Therese Raquin

Curator Reviews

Jemima Kirke

If it hasn’t been established yet, then this one says it loud and clear: I’m inclined to morbidity. Set in the stinking streets of early 19th century Paris, it’s a morbid thriller/love story about self sabotage.

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Helen McCrory

I left Africa and childish things, and went to live in Paris, where Thérèse Raquin kept me on the straight and narrow. Read at an impressionable age, it’s a very important moral life lesson about guilt and consequences—without ever having to stick your finger into the pit of hell itself. At the time I was going to the American Library, and looking at the handsome boys who didn’t know I existed because I was a little chubby teenager. The descriptions of Therese sitting there with Laurent, playing dominoes in their house above the shop, and that burning desire for somebody rang very true for a little plump 14-year-old on the banks of the Seine.

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