A review by syphoche
The Confessions by Jean-Jacques Rousseau

I read this book intermittently over a number of years. Most of the Mesdames and Messieurs blurred together after a while. I enjoyed Rouseau's insights, though, and treated each time I picked the book up as a separate experience. I could vaguely imagine Rousseau's ghost haunting my book case, monologuing incessantly about his grievances and virtuousness. I used the receipt for another book I'd bought as the bookmark.