The Paris Express – Emma Donoghue (2025)

The Paris Express by Emma Donoghue, published in 2025, is a richly imagined historical novel set aboard a single ill-fated train journey on October 22, 1895. Drawing inspiration from the real Montparnasse derailment, Donoghue crafts a compelling, minute-by-minute ensemble narrative that follows a diverse set of passengers aboard the Granville-to-Paris express. The novel becomes a vivid microcosm of fin-de-siècle France, weaving together themes of class, gender, race, and fate, all under the mounting tension of an impending disaster.

Plot Summary

At half past eight on a brisk October morning in 1895, the Paris Express hisses gently on the tracks of Granville station, its sleek form cloaked in veils of steam, preparing to slice through the French countryside toward the capital. The passengers begin to board – each one trailing a private purpose, a secret, or a hope, their fates unknowingly stitched together by the movement of time and steel.

Mado Pelletier, sharp-eyed and resolute, stands outside the station in a boxy jacket and tie, watching. She clutches a metal lunch pail and resists the pull of uncertainty. Her appearance draws sneers – too masculine for some, too defiant for others. She has spent years saving and planning for this day. What she carries in her satchel is dangerous, and what she carries in her heart is unspoken. Across the street, a little boy mirrors her stillness. Maurice Marland, seven and a half, is making his first solo journey to Dreux, where his father will collect him. His mind teems with wonder and worry, entranced by the mystery of the train’s inner time, its clocks wound five minutes slow to protect the dawdlers.

Jean Le Goff, junior guard with a proud moustache and practiced hands, sees them both, but notes no reason for alarm. He ushers passengers aboard with a smile that masks calculation. His older colleague, Léon Mariette, moves with less patience and more principle, every check a ritual of discipline. He climbs to his birdcage lookout with the weight of responsibility resting neatly between his shoulders.

In the belly of the engine, driver Guillaume Pellerin and stoker Victor Garnier stand shoulder to shoulder. One smooths speed, the other manages fire, both enduring the rhythmic suffering of blistered chests and scalded hands. They speak in nods and grunts, an unbroken trust forged over years. Today’s journey is expected to be fast but smooth – or smooth but fast, depending on who asks.

Old Blonska, hunched and wool-wrapped, boards with the resilience of a woman who has outlasted war, poverty, and pity. She sleeps in doorways to save francs, knits by feel, and keeps a hundred francs tucked in her corset for her own burial. Life has pared her to the bone, but her eyes are sharp, her mind sharper. She takes her place among Third Class’s smells and rattles, content to listen and observe.

Farther back, in a quiet Second-Class compartment, Henry Ossawa Tanner stares out the window. The American painter, exiled from a country that despised his skin, feels uneasy even here, in the supposedly free land of France. He reflects on the transient beauty beyond the glass – hawthorn bushes, pear trees, villages blurred by speed. Inside him brews a different journey – the challenge of painting divinity in lion-flecked darkness, the courage of Daniel, the prayer of a man surrounded by beasts.

In the same class, Irishman John Millington Synge jots furiously in his notebook, eyes flicking from face to face. A theatre-minded wanderer drawn to folklore and human oddity, Synge is crammed beside lace-makers, hawkers, and daydreamers. His attention lingers on Annah Lamor, a young woman with a monkey on her shoulder and a hat stitched with dead birds. She’s part performer, part survivor, her every glance a performance. Her flirtation is defiant, her wit sharp. Beside her, an infant with a bound skull suckles at a breast. Nearby, two colonial students sip coffee brewed from the back of a human samovar, exchanging philosophies with ease.

The train slices through Normandy, past cows and codfish towns, hawthorn-guarded cottages, and men with saucepans strapped to their backs. Conversations bubble in third-class – arguments about oysters, the rights of porters, and politics shared with winks and spit. In the rear, the First-Class compartment is draped in velvet and hush. Marcelle de Heredia, heavily pregnant, stares from her plush seat at the green-gold fields, her thoughts far from comfort. Her father, a Cuban-Catalan sugar magnate, married her into a family of intellectuals. Her husband wants her to mother a nation. She wants to decide her own fate. The foal outside the window, the church steeples flickering past – these are her only companions.

Each passenger believes they are on a simple journey. To work, to family, to lovers, to destiny. But time aboard the Express is a different thing. Clocks lie by design. Assumptions wobble. Even the metal underfoot can betray.

At 4:00 p.m., the train hurtles toward its final halt at Paris-Montparnasse. Guillaume and Victor have done all they can, pushing the engine past her best, reclaiming every minute lost to delays. The guards watch for signals, passengers gather belongings, the city begins to rise like a specter at the end of the track.

But a miscalculation waits in the heart of Paris. A brake too late, a speed too great. The train does not stop. She crashes through the buffer, shatters the glass façade of the station, and plunges nose-first into the street below. Stone, iron, and steam erupt. The passengers tumble into chaos – bruised, bloodied, bewildered. Some walk away. Some do not.

