With this story of a tragic romance, as told by a father to his comatose teenage daughter, Italian actress and novelist Mazzantini plays with the choices people make as they construct narratives, especially what they remember and tell in times of crisis. The decision to frame the narrative as a fathers confession makes for an odd conceit, considering the lurid details the protagonist shares about his sex life with both his wife and lover. Timoteo is a successful surgeon with a distant relationship with his beautiful wife and a sexually obsessive relationship with his mistress, Italia. He is selfish and capricious (he meets with Italia just hours after his daughter Angelas birth), but he also exhibits flashes of lucidity that make him an engaging if maddening narrator. Youve learned more about me from my absences, my books, my raincoat in the hall, than you have from my flesh-and-blood self, he tells his unconscious daughter, Angela. Mazzantini keeps the plot moving, shifting quickly between Timoteos memories and his agonizing wait during Angelas surgery. Too often, though, her prose is overwrought and clumsy: Timoteo relates that his lovers tears burned [him] like lava, and describes himself waiting in the hospital after Angelas birth like a moth thats been trapped in a room too long... its wings as heavy as cork. Timoteos honesty offsets the turgid writing in this enjoyable if somewhat awkward novel, as he traces the trajectory of the sordid relationship that still haunts him, from the viscid pleasure in its illicit sex to its predictable aftermath.