Built more around imagery than plot line this book by the German born English writer Eva Figes is compelling in its own somewhat unusual way. Having read a hostile review on Amazon I set forward with some trepidation. What Figes is doing in one sense is examining what it is like for a person to grow old. She accomplishes this in several ways for instance her heroine sees herself becoming her mother as she remembers her as she grows older becoming more and more careful going down stairways and always lagging behind. In fact memory is what drives the book along as the nameless woman finds herself resorting to it more and more to keep a grasp on her reality--along with that comes Figes extraordinary and poetic use of language which help to describe a life seen through a series of vision-like fragments--reflections always pointing to the past. In some ways she reminds me of the French writer Robert Pinget who also was adept at describing the almost apathetic aloneness of the elderly left to their own devices in a world that is swiftly passing them by--like stranded islands of humanity. ( )