Ce qui cède, by Lou Tsatsas

Lou Tsatsas’s debut book (2026), Éditions Double Ponctuation, 119 pages.

A journalist contacts the author to interview her about her experience, “her ordeal with the Tinder rapist,” which happened to her about three years ago. The woman talks about statistics; it makes for good ratings. Especially since she was lucky enough not to be one of his victims. Or so it seems. No drug-induced submission, no video, no photographs. Nothing spectacular. Showing up, letting it happen. Not saying yes, waiting for it to be over, dissociating, feeling more like an inflatable sex doll than a woman, far removed from any consideration of desire, pleasure, or wanting. Becoming an inert form that allows a man to take what he wants. Can this really be called a consensual relationship?

Giving in is not consenting. A phrase we see emblazoned on walls in the street, an obvious truth that is nevertheless so difficult to internalize. Consent is a complex issue, one that touches on our society and our very humanity.

Ce qui cède is an essential account, driven by a liberating rage, that interrogates the patriarchal system: the way it shapes men and women, the conditioning that begins at an early age, the normalization of marital r*pe, the incomprehension of those closest to survivors, prevailing assumptions about victimhood and the way victims are treated, particularly by medical professionals, how their accounts are received, and how perpetrators are judged.

A book that strikes at the heart.