Pierre Pouchairet's Kulunas opens with a sense of hope and return, which is soon disrupted, turning the Congo-Brazzaville into a landscape marked by violence and conflict. The story weaves together the lives of murdered officials, groups of young criminals, police, soldiers, journalists, and even the lingering presence of the past, known as "the Beach." The setting is defined by a climate where "the language of violence unites them," blending fear, unclear loyalties, and unresolved issues. The narrative progresses through short scenes, shifting perspectives, and moments of revelation, creating a sense of tension and unpredictability. Pouchairet builds his story around a certainty — "Therefore, there is no reason for them to be betrayed and for things to go wrong." — only to later challenge that idea, revealing the complexity of the world he has created. When Claire Dorval realizes that "there was a story within the story and that is what she had to find," the plot takes on a deeper dimension. Behind the Kulunas, there is power; behind the power, a memory that people wish to forget. The book is particularly effective in its portrayal of procedures, field instincts, and the dynamics of power, offering a realistic and detailed look at the events unfolding. Pouchairet favors concrete details and straightforward dialogue, such as "The cops from our place are more dangerous than the kids on the streets, I can assure you," or "They won't find any leads in this mess." This plain language gives the story its pace and tension. However, at times, Pouchairet over-explains what could be inferred, and historical references necessary to understand the Beach occasionally slow the narrative. Some secondary characters are defined more by their roles — corrupt, brutal, powerful — and the accumulation of violence eventually reduces their impact. Some observations about Western cooperation and European concerns seem to reflect the time period rather than directly contribute to the action, acting as brief detours in an otherwise tightly woven story. A true moral darkness lingers throughout: in this world, justice does not cleanse; it merely shifts blame. "If we want justice, we will have to exercise it ourselves." From this point, the investigation turns into revenge, then into a form of contamination. The policeman, the witness, the victim: each begins to lose their sense of self. The story ultimately raises a brutal and fair question: "A justice seeker? A monster? A cop?" It is in this blurring of identities that Kulunas finds its strongest idea: to transform crime fiction from a search for a culprit into a struggle to avoid becoming like him.