52 pages • 1 hour read
Leïla SlimaniA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Chapter 32 introduces the point of view of Hector Rouvier. Now 18, he was the last child that Louise cared for before she started working for Paul and Myriam. The chapter shows Hector, with his mother, being questioned by the police. Hector doesn’t recall Louise ever being harsh. He and his mother are shocked and horrified to learn that Louise has killed two children. However, Hector also feels “an immense and painful relief. […] As if he’d always known that some menace had hung over him, a pale, sulfurous, unspeakable menace. A menace that he alone, with his child’s eyes and heart, was capable of perceiving” (168).
Chapter 33 returns the narrative to Myriam. She’s unable to sleep after discovering the chicken carcass. Paul thinks she’s overreacting: “It’s like the script of a bad horror film, he laughs” (170). Myriam ultimately does not confront Louise about the incident; “she is terrified by this little blonde woman” (171). She and Paul discuss letting Myriam go in the fall, after the summer holiday. Letting Louise go seems impossible to Myriam: “Louise has the keys to their apartment; she knows everything; she has embedded herself so deeply in their lives that it now seems impossible to remove her” (175).
These chapters contribute to the increasingly dark and ominous tone of the book. The description of Hector Rouvier—a child Louise cared for more than 10 years ago—as a “survivor” explicitly points to Louise’s murderous tendencies, hinting that they’ve been brewing for years. The fact that Hector can’t recall Louise ever showing signs of aggression creates a troubling juxtaposition: There was no telltale sign that Louise was going to “snap”. However, Hector had some gut instinct about the possible threat, recognizing Louise as “a menace that he alone, with his child’s eyes and heart, was capable of perceiving” (168).
This anecdote drives home exactly why Louise is such a unique villain. On the surface, there is absolutely nothing villainous about her. She’s clean, put together, and well-mannered. The fact that she murders Adam and Mila is utterly confusing to the book’s various characters, none of whom can pinpoint any concrete warning signs. It’s only the omniscient narrator (and the reader) who can see all the tiny hints that paint an ominous portrait of Louise. Even these subtle hints—Louise watching the children grow distressed when they can’t find her, or hugging Mila tightly enough to hurt her—might not be so troubling to the reader if they didn’t already know the book’s outcome. Slimani engages a common trope of the thriller genre: the reader witnesses the perpetrator nearing their victim, but it powerless to prevent the inevitable outcome.
This ominous mood is driven home by the image of the chicken carcass on the kitchen counter. Paul even describes the moment as such, but laughs it off. Myriam is more disturbed by the moment. For her, it’s the breaking point where she finally admits her fear. However, as is also typical of the thriller genre, by the time the victim realizes the threat, it’s too late. Myriam sees that “[Louise] has embedded herself so deeply in their lives that it now seems impossible to remove her” (175).