Doubtless these are inconsequential perplexities. Still, inconsequential perplexities have now and again been known to become the fundamental mood of existence, one suspects.

This novel may suffer from the Bernhard Disorder, which might frighten many readers. The Disorder is revealed by the tics and recursions which predominate. This particular iteration benefits from a boundless charm. Perhaps I should place that charm within quotes, as the premise is anything but overtly glib. I won't spoil that but the web of references and allusions are allowed to distort and in other cases diminish and tighten--spawning a set of different realities, most of which are terrifying. Yet this sense-making , this bricolage she even quotes, is mesmerizing. Perhaps this soliloquy is a testament to mortal ends and untimely madness? The novel regardless is a rearrangement of the Western Tradition but the fact one can envision both the logic of the permutations as well as the consequences of such is in itself an endorsement of this literary achievement.