I admired this book greatly, but my heart was not engaged. I don't recall what you've observed, the sense that traditional ideas about women and creativity were unchallenged; I just remember that the novel seemed to focus, above all, on absence and loss, on the feeling of something missing.

For structure, thematic layering, and the intricacy of its interconnections, I remain in awe of what she accomplished (I read it in a single day, and took a ridiculous number of notes for all the interconnections), but I don't think I will re-read it, whereas I would re-read The History of Love with just a nudge in its direction.

I wholly enjoyed reading your thoughts on it; it's nice to feel a book loosely ebb back to you as it's discussed in such attentive detail.