The Laws of the Skies, by Grégoire Courtois

The Laws of the Skies, by Grégoire Courtois

She stared at him, eyes wide with terror, before turning to look at his raised foot, which was threatening to come crashing down on a little snail’s bright yellow shell. Enzo was sporting his usual smile, and it was hard to tell whether it was the smile of a deranged child or a deliriously happy one. Regardless, anyone who met Enzo found him to be a creepy little boy, even if it was just an unpleasant sense of foreboding. The violence that came through in everything he did and everything he said made him a danger to be avoided. In his presence, people got in touch with their primitive survival instincts. Without realizing it, they tried to avoid him, and when they found themselves stuck with him, they feared the situation could degenerate at any moment.

—The Laws of the Skies, pg 9-10

SPOILER: The situation degenerates. The Laws of the Skies sounds a whole lot like The Lord of the Flies for a reason.

Hoo, boy. This book is a lot. A LOT. Translated from the French by Rhonda Mullins, it follows a class of six-year-olds, their teacher, and two chaperones into the woods for a weekend-long camping trip… from which none of them will return alive.

And there you have it—based on that description, you very probably already know whether or not you want to read it. I’ve got a pretty high tolerance for non-sexual violence, but I still had to take a break about fifty pages in—it clocks in at just under 150 pages—to unload the horror of what I’d read to Josh, and he was like, “HOW far into this book are you? AND WHY ARE YOU READING IT??” (I had an answer for the first question, less so the second.)

Stylistically, it’s interesting, with the focus shifting rapidly between characters, from the predator to the various—and rapidly dwindling—groups of prey. The narrator gives us lengthy passages about the characters’ personal histories and the psychology of the group dynamics, and the adult commentary over the childrens’ choices and conversations and fears makes it even more of an unsettling read than it already is?

Some characters fall victim to Enzo, yes, but more of them die via nature or mistakes or turning on one another—and for me, those deaths were almost worse? Probably because they’re more preventable? All that said, the ultimate fate of the six-year-old murderer is probably WORSE than whatever you’re imagining? Like, towards the very end, I had to take breaks between pages?

I could be wrong—I’d have to re-read to be sure, but guess what, THAT’S not happening any time soon—but I think that we only we get dropped directly into a character’s shoes one time, and they’re Enzo’s. But it’s not quite Killer Cam, because it’s not when he’s killing—it’s during his own last moments on Earth. So Courtois (and Mullins) make you watch this tiny monster wreck all this havoc… and then very deliberately withhold any sort of comfort-via-ironic-justice.

In other words, there are no pat endings—no easy morals—here. Which, given the subject matter, seems fair?