Sonya Arcone wrote an earlier novel The Golden Hammer (1963) which may not have been any better than this but certainly was more interesting. The problem here is one of narrative inertia and the story as such is freighted if not overburdened with a great deal of thinking, feeling, remembering. The past crops up like crabgrass. In the present, Eva is both bored and irritated by her marriage of six years to Matt Sylvester, a very isolated, insulated character. She falls in love with her director, Robert (she had been on the stage as a child; she is avoiding its challenge now by doing television scripts) and Robert feels that she should think of her child and her career first. He also wants to avoid involvement with little Joey since he has memories of a stepfather resented. On and on it goes until all is happily resolved and reconciled... A woman's novel, by no means subtle but reasonably sophisticated; Marguerite Young's endorsement ""incandescent of lyric style, radiant of imagery"" is as inapt as it is inept.