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When choosing a book, I always follow the same approach: I read the first ten pages, a few pages in the middle, and one toward the end. If they leave a positive impression, I buy the book—regardless of the topic.
Applying this strategy, no book has impacted me as deeply as Les Enfants Endormis by French author Anthony Passeron. The evening I discovered it in the library, I had an appointment with my girlfriend. It was hard to explain why I hadn’t heard my phone—why I missed her messages and calls while she wandered around the library looking for me.
The book has an original structure: one chapter focuses on a global topic—the rise of the HIV/AIDS crisis—while the next centers on the author’s family, who suffered multiple losses due to the epidemic. These two storylines alternate chapter by chapter, each unfolding along the same timeline.
I loved how thoroughly researched the chapters on HIV were. Passeron presents complex medical and historical information in a concise, objective, and accessible way. The chapters about his family, by contrast, are intimate, emotional, and beautifully written.
I believe simplicity in writing is a form of mastery. Passeron manages to combine emotional depth, knowledge, and elegance with clear, unpretentious prose. That, to me, is the pinnacle of writing.
The book is about two hundred pages long, and when I finished it, I felt that every word had been carefully chosen. Nothing was superfluous, and nothing was lacking. It was just enough.
