The spa where Guy Dion (captain of industry, ""Governor"" to his family) finds himself reluctantly (after one day against his will) is almost as elegant as the country club where he fell down. One drink too many? Perhaps a little overworked? But then of course he doesn't belong here with all those other formerly prominent bluebloods running around in their bathrobes. Even if the doctors refuse to let him leave and his wife doesn't come to get him. And even if he hears things in the night and sees things (a hearse) -- is he really ""riddled with morbidity"" (they say) and afraid to face the past? The present is just as bad -- a forbidden tryst with a girl in the Annex whom he had once loved -- she now has dentures; his escape home where everything is going, going, gone. . . even the opportunity to atone. Hoffman's novel is almost as deceptive as that so-called retreat -- it seems so easy, straightforward, almost slick that you don't realize until it's almost all over that there's no exit and that he's really burying a man (not only his dreams, his traditions, but his attachments etc.) alive. Somewhere between curiosity and sympathy he'll take you with him.