Winter blankets Montreal, while a bookseller and her lover dream of Prague. As the narrator’s open marriage becomes the subject of a novel, reality blurs with fiction, and she tries to reconcile the need to create with the desire for love and sex. Written in stark, spare prose, Prague is an introspective and intimate account of the making of a novel from life.
“a maelstrom of situations and emotions … heartbreaking.” (James Fisher, The Miramichi Reader)
"Our story was falling flat. All of this waiting for a few moments of euphoria, it was exhausting. The moments came, but not often enough. I didn’t want to hold back. I wanted to throw myself into it. Set everything on fire. Be with him, be crazy. I felt like we were going to run out of time. He was afraid of getting close, becoming attached, being a couple. He was solitary, had a full inner life. Once a week was the deal. No more. He didn’t want to lose control. I knew he’d let me into his life because I wasn’t a threat. A married woman, the ideal arrangement. He was holding me at a distance, but other times felt so close. Closer than anyone had been. Closer than I’d imagined possible."