A really astounding novella. The psychological density on display moves like streams. So much loneliness. The present presents the collision of the fear of the past, of time neglected, and the fear of the future, of time to be neglected. So much of this felt rather gay, like a beard relationship, although the final paragraph points to something more heteronormative. But that could also be read as a continued anxiety about gay life, the necessity of assimilation.

Go in as blind as possible! It's lovely. Henry James' winding sentences are pearls on a thread.