I believe in the saying that goes along the lines of "books actively look for their readers". The first time I came across this novella I didn't quite know what to do with it. However, the true time for me to read it was obviously now: I needed the experience, the intense albeit brief journey into the mind of a painter who killed the love of his life, now. It's both illuminating and terrifying. No wonder Camus championed Sabato (himself a painter) after this --published in 1948--, the Argentinian's first of just three novels.
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