Imagine "Fight Club" as a love story without an iota of violence and then have the film directed by Godard, Alain Resnais or Jean-Pierre Melville in the early 60s and you'd have this novel. It is a love story, sure, but it's also a fascinating exploration of the self, what the self is in relation to one loved, vice versa, and the relation of imagination and the creative impulse to love. Competing points of view, one of which is dubious, detail, in journal form, the wonderful, violent (not that kind of violent), and virulent love affair of Sarab Affan, a twenty-something girl with several personalities and a penchant for living all of them actively, often at the same people, and Nael Imran, a famous author, thirty years her senior. I've read one other novel by Jibran and liked it quite a bit, and this one is even better. It's a refreshing, thoughtful reminder that it's okay to think about love, it's even more okay to fuck about with its nuances, even if that warrants institutionalization.
Before reading this amazing book, I was dealing with Lacan's theories and he insists that a person can never ever get what he desires but he can get what he needs; well Sarab proves him wrong. she desired a love that would consume her and she got it she desired the impossible and she got it she desired a struggle and she got it she desired a journey and she got it she desired a life time story and she got it
so, I can say you can get what you desire and you can get what you need.