This irritant is a non-novel with the neo-mannerisms some of the vanguard French writers have playfully improvised to conceal the fact that they have absolutely nothing to say. This one indulges in perversities of punctuation spaces like this--unnecessary (elliptical) parentheses-- and distracting dashes--which must have driven some poor type-setter to another kind of font. Then when Miss Molinaro really wants to Jolt her readers out of their inevitable inattention she gives with relationship-defying possessives: ""Because your living wife's dead sister's doctor has left."" Before we left, we did manage to find out that nothing really happens in the time before and during a family reunion as recorded by (a) a son whose mother has Just died who has fonder Oedipal memories of his aunt and his father's Cuban mistress (b) his parrot (c) his uncle who has just ""outraged"" his dead mother (d) his Bostonian wife who tipples in rose.... The novel has been termed ""pornosophic"" by the author since it is both pornography and philosophy. We found very little trace of the former and no evidence of the latter.