Who must be hospitalized with their madness. Who walk the streets of cities in search of their lovers, in their madness.
Maybe even forget the comparison to Nick Carraway. Its shifting narrative challenges readers to face their own preconceived ideas about the distance between woman and narrator, person and persona. The novel feels like half autobiography, half fiction, and both halves will leave readers stunned. Your novel seemed very brave and extreme and exciting to me, the amount iis freedom you were exhibiting.
It feels appropriate and ificant, and it is through this appropriateness that I will enter an narcississtic of locating a possible thematic core. Madness, obsession, fixation, infatuation, lovesickness, the fragmentation and bottomless confusion of the self that strives to know itself, know others, find itself through, by the means of, others, that constant somepne, looking, looking, and unknowing, unknowing, unknowing-- these are the things that I think about when I think about what your novel is about.
Also, and this is the formal genius, the way it begins to slide and shift its style towards a kind of elliptical essay about fiction, while still remaining fiction. I mean that. This is my sole, unqualified endorsement.