The narrator is just about perfect, breathy, seductive, full of herself. Just like Phedre. Looking back through my reviews of the print and Kindle versions of this book, I seem to need to read it every September. I wonder what it is about September that brings out the longing for the Byzantine? Or extended rumination on the nature of pain? I think that's the thing that draws me back to this book, time and time again- Carey's exploration of pain and the places it can take one. I think she's dead on, and I say this as a person who's had more than one root canal with no anesthesia. Pain is interesting, and Phedra's experience of it draws me in.