On first reading this book may seem quite pointless and even pompous, therefore I thought it helpful to suggest a better method of approach. The genius of this book lies in Laine's aim of dissipating the novel form, showing that literature does not have to be a traditional novel to be worthy of literary stature. He spits in the face of the 'author as God' approach, constantly reminding that this is just a story he concocted, never attempting to draw us into another world. It is more an in depth study of Pomme and her relationship (however twisted!)with Marylene and Aimery, of whom both manage use and abuse her simplistic innocence after being drawn in by her mysterious self. He knows his characters intimately, which comes across in their every description. Their behaviour, no matter how bizarre it seems at first, is shockingly believable within the parameters of their moulded personas. This book is both irritating and inspiring and Laine certainly taps into the soul of one of Art's biggest enigmas and encapsulates her beauty in his book; the Lacemaker.