Jane Feaver's fouth novel is a transporting and richly accomplished story about story-telling itself, blending fiction and memoir: a woman, in middle age, tells her story while the author herself roams the emotional landscape, asking questions about how we live, love, age and remember - or re-create - our selves

'Perhaps my problem all along is that I've never understood or recognized the difference between story and life...'

Crazy is an account of the origins and progress of an early, all-consuming relationship. Jane, the teller of the tale, shuttles between her present predicament, assailed by physical symptoms she can't explain, and the story in hand, an ill-fated tale of obsession compelling in its rawness and emotional candour. With humour and a poetic sturdiness that is by now characteristic of her writing, Jane returns to scenes of childhood whose after-effects can be seen to permeate the emotional landscape of what unfolds - marriage, childbirth and the vagaries of working life.

Questions of love, ambition and identity are examined in a novel that is, above all, about story-making itself, about who gets to tell the tale and how, and about the ways in which those stories we absorb and accrue become the ones that make us, and (if anything can) might redeem us, too.