This is the moment I was hooked. It’s hard as a woman of the twenty-first century to read of hysteric near-nude women chained to poles outside French medical hospitals and not feel, well, hooked. But, perhaps, that’s me.

In many ways, this book nestles itself somewhere between academic writing and a memoir, refusing to be either while accidentally dipping back and forth. I have learned more new vocabulary words from this book than from any other since graduation. I wonder how this might alienate an unpracticed reader. Though I doubt anyone without express interest in the subject matter would pick up the book. On that note, previous knowledge of philosophy, dance, and medicine is a prerequisite. 

I believe this book contributes something good to the world by way of idea. I am glad the packaging appealed to me and kept me hooked, I wonder if it will do so for all.

On style, I found some sentences impossible to puzzle out: Colon use unmatched.

In the end, by placing herself as author and subject, Wells “fictionalizes” herself. Giving voice to herself and her illness in a way that her Augustine, despite Wells’s attempts, never could.