Ok. Five stars for the story - not for the main object. And (I've got the hard-cover) no stars for the bookbinding - it was the very first book I was supposed to cut the pages even. Oliver, the philosopher with the high-flying mind and the unability for normal social bindings sees himself kindly entrapped in a strange set of adoring women, each eager to use him for her own purpose - to earn social reputation, get some pieces of high-spirited knowledge, get a crumb of love. He is same time comfortable and dissatisfied, until he discovers his love for the child of one of the women, and, because the mother has other things in mind, is then the willing father-substitute. This gives the circle of women more to adore him - and him the chance to live the only love he is really able to - the love to a child. *What* he is doing to and with the child is not the matter of the book (seems to be nothing physical harming), but it was disturbing (for me as a reader) to see that he is not even able to question his view about this relation - and, as so often, for him everything seems to support his view. This narrowed view is uncomfortably human. On the last pages his ex-beloved girl, now adult, seems to be an healthy, unharmed woman, but also this view is questionable, because she seems to be unable to form a 'normal' relationship to another adult, in this story because she knows that no love can be as deep as this she have had in childhood. If you're interested in adult-child-relations far from what is considered 'normal' you may read this book, but don't think it will support pedophilia - the question of harm is not as open as it may seem (here).