Barnes has amazing powers of transformation: getting inside and telling stories from the skin of an insect, a woman, a movie star; he may be a lawyer, an art critic, a television journalist, which suggests that all the faces are constantly present in his head. In the third part, under the guise of found documents, he even argues with himself, opposing each other with equally unshakable arguments in accusation and defense. What is not the “reproduction of personality” that Hermann Hesse discovers in “Steppenwolf”! When the author finally finds harmony with himself as the narrator, he is overcome by a thirst for deep analysis, a desire to see the invisible line, to open that door that others considered the entrance to the room with the waste of a well-known masterpiece. Every chapter is a disaster. First of all, the collapse of our usual ideas.