First, a quick note: 'Plaisirs d'auto' here doesn't mean 'pleasures of the car.' In the context of Michel Corday's 1920s France, 'auto' refers to the self. This book is a series of vignettes and short stories about the private joys people indulge in when they are truly by themselves.

The Story

There isn't one single plot. Instead, Corday acts as a guide, introducing us to a gallery of characters from Parisian life. We meet a respectable businessman who secretly writes passionate, terrible poetry. There's a society woman who sheds her elegant clothes to garden in mud-stained overalls when she thinks no one can see. A clerk finds profound happiness in meticulously organizing his stamp collection, a world he controls completely. Each story is a snapshot of a hidden life, a small rebellion against the public face everyone must wear.

Why You Should Read It

Corday has a fantastic eye for the small, telling detail. He doesn't judge his characters; he observes them with a warm, sometimes ironic smile. Reading this feels like peeking through a keyhole into a hundred different rooms. It's less about dramatic events and more about the quiet freedom of solitude. It made me think about my own little private habits—the silly song I sing when doing dishes, the way I arrange my books when no one's home. The book celebrates those harmless secrets that make us who we are.

Final Verdict

This is a perfect book for a quiet afternoon. It's for readers who enjoy character studies over action, and for anyone curious about social history and human nature. If you like authors who find the extraordinary in the ordinary, like a French version of a quieter E.F. Benson or a less cynical Maupassant, you'll appreciate Corday's gentle wit. It's a charming, forgotten gem that feels surprisingly modern in its focus on selfhood and identity.