This book needs a heads up: it’s going to hurt. Because you start to ponder. About yourself. And about your own relationship.
Elisabeth and Jack met in Chicago in 1993. She, a psychology student from a good family, he, a ragged artist type, “thin as a junkie.” They live opposite each other and watch each other secretly. When they meet by chance in a club, his first words are simple but accurate: “Are you coming?” After a few dates it is clear to them: “It’s love, they think. That’s what it feels like.” The getting-to-know-you phase, which US author Nathan Hill describes very well, could last forever – the lurking for each other, the big tingling sensation, it’s transferred when you read. But things can’t go on like this. Of course not.
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