Reading The Thibaults (Les Thibault) was one of my highlights of 2024. Published originally in serial form between 1922 and 1940, the novel tells the story of a family—their historical context, their relationships, and their movements across the private and public spheres. World War I also casts a heavy shadow over the story, but du Gard keeps us guessing, drawing out the suspense and urges us not to think the war was simply inevitable.
The novel is often described as the story of two brothers—Antoine and Jacques Thibault—and while that’s true, it’s not the entire story. A significant portion of the first volume centers on the friendship between Jacques Thibault and Daniel du Fontanin. Their relationship is misunderstood by people around them. And, indeed, misunderstanding becomes a recurring theme in Jacques’ life: his battle against expectations and assumptions continue to clash with the reality of who he is. Jacques’s character develops, to a large degree, as a result of questioning and pushing back against conventions—starting with the difficult relationship with his father, whose attempts at control nearly destroy him.
As we read on, we gradually see that the story of the friendship between Jacques and Daniel is, in fact, a subplot. The larger story is centered around the Thibault family—particularly the two brothers, Jacques and Antoine, their fragile bond, and their relationships with their father.
Du Gard’s attentiveness to fleeting moments of understanding and genuine sympathy create many bittersweet scenes that, for me, are unique to this novel (e.g., when we read: “For a brief moment their laughter filled the room. They had found once again and quite by chance that forgotten world they shared as brothers.”)
The middle portion describes Antoine’s rise in society through his successful medical practice, as well as his romantic entanglements that are mixed with his pride. Through the perspective of Antoine, we also meditate on the concept of family itself (what it means to be a Thibault), we see how that concept changes for him, and we see how it shapes his outlook on himself and the future.
On the surface, the Thibaults and the du Fontanins seem so different, beginning with the fact that the Thibaults are Catholic, while the du Fontanins are Protestant, with tensions arising from that religious divide. But as we continue reading, du Gard gradually shows parallels between the two families, particularly in the realm of family politics. The theme, “the head of the family,” for example, shows up in different points in the story for the two families, but we can detect remarkable similarities between them.
Reading The Thibaults was a deeply moving—and of course rewarding!—experience. Its multi-layered narrative raises questions about identity, family, difference, acceptance, and control, that are still relevant. Du Gard treats these themes masterfully, situating them within the broader historical and social context. He invites us to think about how private lives within a family could be related to the public world. At its heart, the novel deals with the question of peace—a restless quest—which feels closely tied to du Gard’s purpose in devoting 18 years to this masterwork and the impact he hoped it would have on his readers.