For those who have it all, I have never seen a family go to the sea to celebrate a political decision, because for them politics hardly changes anything. I realized this when I went to live in Paris, far away from you: the ruling class can complain about a left-wing government, they can complain about a right-wing government, but no government ever breaks their backs, no government ever breaks their waist, no government ever makes them go to the sea. Politics does not change their lives or changes them very little. It is strange, they themselves practice politics while politics has almost no impact on their lives. For the ruling class, politics is usually a matter of aesthetics: a way to think about themselves, a way to see the world, to shape their identity. For us, it was a matter of life and death.

The third book by Edouard Louis is a monologue addressed to his father in an attempt to explain and reconcile. It is also a heavy indictment against the political and social order, which condemns people to a harsh and limited life, poor in experiences and emotions, while also accusing them of being lazy.