22 MINUTES OF UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

Merkin, whose nonfiction has dealt with her own depression and sexual obsessions, now offers a “novel about a sexual obsession.”

Narrator Judith Stone, a New York City writer securely married to radiologist Richard and pregnant with their second child, announces to the reader that she's writing the story of an intensely carnal affair years before her marriage because it still haunts her in ways she wants to resolve. Judith writes about her younger self in the third person as a character in a novel, but here and there narrator Judith breaks into the story to offer what she calls digressions and speak directly to the reader about her thoughts and writing process. Unfortunately, this potentially interesting concept falls flat because character-Judith and narrator-Judith offer the same compulsive self-analyzing. Character-Judith’s affair occurred when she was a young book editor with a limited sexual history despite what narrator-Judith calls “striking looks.” The object of her affection, or at least lust, was Howard Rose, a criminal lawyer at least 10 years her senior, whom she met at a party three weeks after her adored therapist’s death—transference upon transference. Judith and Howard carried on for the next eight months. According to Judith, sex with Howard Rose was 50 shades of ecstasy and awakened her previously dormant capacity for erotic passion. But the repeated descriptions of insertions and wetness become a blur of run-of-the-mill physical machinations and phone sex. Character-Judith considered Howard “a jerk,” maybe even a pervert. Or was he simply an aggressive lawyer-type settled into middle-aged bachelorhood? Maybe she shouldn’t have disparaged his early warning that “I’m the wrong guy” for her because he was too old and poor. But narrator-Judith has little interest in Howard as a human being with feelings and motivations. Despite displays of social wit and literary smarts, Judith fails as both narrator and character, not because she is untrustworthy but because her self-absorption is boring.

Who knew hot sex could be such a drag.