I've finished Mary Gaitskill's novel, Veronica and loved it. It's the story of a woman living with an illness, forced to slow down and examine her life. She remembers her days of being a model, living a life completely unexamined; she remembers her friendship with Veronica, a loud, brash woman hopelessly in love with her bi-sexual lover who gave her AIDS. A few of Gaitskill's metaphor's were over-the-top, but where Gaitskill shined, for me, was in her ability to describe the indescribable. Her abstractions were so beautifully rendered, her characters so honestly drawn, she took fiction to another level altogether.
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