Either way, a perfect molecule. This is not for me to preface. Empty beauty, like a Matisse replica hanging in the hallway. Byatt does not allow that to happen paint is still dripping from her brush as she hangs the picture on the wall, in a room with a view. Egoistic, base, hurtful, confused, unintentional, consuming, obsessive, biological or pathological, mysterious, adrenaline-driven, truthful, gentle.
Possession possesses the novel every step of the way.
Since a diagram will not work here, I try to put this all in the context of my accelerating feelings while reading the novel and the expectations I had for its outcome and its moral. Byatt has me, the reader, wrapped around her little finger. I try to think of it as a detective novel. The need to possess the secret of the past is what drives the characters in a mad chase for letters, poetry, manuscripts, anything that will lead them to know the secret. But if the desire to have cannot be stopped, the question of what is really gained by it becomes secondary to the characters, although I think that it should not to me, the reader.