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She has learned over the years that sanity involves a certain measure of impersonation, not simply for the benefit of husband & servants but for the sake, first & foremost, of one’s own convictions. She is the author; the others are the readers. This particular novel concerns a serene, intelligent woman of painfully susceptible sensibilities who once was ill but has now recovered; who is preparing for the season in London, where she will give & attend parties, write in the mornings & read in the afternoons, lunch with friends, dress perfectly. There is true art in it, this command of tea & dinner tables; this animating correctness. The Hours by Michael Cunningham

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