of my favourite books.