This may seem like a love story, but it’s more about the disappearance of love. In this case literal and metaphorical. One day Martin Sloane, beloved of Jolene Iolas, walks out of her life without so much as a word…an event that absolutely devastates her and shapes the person she matures into for years to come. The cover of the book conveys that disappearance perfectly, but also the enigmatic nature of the eponymous character, at times nearly too vague to pin down. Eventually we learn that he became the commitment phobic distant adult due to some childhood abandonments, but, frankly, none of it justifies his inconsiderate and emotionally destructive behavior. But for most of the book we follow Jolene as she goes from an impressionable naïve college kid who so desperately loves an older artist to a mature person in her 30s who has finally moved on with her life. So much so that when an old friend contacts her out of the blue with a possible lead on Martin Sloane’s whereabouts, she’s willing and able to do some detective work in an attempt at a possible closure. This can technically pass for a mystery novel, but anyone reading it as such would be disappointed. It’s more of a character study and a very good one at that. Although I can’t say I really cared for any of the characters. I know, I know that shouldn’t get in a way of a good read, but it does, it just does. Vagaries of love being what they are, people seldom come out unscathed, but Martin Sloane absolutely devastates Jolene. And here it stands to mention their age difference, 35 years, May/ December romance to the extreme, the sort of age difference only certain movie stars and members of The Rolling Stones can get away with. And whatever his maturity level may have been in his mid 50s, it is still miles away from a college age kid. There seems to be a genuine affection there, but he maintains Jolene at arm’s length, so that their entire relationship is conducted long distance. And then he vanishes, leaving her bereft, confused, severely traumatized. Nothing in his past makes this ok, so he’s difficult to care about. And Jolene…I’m not sure, it isn’t as easy to explain her. She doesn’t have Sloane’s charm or talent, she doesn’t have his distance, but she doesn’t exactly brim with warmth either. She’s fairly plain, in fact, some shades of grey without her first love’s tragedy to color her. The writing was a thing of beauty, absolutely lovely. The author is also a poet, so it’s that kind of loveliness. Gorgeous meditations, lovingly rendered descriptions. Language lovers’ literary delight. Plot wise, though, I kind of wanted something more, or maybe the lack of personal engagement with the characters got to be too much after a while. For all the narrative’s beauty, there was a certain distance to it, the author Martin Sloaned it that way, it seems. I mean, it was a genuinely enjoyable read. But then again I’m also genuinely glad it was under 300 pages, I don’t think the language alone would have sustained me for longer. I suppose I wanted something slightly more exciting, something along the lines of the dioramas Martin Sloane’s famous for. In fact, this book had me at dioramas, I love those perfectly precise miniature worlds. They hint at stories unravelling well beyond their walls. Much like this book does, hints and hints, but in the end you have to use your imagination. Then again, much like art, different people will take different things away from it. It’s certainly interesting enough to give it a try.