If you've ever felt like you're going to lose your mind over someone who already packed their stuff and left, you need to read Lettres portugaises. I say 'need' because this book feels less like a story and more like a confession you accidentally opened.

The Story

The title's a door into a 17th-century soap opera. A Portuguese nun named Mariana writes five letters to her boyfriend, a French soldier who famously slept with her then skipped back to Europe. In these letters, she goes from throwing herself at his mercy (maybe if, begging works, he'll love her) to planning revenge, then back to blaming herself. It starts with, 'Shut up, I'm not writing—but oh, I can't shut up' and ends with her facing total silence. Spoiler: there’s no happy ending.

Why You Should Read It

This book's only 50ish pages long but carries or twists for generations. Here's what surprises: You're reading centuries-old letters, but Mariana’s anger feels like a toxic ex's text at 2 AM. She's smart, contradictory, obsessed, driving us all with how this might fix things. Is she lovesick or just lonely? Are we seeing a woman defending a shadow relationship, or is this a wake-up call of wanting too much? That weird part is a man named Guilleragues wrote the book, faking her voice—so we're reading loving in an echo. Is any of her love true, or each word is a masterwork of ego? That doubt sticks with you makes tragedy even deeper.

Final Verdict

For lovers of love in training wheels (other hardcore romances). For boring people who complain about old books: this thing is under 80 pages, you got no excuse. Lovers lit majors want geeking on. Extreme caution: it might make you cry or make you scream, 'She needs to block him!' So if vibes warning: intense. But that's the point: Mariana yells across centuries, and you can't help leaning all the line. Perfect for history-laced crushes, early novel-geekish calls who want something hot other castles.