The novel starts with a meticulous description of Henri in the barber’s chair. Gazing into the eyes of his mirror image, he notes the deterioration of a body that is no longer his. Just like Gustav von Aschenbach, the famous character from Thomas Mann’s Death in Venice , Henri undergoes a beauty treatment before entering into the ultimate confrontation with himself. His ageing face is spruced up with creams and scents, his lacklustre hair smeared with old-fashioned miracle remedies, his nails polished by a charming manicurist who treats him to a momentary ‘sensual fringe benefit’ – ‘The touch of a woman’s hands has a subtle unreliability about it.’ Henri rises from the ashes a handsome young man, fit for fresh feminine conquests.

But what may seem like purification is, in reality, a vain attempt at keeping up the camouflage of a life built on lies and deceit. Henri’s Don Juanesque masquerade is no longer tenable and he subjects himself to a merciless bout of soul-searching. In the face of death, Henri is anxious to unmask himself, in search of the true identity behind his immaculate caricature. He resolves to resort to drastic measures, casting off all pretence and revealing his past and that of others, as described through flashbacks. His crippled wife with whom he has a marriage of convenience; his son Manuel, killed in an accident; the one big love of his extramarital life, Elsje; his only friend Sebastiaan, also dead; all bear witness to his loveless, lying existence. Before his moral execution can be carried out, however, one more experience awaits him. The ultimate attempt at self-portrayal can only succeed after, and by means of, a last supper, served by the stunningly beautiful Babette, the ‘typist’ at his office, with whom he has a rendez-vous in the hotel where he will perform his swan song.