Scintillatingly stylish grownup stories about lives and relationships fragmented in the wake of World War II. There's something almost hyper about the way Gallant's narratives effloresce and claim new terrain — one minute our supposed POV character is overhearing a conversation, next minute that conversation is revealing a whole hidden world behind or adjacent to the main story. Plots are plotless, like life; the meaning is all in the experience. It's literary pointillism done in a playful and occasionally very moving way, but to be taken in small doses. I shudder to think what a whole novel of this would be like.
