Pierre Lemaitre is a winner of The Prix Concourt Award. I’ve no idea what that is, but I’m suitably impressed and he’s also an international bestseller. The Silence and the Rage is part of a trilogy that follows The Pelletier family. I’ve not read the other two books but have read (and reviewed) one of his other novels ((2018) Three Days and a Life). Like Emile Zola, he can pull the reader into historical events and have you rooting for his characters.

The Silence and the Rage begins in February 1952 and ends 29^th March, 1952, almost 500 pages later.

‘They each had an excuse’ is the opening chapter. Lois Pelletier and his wife, Angele, naturally, wants what he wants. For their children, the eldest son, Jean (nicknamed Bouboule) and youngest son, François and their beautiful daughter, Hélène to come home to French Beirut and attend the annual ‘Pelletier pilgrimage’ to their father’s soap-works and bring with them their partners and children.

None of the Pelletier children are keen. It’s in the chapter’s title. They have their own lives in Paris.

Jean (Bouboule) has somehow contrived, despite his bumbling nature, to be on the cusp of opening a massive retail store in central Paris. Dixie sells women-and-children’s wear and threatens to be a massive success and a game changer for retail trade.

What nearly stopped me and abandoning this book was Jean’s secret. His silence comes from an inability to deal with his social-climbing wife, Geneviève. Think of Donald Trump in female form. Parachute him into her and you’ll understand her character and her motivations. Not only is Geneviève petty, cruel and vindictive—nothing good can be said about her (or the current President of the United States)—but she also hurts and neglects their three-year-old daughter, Collette.

Bouboule’s rage, however, is not directed at his wife. But other women.

In Lemaitre’s Three Days and a Life, the author does something similar, he flips the reader’s sympathy and helps us empathise with the boy next door, who murders another wee boy.

The villain here is not Boubole but his wife and her view of the world that everything is about her and damn everybody else.

Similarly, the up-and-coming reporter, François, loves Nine. It’s hard not to. She’s very beautiful but incredibly fragile, yet tough and resilient. She has her own life, her own job and won’t let anyone get too close. This might have something to do with her being deaf, but she has other unresolved issues.

Hélène is sharp, uncompromising, and a photographer turned journalist in the same paper her brother works. Geneviève gloats that at twenty-three, despite her good looks, Hélène is unmarried. She’s practically an old maid.

Pregnancy is not a criminal offence. Abortion is. Inspector Palmari loves his work and is a master tactician. An observer of the female form. He worked with the Nazis in rooting out wrongdoers. Vichy records still offer clues.

François’s scoop about villagers opposing the erasure of their village and way of life with the construction of the Chervigny dam and hydro-electric scheme was based on the little village of Tignes. But it falls to Hélène to do the reporting and take photographs. Reportage. Some say they can still hear the church bells tolling on quiet nights. A powerful novel with modern resonance. I’ll be reading more of Lemaitre.

Notes.

The question “Are French women clean?” comes directly from the 1951–1952 ELLE hygiene survey that Pierre Lemaitre reproduces in The Silence and the Rage. 11‑item IFOP questionnaire published by Françoise Giroud in ELLE on 22 October 1951.

The 11 Questions from the 1951–52 ELLE Hygiene Survey

These are the questions ELLE asked French women, as reproduced in Lemaitre’s novel:

Do you remove your makeup every evening?
- 40% yes, 60% no.
Do you wash (full body wash) every day?
- 52% daily
- 11% twice a week
- 23% weekly
- 14% less often
Do you wash your hair every week?
- 11% weekly
- 13% every 15 days
- 39% monthly
- 25% less often
Do you use a nail brush?
- 48% yes, 52% no.
Do you use a bidet?
- 62% yes, 38% no.
Do you use deodorant?
- 54% yes, 46% no.
How often do you change your underwear?
- 17% daily
- 53% twice a week
- 29% weekly
- 1% less often
How often do you wash your girdle and suspenders?
- 56% monthly
- 17% every two months
- 21% every 5–6 months
- 6% never
Do you brush your teeth twice a day?
- 17% twice daily
- 30% once daily
- 18% occasionally
- 15% never
Do you have a permanent (hair treatment)?
- 64% yes, 36% no.
How often do you renew your permanent?
- 6% three times a year
- 24% twice a year
- 34% once a year

These questions were considered shocking at the time because they exposed how limited hygiene infrastructure was in early‑1950s France — few bathrooms, little hot water, restrictive clothing, and norms very different from today.

How Lemaitre Uses the Survey in The Silence and the Rage

In the novel, François Pelletier’s newspaper runs a sensational series based on this survey, using it to provoke debate and boost readership. Lemaitre includes the questionnaire as an appendix and integrates it into the plot as part of François’s editorial work.

The survey becomes a cultural flashpoint in the book — a way to show:

post‑war France’s anxieties about modernity
gender expectations
the rise of consumer culture
the tension between public morality and private habits
Infrequent Bathing: Only 1 out of 10 French women took a daily bath or shower. Over 40% bathed only once a month or less, largely due to a lack of running hot water or indoor plumbing.

Lingerie & Linen Changes: The majority of respondents changed their underwear only once or twice a week, and bed sheets were changed on average once a month.

Toothbrushing: Less than half of respondents brushed their teeth daily.

Infrequent Hair Washing: Most women washed their hair only once every two to three weeks.

Lack of Infrastructure: Less than 10% of French homes in 1952 possessed a fully functioning bathroom with a bathtub or shower, and a large portion of rural homes still lacked running hot water.

The Cultural & Narrative Significance

In Lemaitre's novel, the survey highlights the central contrast of 1952 France: a country rushing toward a glamorous, modern future (embodied by Paris, fashion, and media) while millions of citizens still lived in conditions lacking basic 20th-century amenities much like Glasgow, with more pubs and without the glamour.

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