A woman struggles to convince another to leave, but events spiral out of control when a man dies, a mother and her son vanish, and a forest encroaches on the lives of those left behind. Fabrice Jambois begins Grandir comme la nuit with a direct, unflinching narrative: Maud Cervier, a journalist and volunteer working with women who have experienced violence, becomes entangled in the disappearance of Julie Allard. Her investigation takes her from the town of Baccarat to the Institut Montandon, an isolated boarding school for children with exceptional abilities. This setting becomes the novel's core, where the forest is not just a setting but a living presence, shaping the characters’ emotions and thoughts. The Vosges forest is described with vivid, sensory details that create a heavy, almost oppressive atmosphere. The "organic perfume of the forest" is said to be bitter and enveloping, like the smell of stagnant water. Jambois uses this imagery effectively to build a sense of humidity, shadow, and confinement. The manor, chapel, pond, and paths of the Institut Montandon gradually form a self-contained world, complete with its own rules, loyalties, and hidden truths. This setting becomes a character in its own right, influencing the story’s direction and mood. The children at the Institut Montandon bring a unique perspective to the narrative. Their intelligence is not measured by achievements alone but by how they view and respond to the adult world. They observe its flaws and brutalities and develop their own ways of understanding and reacting. One character notes, "Geniuses arrive among us like meteors. Many disintegrate before touching the ground." This line gains power as the group’s depth is revealed—these students share a language, a sense of solidarity, and a logic that challenges the reader’s expectations. Their reasoning is not absurd, but unsettling in its clarity. Meanwhile, the adults in the story are shown as damaged and struggling. Fred, a policeman, carries fatigue, disillusionment, and depression, described as "the intimate tear left by the tip of a crowd of invisible icebergs." Maud, too, has her own burdens, which inform her commitment to helping others without reducing her role to a mere function. The novel balances investigation, personal trauma, and a looming threat, maintaining its momentum through clear prose, quick dialogue, and vivid imagery. Yet, Jambois knows when to slow down, allowing the atmosphere to take over. In the chapel, for instance, "In the semi-darkness, the students of the Institut Montandon form a dark mass." A few words are enough to shift the mood and deepen the mystery. Grandir comme la nuit succeeds not only by asking who did what, but by shifting the focus to a deeper question: what happens to the desire for justice when it is freed from all constraints? At what point do the goals of protecting, repairing, and punishing become indistinguishable from the violence they aim to counter? The suspense is driven by this moral complexity, which is as dark and slippery as the forest itself. The forest, ever-present, seems to witness everything yet remains silent, adding to the novel's lingering tension.