She sent an e-mail to her father to say that the keys to her flat were in her handbag on the desk and to ask him to feed Frimousse, her cat, and Zébulon, her rabbit. “I’m sorry that you have to receive this sort of message but I’m more than lost,” wrote Stéphanie, who was 32. “Je t’aime, papa”. By the time he read the e-mail she was dead, having thrown herself out of the window on the fourth floor of her office in the latest example of a phenomenon that is often airbrushed out of the clichéd image of France.
Sure, this is le beau pays, the country of wine and gastronomy, of leisurely lunches and stunning scenery, number one for the fourth year running in a recent international quality-of-life survey. But it is also a nation of doubt and anguish, consuming more antidepressants than any other and suffering from one of the highest suicide rates in the developed world. More...
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