Dark Matter, by Blake Crouch.

It's hard to be objective when, before you even start a novel, you're convinced by ecstatic critics that you're actually about to enjoy a particularly memorable bag of barbecue chips*, especially when you understand the comparison better and better as you read.

The only problem with this analogy is that when I finish a bag of chips, I don't tend to cry. Nor do I think about it every day of my life afterwards.

Summary

Jason Dessen is a physics professor. When he was younger and his girlfriend became pregnant, he decided to focus on his family and, in doing so, give up his career as a physics researcher. Sometimes he wonders what his life would be like if he had made the opposite choice.

I think I'll stop there in the summary. Let me just tell you that there is quantum mechanics involved, and it works like hell.

Impressions

Blake Crouch does something I hate: he writes in one-sentence paragraphs, short sentences at that. He finds it adds speed to the action, I guess. You manipulator who uses easy, unoriginal strategies to capture the readers' attention.

He forces me through an opening in the brick.

Our light beams sweep across a front office.

Furniture rotted down to the metal frames.

An old water cooler.

The remnant of someone’s campfire.

A shredded sleeping bag.

Used condoms on moldy carpet.

We enter a long corridor.

Without the flashlights, this would be can’t-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face dark.

– Dark Matter, Blake Crouch

And you know what? I bought it. It wasn't just that it was impossible to stop the book because there was never a good time, it was that I never felt like stopping. I am someone who likes to sleep and tries to maintain a healthy lifestyle, but for this book I didn't care. It was very late, but I was not sleepy. I kept going, and going, and going, until the end hit me like a hammer. It was beautiful and profound and I cried.

I slept very little that night. But it was worth it.

Si tout ça ne se qualifie pas pour un coup de coeur, je ne sais pas ce qui pourrait l’être.

*I had the same experience with My Year of Rest and Relaxation, and I loved it too. But not as much.