Relationships are tricky. But even the touchiest of husbands would probably think twice before walking out on a wife just because there was no bread in the house. This is exactly what happens, or at least what appears to happen, in Darrieussecq's eerie second novel. Considering that her first, the hilariously grotesque and surreal Pig Tales (1996) in which the narrator, a game massage girl, gradually turns into a pig, this is a dark, rather sombre and utterly unexpected book. It also confirms that however strange her vision is, this confident young French writer is an original. It is also extremely ambitious. The cool, detached narrative voice proves an effective foil to what is an intense, highly cerebral analysis of the true nature of love. Physical sensation takes the place of emotions throughout and the exactness of the language is unnerving. As time passes and her husband fails to return, the narrator finds herself grieving more for the space he once occupied rather than for the actual man. Janet Stevenson's stylish translation creates an atmosphere of calm despair, which in turn yields to the narrator's awareness of her own detachment as she floats between layers of denial and acceptance.
