The idea here is very compelling - to oversimplify, a series of interior vignettes, absent context.

But I wasn’t able to connect with it at all. The translated prose read as clunky and affected. I understand that these are internal states, rendered to some extent in each character's voice, but I wasn’t able to find a way in. 

Maybe a translation issue, maybe a me issue. A lot of very smart people love Sarraute’s writing, so I'm sure it's the latter. I’ll try one of her novels and then revisit.