I think this quote from the protaganist on page 71 says it all: "It is a sweet relief being certain that no living soul will ever set eyes on what I have been scribbling away at, down here." (oh, if only it were true)

Reading this novel is the equivalent of dieting exclusively on white bread.

Error: the maps of Paris on the inside covers are reversed, that is, North is to the bottom of the page (and unmarked).

mclarjh's rating:
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