Unbelievable that this book could be thought to be any good. It is so easy to see how Page's mind works: he has to think about everything he encounters until he makes a witty paradoxical observation about it, and that "solves" the thing, and makes it available for clever conversation or novel writing.

On McDonald's in Paris: "Fast-food places were now the only welcoming, lively environments that were open to the people. It was depressing."

On the fountains in Paris: "Virgil had spent his life thirsty; he had a vital need to live near a fountain."

On women's clothing: "Women and their clothing fascinated Virgil. They made him think of chameleons eternally searching for the color that would allow them to blend in with the world. This perpetual quest for a new look make them impossible to grasp."

This sort of life is enervating, depressing. To think that you have adequately responded to the world, and to people, by packaging them in ersatz surrealist clichés, is to entirely miss the fact that the world, and people, have depth and nuance. It's no wonder that Page is continuously inadvertently or carelessly praising himself by praising his protagonist's wit. And it's no wonder that Le Clézio likes this book. ( )

What would happen if you received a message from someone breaking up with you and you couldn’t remember ever that individual or a relationship of any kind? That’s the conundrum for neurotic advertising executive Virgil. This unsettling message, from a woman named Clara, sends Virgil on a two-week mission to find out if there’s something wrong with him and to also uncover details about the mysterious Clara. First, Virgil runs off in a panic to his psychiatrist with his answering machine in hand to get her take on what he feels is a colossal dilemma. He feels that he’s suffering from a dire condition; he has apparently erased all memories of Clara and in doing so his brain must be malfunctioning in some manner. Virgil has never been very successful with relationships.

The Discreet Pleasures of Rejection by Martin Page is unlike any novel I’ve read. Page has a unique style and perspective that he infuses throughout the pages [perhaps because he’s French]. I found myself laughing and wanting to share passages with friends. There’s a peculiar absurdity in the story and Virgil is quite the character. He’s analytical, successful in business but not in his personal life, and befriends the hookers on his block. Virgil remains quite particular and has a penchant for retro things: black and white films, records, and an orange Bic with a black point. The Discreet Pleasures of Rejection is a refreshing novel that provides an astute commentary on navigating the dating world. The end result proves to be both hilarious and sardonic. ( )