The Body, She Says, Is Subject To

Alternatives, And Particularly Desirable Alternatives, Grow Only On Imaginary Trees.

A Novel Is Balanced Between A Few True Impressions And The Multitude Of False Ones That Make Up Most Of What We Call Life. It Tells Us That For Every Human Being There Is A Diversity Of Existences, That The Single Existence Is Itself An Illusion In Part, That These Many Existences Signify Something, Tend To Something, Fulfill Something; It Promises Us Meaning, Harmony, And Even Justice.

How Could I Be Anything But A Dissenter? Who Wants The Opinion Of A Group?

I Have, Perhaps, A Slave-like Constitution Which Is Too Easily Restrained By Bonds; It Then Becomes Rebellious And Bursts Out In A Comic Revolution.

... An Era Of Turmoil And Ideological Confusion, The Principal Phenomenon Of The Present Age.