I don't read much, so this may not say much, either, but this is my favourite novel. (I only read it in a Dutch translation.)

This short novel, by the German author Patrick Süskind, relates the life of a person with an extraordinary sense of smell, in 17th century France.

Sensory experiences are described with incredible vivacity. Not just smell, but also the senses of touch and lust - described, aptly, as a smell - really come to life in a way I've never seen anywhere else. It's so evocative, it turns me back into the being of sense I once was, putting the being of reason aside I have since become.

Unfortunately, the last part - that is, in the description of gwenllian below, everything after the second paragraph - seems uninspired and would be better left unread. It always seemed to me that the author felt obliged to put these marvellous descriptions of sensory experience together into a plot line and didn't know how to conclude it.