Rereading this 20 years later I'm still astounded by the powerful wave of 'folie' that inhabits the narrative. More so now then the first time I read it. Yes, it's the memories put into a somewhat fictional narrative of a young Marguerite 'selling' herself to this rich older Chinese man in the 1930's in Indochina. Duras wrote at least three versions of this period of her life. Yes, it's adults taking away the childhood away, a young girl selling herself into prostitution to escape a home life riddled with violence both physical and psychological, a family where insanity is only a breath away. This time around, it's that insanity that kept me reading, the bleakness of it all, not the impossible love story, which isn't really real, probably just as fictional as her very selective memories. Still, it passed the test of time, it's still quite a good read now but for very different reasons.