Prickly barbs of irony in a touching story about philosophy and beauty. My name is Renée. I am fifty-four years old and have been a housekeeper at number 7 on rue Grenelle for twenty-seven years. It is a nice private house with a courtyard and a garden inside, which is divided into eight very luxurious apartments. They are all huge and each one is inhabited. I'm a small, ugly, fat widow with corns and sometimes when I have a rough morning I wheeze like a mammoth. I fit exactly what the general social consciousness has designated as the paradigm of the housekeeper, so no one would even dream that I am more well-read and educated than all the rich residents of our house. My name is Paloma, I am twelve years old and I live in Paris in an expensive apartment at number 7 on rue Grenelle. Despite all this happiness and all this wealth, I have known for a long time that the final station is still a fish tank. And how do I know that? I am quite intelligent. Even exceptionally intelligent. That's why I decided too. At the end of this school year, on my thirteenth birthday, June 16 to be exact, I will commit suicide. Muriel Barbery writes about deep things with seductive lightness, using ironic language to tell a simple and touching story about meeting and passing, about blindness and vision, about transience and eternity. International bestseller / 1,100,000 copies sold in France / published in 35 countries.