The protagonist and narrator Marcello, the name beckoning to Fellini's journalist in La Dolce Vita, is writing a novel, and a goal of his literary endeavor is to see if he can describe the women in his life that he loves or has loved - even as he's currently navigating his relationships with them or reflecting on his relationships with them in the past - without turning them into caricatures. So an absence is at the heart of the novel, can he write without the male gaze, can he write without centering himself? Is he a male writer for this century, a revamped Philip Roth with an updated awareness of socio-gender issues and increased sensitivity towards them? Given that Marcello is writing in first person and exploring his relationships to these five women - Eleanor, the young editor he mentored and with whom he had an affair; Barbara, his girlfriend and eventual wife; Danielle, his sister-in-law and an aspiring novelist; Irene, his estranged sister; and his mother - it seems an impossible task. And it actually is mostly impossible, but it is also fun, at times heart-tugging, much alcohol is involved in this quasi send-up, to a degree, of toxic masculinity, although sometimes a man is simply toxic, related to his personhood and not his gender, and Marcello is a bit of that. Set in Rome and Milan, set mostly among the Italian bourgeoise, Marcello's voice is generally engaging, the family history interesting, as are his relationships to these women, and to his best friend, Francesco, a writer with the name of this novel's author, who lives in Rome, as the author does. There is more than a dollop of meta-ness here, and there are various asides of Marcello's editorial philosophy - how he would write this novel, what he would not include, that he does not like long sections of dialogue, what tense some section of the translation would be in, if it was in Italian, etc. The novel follows Marcello as he looks back and as he exists in the present in five sections named for the women.