I once stumbled upon an enchanting outdoor political rally in Santa Fe, New Mexico, circa 1983, where Jesse Jackson effortlessly had all comers - and Santa Fe is an affluent resort - not just the downtrodden Latinos and Native Americans he had come specifically to inspire - raise our fists and shout "I Am Somebody". That felt good, but reading this book felt better. In both cases, I am far from the 'dis-enfranchised' citizen embodied in the speech (non-minority, non-catholic, non-Irish), but everyone among us knows what it feels like to wonder if we are somebody, or just no one at all. I found in this book at least four finely crafted passages among a great deal of fine (okay, some were obtuse, but so what? Do we want everyone to write only about what We know? I am glad to look up the references.) stories that brought my reading to a bursting-hearted halt, forced me to take a breath, absorb the import of the words and then to feel happier to be alive than I ever have been, to have felt a kind hand put my head on straighter than it was before. If you ask of a book, did it need to be written, and is the world better because it was written, and am I better for having read it - then Yes on all counts. You know what I wish? That Doris Lessing's superb skill as a novelist and dramatist, as in her novel "Love Again", could be somehow blended with the forthrightness, bravado, and forward-thinking of this book. It would be the ultimate combination of what the Ancient Greeks would have called, 'technae and psuchae' (skill and raw talent, sort of). Nuala, Nuala, now that you know how well your first book was received, and how much we love you - won't you write us a novel, please? Show Ms Lessing that life does not need love as its axis, show the literary world just exactly how to make vivid experiences into the elusive Perfect Partner. Nuala, I'll bet you if you write a novel, it'll be better than anything that has come before.