I've read this book twice now. This story is destined for film if the right director picks it up. Mr. Micou takes you into the bosom of a collection of loveable, absurd, contemptible little people and leaves you pretty much loving something about all of them. We learn that "we are paid, therefore we are" can be a pretty good justification for continuing to suck in air despite our own doubts about why we do what we do. The narrative that leads up to O'Connors detection in the French ambassador's house almost made me wet myself. A wonderful book.

With The Music Programme, Paul Micou gives us a look behind the egos and esoterics of classical music with stunning cleverness, while simultaneously painting a portrait of a struggling government experiment as it claws for funding. I discovered Micou while abroad and am overjoyed to finally find his work in America on amazon.com. Don't miss his other works, that are, I dare say, even better than his initial novel: The Cover Artist, The Death of David Debrizzi, and The Last Word.