Der Text lebt von seinem schillernden Figurenensemble. Jeder Charakter ist interessant und fällt immer mal wieder aus dem Handlungsrahmen. Dadurch entsteht zusätzlich zu der Film-Noir-Anfangsszene (zwei schöne Menschen sitzen in einem schnellen Auto, sprechen über die Bedeutung des Lebens und rasen durch südfranzösische Küstenabschnitte) ein zusätzlicher Thrill, der sich im weiteren Handlungsverlauf mal verdichtet, nur um dann zu verschwinden und später wuchtig zurückzukehren. Der Text changiert dadurch zwischen leichter Sommerfrische und düsterem Kammerspiel. Levys Sprache glänzt erneut durch Poesie (Anders als in anderen Romanen wirken die Dichter*innen-Figuren auch wie solche, die ihr Handwerk wirklich ausüben) und ihre allwissende Erzählerin schaut den einzelnen Menschen tief in die Herzen, um dort das Versteckte und Unzugängliche zu finden. Der Schluss war phänomenal. „Early humans had once lived in this forest that was now a road. They knew the past lived in rocks and trees and they knew desire made them awkward, mad, mysterious, messed up. To have been so intimate with Kitty Finch had been a pleasure, a pain, a shock, an experiment, but most of all it had been a mistake. He asked her again to please, please, please drive him safely home to his wife and daughter. ‘Yes’, she said. ‘Life is only worth living because we hope it will get better and we’ll all get home safely.’ “Couples were always keen to return to the task of trying to destroy their lifelong partners while pretending to have their best interests at heart.” “She was not a poet. She was a poem. She was about to snap in half. He thought his own poetry had made her la la la la love him. It was unbearable. He could not bear it.” “She told him she would have liked to feel his love fall upon her like rain. That was the kind of rain she most longed for in their long unconventional marriage.”