Me and the Nobel prize committee will recommend Annie Ernaux to anyone.
I know this is the peak of her collective history/autofiction thing BUT personally I prefer her shorter books that focus on a specific thing more. Passion simple, l’événement, la femme gelée, regarde les lumières mon amour all do this incredible cultural-history-through-her-own- life in a way that feels more precise. They offer her perspective on having a crush, being a slut, supermarkets, the inevitable trap of domesticity etc, in a way that feels raw and relatable. But this one felt less accessible and more indulgent in boomer exceptionalism.
I just didn’t love it as much so I’m more recommending the others than hating on this one.