I can easily see why some readers might find this book frustrating: The plot is inconspicuous, the characters are shown as psychological forces rather than as distinct personalities, the dialogue is unrealistic--in fact, the characters for the most part write and speak all in the same voice--and the style demands a very leisurely reading.

It's the style that overwhelmed me--Gracq's writing is the richest I've encountered. As a rule I've little patience with detailed descriptive and metaphorical prose, and Gracq's is certainly that. But perhaps because the overall effect seems the detailing of a dream, or a reverie, or imaginings from a just-awakening doze rather than of the quotidian world, I was drawn into the book and lingered with it. Even when Gracq is recounting his characters' ideas and opinions it's with the same lush and oblique style. For an idea of it, this is from the book's second paragraph, describing a seaside resort in late autumn:

'Soon the great maritime grisaille will restore this whole scene to primary colours--here and there a subtle pigmentation takes hold, puddle by puddle--salt blanches the surface of walls, turns metal railings a jarring red. . . a sudden, unexpected encroachment pervades this little town, harsh and grey like the salt and the coral, with the vague traces of a fire gone cold, of a dried-up tidal wave.'

I'm embarrassed that it took me so long to get around to reading Gracq; I'll certainly be reading more of him.