This book contains some beautiful, less-seen aspects of Picasso's work. In recent travels I have noticed that when it comes to the greatest of artists, the oeuvre we get to see and learn about in the U.S. is pretty lacking in depth and breadth.
It doesn't take an art historian to know that his women were important to him - his muses, his objets de desir, his playthings (and yes, he was notoriously cruel to them, but I think his cruelty was not restricted to the women he was with)...
Of particular interest are the sketches of Minotaurs ravaging women with their superhuman sexuality. Apparently he viewed himself as one... and viewed some of the women in his life as his Carmen.
Later in the book he obscures himself in each drawing with dark, scribbling lines. Not being a Picasso scholar, I wouldn't know why, but it almost seems like angry self-negation.