Hell with it; I'm giving everything five stars. I just finished reading this short novel by the Argentine, Ernesto Sábato. How can you not read a book that begins with this line:

Bastará decir que soy Juan Pablo Castel, el pintor que mató a María Iribarne; supongo que el proceso está en el recuerdo de todos y que no se necesitan mayores explicaciones sobre mi persona.

(Suffice it to say that I am Juan Pablo Castel, the painter who killed Maria Iribarne; I suppose that the trial is still in everyone’s memory and I need no further introduction.)

I think that is what you would call an arresting opening. Heavily influenced by the existentialists (I would imagine) Sábato’s protagonist struggles with obsession like no one you’ve ever known. Some of the scenes are almost comically pathetic in showing the neurosis of Juan Pablo Castel and his obsession for Maria. I especially liked the part when he hastily wrote her a letter, mailed it, thought better of it, and then tried to get the letter back from the rather Stalinist postal employee. In fact, I think that I could easily turn this novel of obsession into a romantic comedy, but I think that Woody Allen has already made a career of it.