Gradually Aaliya, the woman in question, reveals her history, the effects of her short and fruitless (in more ways than one) marriage, her unpleasant family that she barely has anything to do with, and the city of Beirut, which has been bombed, fought over, shot at, destroyed and rebuilt more times than you can imagine.
All this is entwined with quotations and thoughts from writers, artists and musicians: some familiar, many not. All of them are, in a sense, her friends, since she has no human friends; her one true friend, Hannah, died long before the book begins.
Alameddine achieves a remarkable thing: a book that appears to be unstructured and full of side paths, and yet is put together in such a way that when you reach the end, with its ''epiphany'' coming out of what might have been a disaster, you feel satisfied with his approach to storytelling and the shape of the book.
Take it as it comes, and enjoy Alameddine's insights into Beirut and its people, and the endearing company of one of the most original characters to turn up in recent literature.
- Mike Crowl is a Dunedin writer, musician and composer.
