 Labyrinth of desire 
Women, Passion and Romantic Obsession
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Love in the Western world has a notorious history and an irresistible hold on our imaginations. With its reputation for risk taking, law breaking, greed and unseemly hunger, its heedlessness of convention and readiness to suffer, it tempts even as it whispers: This way lies danger.
This is not the kind of love you bring home to the folks or submit to Ann Landers, who always recommends a friendly, estimable, true affection that leads to a happily ever after. (There's no room for any other kind of amorous truth in her philosophy.) Wild love does not thrive in domesticity and it doesn't do Valentine's Day with its Hallmark card schmaltz, waltz and chocolate.
In "Labyrinth of Desire," Canadian writer Rosemary Sullivan attempts to bring passionate, obsessive love into the cool light of everyday life, the better to see and demystify it. Eros inflames Anna and Vronsky, Tristan and Isolde, or even D.H. Lawrence and Frieda, Taylor and Burton. (No, not Wallis Simpson and her prince; they fell more for a pampered lifestyle than for each other.) People like you and I may also have grand passions, maybe once or twice a lifetime. Perhaps sexual lightning strikes because myth and literature have primed us for it. Possibly there's even a biological component. Apparently, neuroscientist Steven Pinker thinks it plausible that we're programmed for romantic love, though I can't fathom what he might mean besides lust.
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Sullivan Rosemary
Canada
