An unusual book, written in an unusual style with a strange, fractured, visceral theme. The first person narrator never addresses the complexities of her past and present in a straightforward way; the impression is of an individual detached from any motivation to truly control her life, but in a painfully passive way allowing the desires of others to dictate her behaviour. It's as if she's yielded to the negative forces of human nature, and lacks the insights and strengths to redeem herself. All her encounters are discoloured by the weirdness or implausibility of the men with whom she has brief, humiliating, degrading, experiences, with the exception of the one man whose attributes could be those of the hero of a Romantic novella and who, given her description of herself, would seem unlikely to show any interest in her.
The one 'string' holding the work together is the intelligent analysis of the steps taken towards the acquisition of a foreign language by a determined autodidact. The narrator is subsuming herself in French; willing herself to think in French and, on occasion, performing so well that she is taken to be French.
I do recommend this book. There are some 'yucky' moments and an atmosphere of bemused misery but the story--if there can be said to be one--does linger in the mind.