A slight first novel -- the modifier not intended as disparagement but rather as an indication of its mortality, however well it retains your sympathetic interest for an evening. The maze of the title is a configuration of culs de sac and dead ends -- particularly for Rosy during her long marriage (if that's what it is) to Benjamin Bold, a bush-league poet who's still playing stickball when it comes to life.... He's exploitatively dependent, childish, self-indulgent, and between winters in Cambridge, Mass., and summers in Europe, usually Rome, has a constant entourage of willing, adulating women and girls. While they live in a succession of pensiones and bed-and-breakfast rooms. Rosy is not only dispossessed but trapped -- until a stay in London when she is hospitalized for a bad back so that Benjamin, deprived of his dependency, hardly comes near her and she reaches the decision she should have made years before.... Eileen Simpson, whose annotations of people are astute and whose touch is sure, writes well, even if it's all over before you can say subito.