Not a conventional novel so much as a series of prose poems/essays linked together on a theme, which is the concept of war stretched to encompass all aspects of life. Everything, from the light of a lightbulb to motorway traffic, expands to become an assault on the senses, a constant attack from which no peaceful escape or respite is possible. One effect of this is to make war normal and so ineradicable, to show it as sewn into every moment of life. There is no plot of any kind, and no characters, with only a couple of recurring, virtually anonymous figures (Bea B. and Monsieur X) cropping up fairly regularly. I enjoyed this. I found that I faded in and out of it a little, but the parts that grabbed me were excellent, there was some superb writing, a lot of real insight and humour too. For an ostensibly difficult book it was easy to read, and entertaining. ( )