Careful, this book might trigger some laughs and bring on some tears! — Librairie Le Bookstore, Biarritz

Light, melancholic, human: a very real and extremely moving book. — Héloïse Goy, Télé 7 jours

A novel of great humanity where the false levity is gifted with a rare depth. — Librairie L’Impromptu, Paris

A real treat. I have rarely felt so many contradictory, and yet so pleasantly complementary, emotions at the same time, and it was a pleasure. — Librairie Les Mots et les choses, Boulogne-Billancourt

A meander through Paris on the 69 bus, which reads like a painting of human connections, a narration full of poetry, tender and funny. An ode to freedom. — Librairie des Batignolles, Paris

A firm favorite, I loved it! — Librairie Passerelles, Vienne

Poetic – reminiscent of Lautréamont – and quietly subversive, this novel invites us to live only by our nature, against all societal rules. — Elle

Does life create random events, or is it the other way around?

Ever since his neighbor dropped – like the fruit of a tree – dead at the Popincourt bus stop, Pierre has been adrift on line 69. “An urban ghost,” as he describes himself, he’s a guy who’s no longer very young but not yet very old, someone who’s searching for answers in tall glasses of cold milk.

From the Laundromat to the counter of a Kabyle bar, freedom guides his steps. Smoking cigarettes with the hookers on Rue Blondel, whipping up mayonnaise for an ageing famous actress, calling your daughter Trieste and remembering Venice… Everything’s an adventure when you keep your eyes open and never regret anything. Not doing much: that’s what’s extraordinary. There’s more than a touch of Antoine Blondin in Florent Oiseau, whose vagabond sense of humor excels at grasping the ironic poetry of the everyday.

After Je vais m’y mettre, Paris-Venise and Les Magnolias, Les fruits tombent des arbres (Fruit Falls from Trees) continues to explore the resolutely idle human condition, with a dash of cocktail sauce.