And that's not a bad thing. But this novel really is fast food, though it's delivered on a silver dinner cart. Predictably, Shreve is doing a bit of both. As always in Shreve's work, love is measured by the extent of the lovers' physical ecstasy. Olympia asks John after their second rapturous assignation.
Most men do.
There are women who cannot ever have this, who cannot allow themselves to have it. It's a cringe-inducing scene. In any case, the two conceive a child, and Olympia begins the new century transformed from privileged daughter into social outcast. Shreve writes in the present tense, as she has done before. If anything, Olympia is too reliable a narrator.