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Wayne Koestenbaum's latest novel, 'My Lover, the Rabbi', defies expectations with its unapologetically obsessive prose and exploration of desire. The story centers around a man who works as an antique furniture restorer and his overwhelming desire for a man who works in a synagogue. This central fact is accepted by all characters, and the writing treats realist conventions with a kind of exalted scorn.The book's 188 chapters are short and plunge the reader into a world of carnality, confusion, and bizarrely specific detail. The title of the book is reiterated throughout, becoming almost a mantra. This insistent and anxious formality is at the heart of the book's uncanny life, matching style to subject in a brilliant and unconventional way.As the plot emerges, it seems almost 19th century in its storyline, with themes of infidelity, illegitimacy, madness, shopping, coincidences, and death. The narrator's need to discover the secret of his rabbi's attractiveness drives the plot, much like Proust's Swann. The mystery of the rabbi's allure and the death of his three-year-old son become central to the narrative, revealing vistas of unknowability.The book's whirlwind invention culminates in a final, fugue-like recapitulation, where the narrator's obsessive desire morphs into a vision of the unknowability of any object of desire. This gloriously original evocation explores what it might feel like to admit to the inability of love to triumph over death. Koestenbaum's writing is like that of the best kind of angel, unafraid to come down to earth and explore the complexities of human desire.