A succession of conversations between a writer called Philip and a woman in a frustrating marriage. It is difficult to understand how the two are connected. Sometimes they seem to be lovers, sometimes not. The female protagonist changes at one point, becoming Philip’s wife, upset because she has read Philip’s notes and thinks he is being unfaithful. Then, some time later, again, conversations with the first women, who is now in New York. A confusing read where the time and place are not precisely mentioned, nor is the person talking. A bit long-winded.
“I used to tell my students that you don’t need three men to go through what she does. One will usually fill the bill, as Rodolphe, then Léon, then Charles Bovary. First the rapture and the passion. All the voluptuous sins of the flesh. In his bondage. Swept away. After the torrid scene up at his château, combing your hair with his comb – and so on. Unbearable love with the perfect man who does everything beautifully. Then, with time, the fantastical lover erodes into the workaday lover, the practical lover – becomes a Léon, a rube after all. The tyranny of the actual begins.”