November 2021: an inflatable dinghy carrying migrants from France to the UK capsizes in the Channel, resulting in the deaths of 27 people on board. How and why did it happen? 

Despite receiving numerous calls for help, the French authorities wrongly told the migrants they were in British waters and would need to call the British authorities for help. By the time rescue vessels arrived on the scene, all but two of the migrants had died.   

The narrator of Delecroix’s fictional account of the events is the woman who took the calls. Accused of failing in her duty, she refuses to be held more accountable than others for this disaster. Why should she be more responsible than the sea, than the war, than the crises behind these tragedies?   

A shocking, moral tale of our times, Small Boat reminds us of the power of fiction to illuminate our darkest moments.  

Small Boat was shortlisted for the International Booker Prize 2025.  

Operator 

The narrator is an unnamed radio operator who works for the French rescue services and was on duty on the night of the deaths in the Channel. She refuses to take the blame, but is disgraced by those around her, who seek to hold her accountable for the tragedy. The narrator is forced to confront her role within a faceless, unsympathetic system, and her moral responsibility in the face of human tragedy. 

Born in Paris, Vincent Delecroix is a French philosopher and writer. A graduate of the École normale supérieure, and agrégé of philosophy, he teaches at the École Pratique des Hautes Études.   

Delecroix received the Prix Valery Larbaud in 2007 for his novel Ce qui est perdu (published in 2006) and the Grand prix de littérature de l’Académie française after he published Tombeau d’Achille (in 2008). Small Boat is the first of his novels to be translated into English.  

Helen Stevenson studied Modern Languages at the University of Oxford, and has been translating literary texts from French to English for 25 years. 

Her translations include Black Moses by Alain Mabanckou (shortlisted for the International Booker Prize 2017), The Missing Piece by Antoine Bello and My Phantom Husband by Marie Darrieussecq. She is also a writer of novels including Mad Elaine and Love Like Salt; A Memoir.  

Stevenson spent much of her adult life, prior to Brexit, in France, in Ceret (Pyrenees Orientales) and Cajarc (Lot). She now lives in Somerset.  

Cal Revely-Calder, The Telegraph 

‘Delecroix is both a novelist and a Kierkegaard expert; both pursuits lend themselves to the imagination of ethics at crisis point. Think of Small Boat as a philosophical ghost story. […] Full marks to Helen Stevenson’s translation, understated yet alert, catching the to-and-fro of these vocal currents, as the interview rolls testily on. Where Delecroix’s coastguard recalls muttering to a colleague that the sinking migrants are “gonflés” (cheeky), and he quips back “dégonflés” (deflated), Stevenson renders the words as “cheeky” and “leaky”. The rhyme translates with unpleasant ease.’ 

How would you summarise this book in a sentence to encourage readers to pick it up?   

A brilliantly unflinching use of literature to ask the most uncomfortable but urgent question of our time: to what extent are we all complicit?   

Is there something unique about this book, something that you haven’t encountered in fiction before?   

This book doesn’t just set up a complex fictional situation to illuminate the greatest human crisis of our time, it puts us inside it. It shows us how it is already inside us, in our language, our feelings, our relationships to news, politics and each other.   

What do you think it is about this book that readers will not only admire, but really love?   

It has the power to fundamentally change the way we see the world. Readers love being changed! That’s why we read.   

Can you tell us about any particular characters that readers might connect with, and why?   

The genius of this book is the way we are revolted by the protagonist, then feel for her, then fear we can no longer deny the many ways we have become her.   

Although it’s a work of fiction, is there anything about it that’s especially relevant to issues we’re confronting in today’s world?   

This book unapologetically confronts the greatest moral question of our time: the collective responsibility of those in a place of safety to those who seek it. It is the literary antidote to tabloid ignorance, hatred and xenophobia.   

Is there one specific moment in the book that has stuck in your mind and, if so, why?  

The central section of the book, which describes a (real-life) tragedy in the Channel, is one of the most devastating and affecting sections of any book.   

‘The purpose was neither to formulate a moral judgement nor to just express loud and easy indignation. On the contrary, it was to suspend all moral judgement, and, by writing an imaginary character, to simply try to penetrate a consciousness that could belong to anyone.   

