Despite all the good reasons to find this unbearable book (he is young, he is rich - not personally, but it's the same thing - it does not do much, he says I, I, I ...) I must have loved him enough. Something touched me in this false casualness, that half will to write the narrator-character. The melancholy of a Paris party. A youth ... There was more than enough to make a beautiful novel, but would it have been more successful than the holes newspaper, truncated? Not sure ...