Mado, flung through the wreckage, finds herself still clutching the satchel. Whether her mission was completed, none can say. Maurice emerges from the mangled car, his ticket still in his pocket, his thoughts broken into fragments of coffee, clocks, and fire. Annah limps past the smoking ruin with her monkey clinging tighter than ever. Marcelle, bruised and silent, feels the child inside her still kicking. Blonska, blood streaking her shawl, chuckles at the foolishness of trying to cheat time.

Smoke lingers as the wounded gather, as names are read, as headlines print. The Express has arrived. Too fast. Too late. And all who rode her now carry the mark of that dark descent from speed into silence.

Main Characters

• Mado Pelletier – A determined, androgynously dressed young woman from Paris who is on a secret mission. Fiercely independent and opposed to traditional gender roles, Mado represents the tension between societal expectations and personal identity. Her steely resolve and hidden motives make her one of the most enigmatic and driving figures in the story.

• Maurice Marland – A bright and precocious seven-year-old boy traveling alone to reunite with his father. Maurice brings innocence and wonder to the narrative. His fascination with trains and the small details of the journey reflects the childlike lens through which he processes a world that often feels too large and unpredictable.

• Jean Le Goff – The junior guard, a shrewd, good-humored railwayman who takes pride in the small powers and rituals of his role. He’s a working-class everyman, performing his duties with a blend of showmanship and practicality while subtly navigating the railway hierarchy.

• Victor Garnier and Guillaume Pellerin – The stoker and driver of Engine 721. Lifelong colleagues with a brotherly bond, they symbolize the dedication and grit of industrial laborers. Victor’s pride in his work contrasts with the constant pressure to deliver speed without compromising safety.

• Elise Blonska – An elderly, stoic Polish émigré with sharp wit and a philosophical view on life. Blonska is a figure of endurance and self-denial, embodying a life lived through hardship and service. Her quiet insights add depth to the social commentary of the novel.

• Henry Ossawa Tanner – A real historical figure and African American painter seeking refuge in France. His introspective narrative explores themes of racial identity, artistic purpose, and alienation. Tanner’s presence connects the fictional world with real cultural and political undercurrents of the time.

• John Millington Synge – Another historical figure, the Irish playwright travels Third Class, absorbing stories and observing humanity. Timid yet curious, Synge’s artistic eye captures the novel’s ethnographic richness and emphasizes its literary texture.

• Annah Lamor – A flamboyant, streetwise performer with a monkey on her shoulder, traveling Third Class despite her extravagant appearance. Annah is bold and unapologetic, her vibrant character a colorful contrast to the more restrained passengers. Her exchanges with Synge offer levity and sharp social insight.

• Marcelle de Heredia – A young First-Class passenger, pregnant and reflective, burdened by the expectations of her prestigious family. Marcelle wrestles with questions of marriage, class, and autonomy, providing a feminine perspective from within privilege.

Theme

• Fate and Mortality – From the outset, the novel builds toward an inevitable catastrophe. The ticking clock structure mirrors the inexorable advance of time, and the looming derailment becomes a metaphor for the fragility of life. Each character’s awareness or ignorance of this fate enhances the poignancy of their personal arcs.

• Class Stratification – The train is a literal and symbolic structure of social hierarchy. Passengers are segregated by class, and their comforts, opportunities, and perspectives reflect the rigid societal divisions of the era. Donoghue exposes these disparities while also allowing moments of cross-class connection and tension.

• Modernity vs. Tradition – The train journey itself represents progress, speed, and modern life. Yet many characters are steeped in traditional values or rooted in past traumas. The contrast between technological advancement and human fallibility serves as a cautionary exploration of what modernity promises versus what it delivers.

• Gender and Identity – Through characters like Mado, Annah, and Marcelle, the novel interrogates the roles imposed on women and challenges the binary expectations of gender. Mado’s rejection of femininity, Annah’s performative sensuality, and Marcelle’s internal conflict over motherhood all highlight the constraints and resistance of women at the time.

• Art and Observation – Synge and Tanner embody the theme of artistic interpretation, offering different lenses through which to view the world. Their need to record, sketch, or understand what they witness underscores the human desire to make sense of chaos and beauty.

Writing Style and Tone

Emma Donoghue’s writing in The Paris Express is distinguished by its cinematic immediacy and polyphonic structure. She employs close third-person narration that rotates among a dozen passengers and crew members, each chapter unfolding in real-time across precise stops of the train’s journey. Her prose balances historical texture with emotional intimacy, creating layered, authentic voices for each character. The novel’s structure is meticulous, a clockwork narrative that tightens with each passing page, building suspense while offering snapshots of an entire society in motion.

Donoghue’s tone is observational yet compassionate, allowing space for humor, irony, and melancholy. She imbues the novel with a journalistic precision reminiscent of Zola, yet she also invokes the lyricism and depth of Woolf or Sebald. Her attention to period detail is extraordinary – the smells, sights, and mechanics of 1895 French railway life are rendered vividly without overwhelming the story. Ultimately, the tone of The Paris Express is one of quiet foreboding, laced with moments of tenderness, insight, and tragedy.