“For those forgotten on Sunday, simply seeing a turtle dove, or some rabbits, in a hat is wonderful and lightens the heaviness of their day”.

“Forgotten on Sunday” is packed filled with warmth, charm, intimacy,
love, loss, grief, memories, relationships, humor, … all the great universal themes ….
The writing is beautiful — *so moving* - with characters I wanted to hug.

Justine Neige is twenty-one years old. She works as a carer at a retirement home in a small French town of Milly.
Justine really loves her work. Her two favorite things in life are music and old people.
Music, for the obvious reasons and old people, because they tell stories… “The best stories”.

Justine was raised by her grandparents along with her cousin, Jules, who she regards as a brother she loves very much.
Both of Justine’s and Jules parents died in a car crash.
More about that car crash in association to that day — that unfolds slowly throughout the novel.

Honestly… I did some personal reflecting thinking back to my childhood. I didn’t lose two parents suddenly- but I lost one.
After my father died at age thirty four (I was four), his brother, my uncle died young too .. at age forty-five.
Their parents - my grandparents took care of me during the summers in Calistoga, California. My grandma Cookie had all ten toes removed due to diabetes…and to this day I can still remember that big comfy chair she sat in while telling me stories - or sliding in her slippers to the kitchen to make homemade Gefilte Fish.
I kept thinking about the ways the death of Justine and Jules parents death affected their entire lives.

‘So much’ of this story moved me — not only the special relationship Justine develops with ninety-six year old Helen Hel, Helen’s history, stories. writings, grandson: Roman…
or….
secrets from Justine’s own family, and the mysterious caller who refuses to visit -
But ….I think what moved me most ….. is that a twenty one year old could be so passionate- about caring for the elderly. I was thoroughly inspired.

Many outstanding scenes …
here are a few excerpts ( for fun) I’d love to share:
Jules says to Justine:
“Sometimes I think to myself that, had our parents not died, we wouldn’t have grown up together. We’d have only seen each other every now and then. We went from cousins to brother and sister one Sunday morning. Because of a tree on the side of a road, and one of our father is driving too fast. That’s all it can take”.

“Hello, I’ve come to read to my grandmother, but I wanted to say hi first”.
“Confirmation: when I see him, I completely fall apart”.
“He has the sweetest smile. His skin is pale, and his hands are like a little girls, fine and graceful. Beside him, I, Justine, don’t exist. I am normal. An earthling. Blushing. And too much lucid to imagine that a man like him could see me as anything, but the girl who listens to his grandmother, telling her about the sea”.


It’s 9 PM at night. Justine is exhausted. A couple of the residents ask her to massage their hands.
Justine is a saint! I love her!
She says….
“I started my shift at 8 a. m. Didn’t sleep all night, went dancing at the Paradise until 5 a. m. I needed to be young, get drunk, go, crazy, put makeup on, flirt, wear something, low-cut, close my eyes and dance. Convince myself that I’m pretty”.

A normal day at the Hydrangeas Retirement….
Justine making her rounds with the old folks:
“How’s it going today, Monsieur Girardot?”
“My wife has died”
“That was a long time ago, now”.

“How’s it going today, Monsieur Duclos?”
“Shut it, stupid bitch”.
“Well, I say, you’re going strong this morning”.
“How the hell d’you think it’s going?”
“Like a late summer”.
“Stupid bitch”.
“I can be. Come on, time to get up”.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“You need to have a wash, Monsieur Duclos”.

“How’s it going today, Mademoiselle Adele?”
“Fine, my granddaughters bringing me donuts you’re lucky to have a granddaughter, who comes to see you nearly every day”.
“I know”.

“Good Morning, Madame Saban. I’m just removing the cheese and ham you hid in your cupboard. You could get food poisoning, and it stinks”
“It’s because of the Germans: they requisition everything”,
“Don’t you worry, Madame Saban, the Germans went back home long ago”.
“Are you sure? Because I actually saw them yesterday evening”.
“Oh really, where was that?”
“In the bathroom”.

“You know, when you’ve lost the person, you loved most in the world, you lose her every day”.

“Forgotten on Sunday” by French author Valerie Perrin is an absolutely beautiful story.
This is the third book I’ve read by her….and I look forward to anything she writes.

Highly recommended!!!

You sent
Freshwater for Flowers squashed my heart and the copious amount of tears I shed with the beautiful prose can never match with any book ever. While reading Forgotten on Sunday has provoked almost similar emotions in me.

This is a story of a small town, Milly. The story is about her past and present relationship with the lovers in there. It's the story of Justin who was raised by her grandparents and now works in an old age shelter, The Hydrangeas

It is the story of Helene Hal and Lucien. Then there's the harrowing German occupation of WW2. Justin met Helene at The Hydrangeas and took a resolution of writing her story, and in the meantime she uncovered some patchy past relating to her family. There's pain, a lot of it but the ray of sunshine is too bright at the hindsight of the darkness. Justin and Helene are two women who have mysterious lives yet a melancholy shrouds them. The pain of undeclared love is too sharp to bear for anyone and this novel doesn't fail to make the reader see the silver lining in his/her life. It shows that there's hope until the end.

The heartwarming writing and the typical style of the author maintains a fine tread of natural emotions throughout the novel. Although the storyline goes back and forth in time, the memories and present time gel so well that it reminds once again that human connections are above everything in life.

By the time I finished the novel I could feel how Helene and Lucien could have been to their dream destination, a sunny beach surrounded by beautiful white birds.

It is the debut novel from the French author, published in English for the first time. Perrin and the translator Hildegarde Serle have a unique gift, a gift of making people understand the true value of life, love and attachment. Whenever, they teamed up, I became too sure of reading some emotionally charged beautiful writing.

Valerie Perrin, a name which literally makes my heart skip a beat; a name which I admire to no limit; and may be the only name I hero worship after Haruki Murakami.

Thank you @netgalley and @europaeditions for gifting this beautiful book ❤.