If you've ever been passionately obsessed with someone to the point of complete distraction for what turns out to be no good reason, such that when it's over you have almost ceased to exist (and may even have to rebuild a world in which to resume your existence), and it is all you can do to look at your own reflection without instantly expiring from despair or shame or sheer fury . . . well, you probably want to read this. If for no other reason, to be amazed by Ernaux's succinct and searing examination of what so often, and annoyingly, is viewed through rose-colored lenses and reduced to sap. Or turns to shit and cynicism. To find, as Ernaux does, that you can come to terms with yourself and your passion without getting mired in sap or shit is liberating. Sans the excuses and pretty lies, she emerges truer to herself and more at home back in the real world.