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I thought that this book would be good as a salacious, voyeuristic romp. I was completely wrong. Barbusse uses his main character's voyeurism as a rare look into the heart of what it means to be human--what we are like when no one is looking, and to reveal the ultimate truth: that no matter how close we are to one another, we are ultimately alone. Beautifully written, it takes place in the shadows of evening, the cracks of light that enter a room through a heavy curtain.