I kept thinking I had read this, but really I think I was thinking of Alias Grace. In any case, I’m glad I have now. It took me a little while to get into it, but overall, I love the literary conceit of mise en abime, and the more levels one can work into a novel, the better, I think. And there are three levels here, or four, really, one sort of only referred to in passing, perhaps. But it’s an engaging portrait of an era, captured through lush descriptions of manner and dress, as well as the heartbreak of misplaced love and lust – for persons, for money, for whatever.
The characters are the beautifully flawed but entirely likeable sort Atwood favours, except for her villans, who are not so much portrayed as vile as dismissed. And a bittersweet ending, like life, instead of books.

Well worth its place on all those lists of bests.