more prize-winning novels in French: Debray, Delay, Biabciotti, Jardin

I read La neige brule, by Regis Debray. It was a novel I found thoughtful, and despite its conventionality (basically a Marxist revolutionary Harlequin -- oh! The author is going to kill me if he reads this!), thought-provoking. The narrator at one point says: "her warmth comforted me and annoyed me, like life itself." Is life always warm and also always annoying? I fear so, and yet I try and avoid concluding so. I also read an insipid novel, Riche et legere (rich and callous), by Florence Delay, whose title turned out to be entirely too apt . Hector Ciabciotti's first novel in French (despite the Italian name, his first language is Spanish) turned out to be meandering and just this side of pointless. It didn't hold my attention. Right now I'm reading Le zebre, by Alexandre Jardin, and I find it mildly intriguing. I also read Sylvie Germain's Jours de colere, which I kept mistaking for a Quebec novel, although it's clearly set in the Morbihan, in Brittany. Possibly the language characteristics survive until today....