A funny thing starts to happen very slowly as you read this book – you start to actually live in Arabia. You can feel every sharp rock, every hot, blasting wind, the smell of mutton and rice and coffee, the men, the lack of privacy, the lolling of the camels.
And when he satirizes Auda with his story he satirizes his own pedantic observations.
This is a work of genius.
First, the main character does not seem terribly interested in his wife. Second, while he was never more than sexually attracted to Mouche, he’s grown to despise her as well now that he can’t get away from her because of the trip into the jungle. And now there is Rosario.
Out ‘hero’ does not like women very much. In Mouche, he sees everything petty and vain.
I’m not sure if the author does too.