I've just re-read this. It's an emotionally intense book that I really shouldn't be reading over the dark months. Twenty letters from a jilted lover, filled with passages of what we've all said and thought in the heat of the moment but would never have written as authors. "My soul is so lonely, but I'm unwilling to describe that sort of loneliness for you, because I can't divulge the depth of my loneliness to anyone who'd cast away my soul, cast away my life, someone who'd cavalierly take me to the brink of death and who could, without a trace of emotion or sympathy for the pain and suffering I've experienced..." The letters serve as an extended suicide note for Qiu who killed herself aged twenty six. Sigh.