The last kings of Sark is a tale of 3 young people: a lonely rich boy, an unprepared private tutor, and a household cook of questionable kitchen hygiene. All are young, though on different sides of the dividing line between child and independent. All step outside their official roles as both the boy’s parents absent themselves (in different ways) over the course of one summer. When the season ends, they separate; they spend much of the next decade trying to recapture something they cannot quite define.
I am not surprised to learn that the author, though English originally, lives in Paris. This is (to my Yankee ears) a very French book. Yearning, ennui, feeling lost in one’s early 20s, pining for what might have been. Very Umbrellas of Cherbourg.
Enjoyable and sweet, though not entirely satisfying.