It’s an exploration of the mind. So, the point of view of the writing is strictly hers, except for a short central part that describes the wreckage as dispassionately as possible.   

What does it mean to be a spectator of the wreckage, as we all are? What does it mean to stand at this point, on the shore? How can anyone slip from a common and ordinary behaviour to a calm inhuman position? These were the main questions I wanted to raise, faced with a brutal and dreadful situation.’ 

Read the full interview here.  

‘We’re all so accustomed to reading news pieces about the migrant crossings, we have a way of reading them without really reading. Here was a fictional text that forced the reader to slow down. It raises painful questions about responsibility, about looking away. I remembered reading the news coverage, and seeing a documentary called The Crossing, in which a survivor of the sinking talked about that night – I rewatched it while I was translating. I was really struck by a phrase I read in This Tilting World by Colette Fellous – that the word translate literally means to ferry across.’ 

Read the full interview here. 

Small Boat is based on a real-life event from 2021, when a boat carrying 29 migrants sank in the Channel, resulting in the deaths of all but two. How does knowing that Small Boat is inspired by such a tragedy affect your reading of the story? Does it make the narrative feel more personal or urgent? 

The novel opens with an epigraph from the Roman poet and philosopher Lucretius: ‘Pleasant it is, when over a great sea the winds trouble the waters, to gaze from shore upon another’s great tribulation’. How does this quote set the tone for the novel? In what ways might it relate to the moral reflections explored through the story? 

Small Boat is written in an introspective and detached tone, often approaching stream-of-consciousness. Why do you think the author chose to write in this way? How did this style affect your connection to the narrator and the overall emotional impact of the story? 

‘I know people would have liked me to say: You’re not going to die, I’ll save you. And not because I would have actually saved them, done my job, done the necessary, sent rescue. Not because I’d done what you’re meant to do. They wanted me to have said it, at least to have said it, just to have said the words.’ Through her interrogation, the narrator realises that she is being asked not to save the lives of those in need, but to provide comfort for others. Does this revelation feel accurate? How does her perspective affect your understanding of her role and choices within the tragedy?  

The novel is structured in three parts, with the first and third sections focusing on the operator, and the middle section offering a more objective report of the migrants’ tragedy. How do these distinct sections work together to create a larger, overarching picture of the events? 

In an interview with the Booker Prizes website, author Vincent Delecroix stated that ‘the purpose was neither to formulate a moral judgment nor to express loud and easy indignation. On the contrary, it was to suspend all moral judgment and, by writing an imaginary character, simply try to penetrate a consciousness that could belong to anyone.’ Do you think the novel succeeds in suspending moral judgment, or can it not help but offer a critique of the main character’s choices? 

The Booker Prize 2025 judges said Small Boat was a ‘literary antidote to tabloid ignorance, hatred, and xenophobia.’ How do you think the novel challenges these issues and the rhetoric so commonly employed in some parts of the media? 

Some readers have commented on the novel acting as a parable for the West’s failure to address the migration crisis. Why, then, might the novel focus on the individual rather than on the institutions and collective systems involved? Do you believe the novel suggests that individuals can truly make a difference in such tragedies, or does it imply that we are all trapped within systems too large to change?   

Vincent Delecroix is a philosopher, having graduated from the École Normale Supérieure and earned the agrégation in philosophy. In what ways might the novel reflect his philosophical outlook on morality, responsibility, and the human condition? 

By refusing to provide clear answers or judgments, the novel concludes by leaving the reader to reflect on their own conscience. Discuss how you felt after finishing the book. Did you find yourself questioning your own responsibilities in the face of global crises? 

UN News: Drowning of 27 migrants in English Channel is worst disaster on record 

Wikipedia: English Channel migrant crossings (2018–present) 

Gov.uk: Small boat arrivals: last 7 days 

Standing Heavy by GauZ’, translated by Frank Wynne 

A Passage North by Anuk Arudpragasam 

The Year of the Runaways by Sunjeev Sahota 

The New Odyssey: The Story of Europe’s Refugee Crisis by Patrick Kingsley 

How Migration Really Works by Hein de Haas