This book didn’t seem to have the normal climactic format that I had expected, which is perhaps why it is considered a piece of literature and not popular fiction. The book as a whole read rather flatly, without much action or drama, a fact lending itself to its rather autobiographical nature. It was nonetheless, very beautifully written. The book seemed more poetic in composition and most certainly more emotionally intense than perhaps would be expected. In is in fact the poetic sentiments and composition of the book that keep the reader so engaged into what would otherwise be a rather depressing work. It is ironic that a work that seems to focus so much on the reality of life would at the same time evoke a romanticism of feeling and words which it would normally criticize. That too also seems to be the conflict Paul Morel finds within himself.