Every now and again a novel comes along that disturbs me. This is one such book. I knew it was going to be the case. Some years ago I decided to set the essay by Sherbourne that foreshadowed the concerns of this novel as required reading for first year students studying the ethics of writing, because when that essay was published in The Monthly back in 2008, it disturbed me. The events of the novel are clearly based on the same events in Sherbourne’s life, specifically his relationship with his first wife, who has since died. If you’re looking for a read that raises questions about the politics of gender relations, look no further. But this one also raises very interesting quetions about ethics, not just in writing, but in life. I loved Helen Garner’s “The Spare Room” - which like Sherbourne’s novel, has illness and intimacy at the heart of its concerns. Both ask us to reconsider the relationship between fiction and autobiography, and to ponder the nature of the first person in narrative. But do I love Sherbourne’s book? Well, I admire the bravery shown here. I admire the writing, which is compelling and dreadfully honest. I couldn’t put the book down. But Helen Garner’s warning on the cover should be carefully considered before reading: “All women with lingering illusions about the way men think should read this... book.” Yes, the sentiment I’m left with at the end takes me back to the epigraph at the beginning of my second novel: “Every man wants to, need to, once in a lifetime, do a girl in” (TS Eliot).