In an introduction to Deborah Levy's "Swimming Home" (Bloomsbury, 157 pages, $14), the experimental novelist Tom McCarthy writes that the author is less concerned about the story she tells than "about the interzone . . . in which desire and speculation, fantasy and symbols circulate." This will be happy news to readers who like a nice fictional interzone. But let me reassure those who have no idea what Mr. McCarthy is talking about that here is an excellent story, told with the subtlety and menacing tension of a veteran playwright (and, indeed, Ms. Levy has written for the stage).
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