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This collection of 1960s diaries really made me fall in love with the overall voice and persona of Simenon. Pretty sad because it's mostly about the eventual failure of his marriage, which happened several years after this book was published. The result is that there's no real catharsis to that “arc” which runs through the memoir. But, like, that lack of catharsis is in itself a feeling? Pretty fun to read about Simenon's annoyances with interviewers, publishers, award committees, like everybody he met except for Henry Miller? Who among us hasn't been there amirite? I really enjoyed the audiobook and could easily imagine relistening to it.