This is relatively early Moravia, dating from 1952, and it has a sincerity and sobriety I find lacking in his later books, which tend to fall back on a set formula of sex and pessimism. The 1950s and early 1960s were the era when writers worshipped at the fashionable Temple of Despair, and much or most of this has dated badly. However, though it has areas of melodrama and professional slickness, the novel is psychologically convincing, even though most of the characters are unpleasant, as is the (probably accurate) picture of Italian Fascism.