Who decides what that makes me? What that means? Is my value based only on your perception? Or is your opinion of me? Not my responsibility. Rejecting all witch-hunt-style criticism, the heroine's husband is introduced as "a formless mist devoid of gender." His existence reflects the female gaze upon men rather than male guidance. Against the backdrop of the 1960s, the heroine marries a composed, taciturn, erudite professor who respects her every whim—flawless, almost unreal, like the idealized wives male authors imagine: feminine yet not truly women.