It is well known that Zelda was always jealous of the success of her husband. She quickly got the impression of being only the shadow of it. She has written several new borrowing the name of her husband to prove himself, to prove that he was not alone in the couple. She began to paint and I must say that I appreciate his works though obvious that his mental problems déteignaient on his canvases. Tables made in the psychiatric center are revealing in this regard. The earlier paintings are very different. What can I criticize the book she wrote under his own name? Not much ... But if she wanted to approach the stylistic perfection of her husband, the goal is not reached. In fact, I would arrange to spare me well this novel if it had not been translated. The translator has destroyed the work in the weighting. He manipulates the imperfect subjunctive with a certain virtuosity, but this grammatical unpacking (what joy to strictly follow the rules of the sequence of tenses ...) turns the work into a stodgy brick. I hope that Zelda will not mind that we are Francophones.