The book’s epilogue becomes increasingly frantic. The narrator’s voice intrudes, postmodernly, insisting that the hero is guilty because of his unwillingness to cooperate in the creation of the text. In a strange way, the narrator begins to compete with the disappointed lover. He, we realize—another postmodern touch—has taken her voice: “This office extended six separate invitations to the President to testify.” Why won’t you respond to my requests? Why won’t you return my phone calls? You do everything you can to avoid me. And, finally: I will not be ignored. The plaint of the rejected disciplinarian (Clinton “spurned six invitations to testify”). Hell, our chagrined hero learns, hath no fury like a woman scored (“You want me out of your life…I guess the signs have been made clear for awhile—not wanting to see me and rarely calling”), except that of an independent counsel spurned.
Utterly brilliant.
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