This is an odd little story, at least in the pre-publication proof, and I don't expect it will get any less odd in the final editing (there are a few small errors that need fixing). But "oddity" is the price we pay for entering into another literary world. It is very French in ethos and atmosphere, and I mean in a way beyond being set in Paris. (OK, for the anti-French Neanderthals among us, I'll point out the part where our rather lost hero, Virgil, describes the remembered highlights of a weekend visit to the house of some friends: "He enjoyed some great Burgundies, ate the best cheeses (camembert with calvados, livarot, and some pont-l'évêque.")
At one point the book seems to be essentially an Impressionist portrait of an uncertain, hazy figure against a background evocation of a - mostly! - beloved city. Also, in French (or 19th century English) style, we can feel that some of the emotions ascribed to Virgil (about the city, for example) are really those of the author: and the author is not shy of speaking directly to us in a philosophical aside.
The whole thing is not designed to be as "absorbing" as a more typical novel: it is a light framework created to carry many intriguing moments and light witticisms. But it is credible - after all, how disoriented would you be if there was a serious message on your answering machine from a woman addressing you by name and saying she was breaking up with you...and you had no idea who this was?
Unlike The Ginger Man, I found much quiet humor in Virgil's changing reactions to his situation and in the events of the story. There's a neat little "what else can go wrong" moment when his friend Faustine delivers to him a box of clothes that he had left at a previous girlfriend's apartment months ago. He was certainly glad to have them back...except that when he opened the box, they were not his clothes...oops...they belonged to a man twice his size and whose taste was twice as bad. Hmm - was he so completely forgettable?
There are several French references that may be obscure to readers, Nechayev, POUM, historical figures like Thiers and Louise Michel (his assassin). Doesn't matter much, and there's always Google. I enjoyed the trip far from my New England environment.