THE PROTAGONIST OF Courtney Maum's debut novel, "I Am Having So Much Fun Here Without You," is really, truly hard to like. Richard Haddon is a British artist living in Paris, and when we meet him we learn quickly that he has just compromised his artistic principles to sell palatable, décor-friendly paintings, and that he has recently cheated on his beautiful French wife, Anne-Laure, with whom he has a relatively happy marriage and a young daughter. Richard's affair - not a one-off drunken mistake, but rather a serious monthslong "I wish I could leave my wife for you" kind of thing - ended only because she left him. At the outset of the book, Anne is not aware of the extent of the affair, only that her husband has not been himself for a while. She suspects something is up only after Richard's mistress has left him - in fact, it is his heartsickness that tips her off. How can we side with the repentant cheating husband while he's still pining for his lost mistress? To be clear, Richard is not in any way an antihero. He's not evil; he's not terrible. He is a regular guy who has made the sort of despicable errors that regular guys make all the time. Richard is struggling; at times he doesn't even really like himself. He admits Anne isn't guilty of any wrongdoing in their marriage - things just became stale, in a normal, familiar, undramatic way. He reflects, "Somewhere down the line, it got hard to just be kind, and I don't know why, and I don't know when, and when I see all of the reasons to be back in love with her again, I want more than anything to be swept up in the tide of before." "I Am Having So Much Fun Here Without You" is less a study of a marriage dissolving, or even of a man dissolving, than a lament for what is damaged possibly beyond repair. Neither Richard nor Anne wants their marriage to end, but neither can see a way back in. Anne is willing to forgive a minor transgression - but when she finds a cache of love letters and learns the affair was more extensive than she had initially assumed, she throws Richard out, and he must struggle to persuade her to give him a second chance. Having crassly sold a painting Anne holds dear, he then goes to great lengths to retrieve it. He plans elaborate evenings, makes grand gestures, is nearly arrested, attempts an ambitious art installation and revives his career. Living alone and missing his family, Richard flounders, and so do we. So much is happening, but it can be difficult to be invested when we find ourselves as unsure of Richard's worth as he is, and perhaps a bit unsure if we care terribly whether Anne will have him back. Richard is not exactly repentant enough, or not in the right ways. He's self-absorbed, self -pitying and not a little whiny. STILL, RICHARD AND Anne were once in love, and something beautiful has been lost. Maum is at her best when exploring the hard place Richard's affair has brought them to, how necessary and impossible it is to forgive and forget. Here is the paradox of the accumulation of years in a marriage, how hard it is to keep holding on to what is good while letting go of what is bad. Anne and Richard both mourn what they had, they both want it back, and yet the path is not clear. Anne cries: "But I can't get past it! I can't! I'm so angry and I'm so sad and I'm embarrassed and ashamed and I'm furious at you. I hate you, and at the same time I just want to go back." The dialogue can feel stale, but still, these moments are heartbreaking. When Richard's 5-year -old daughter visits him for the weekend, and Richard has to wake her from a nap to send her home to her mother, she begs with tears in her eyes to stay. Unlikable as Richard may be, we certainly hope in that moment that Anne will take him back and reunite their family. This novel is not all work and no play. Maum's descriptions of the Paris art world are entertaining, and there is sex - real, full-on, who-put-what-where sex. Maum is funny: the kind of funny that is mean and dirty, with some good bad words thrown in. And she has a satiric eye for artsy pretension: When Richard's escapades bring him into the living room of the men who bought that painting Anne liked so much, they call themselves "pagan Continuists" and explain, "Like our snake god, we, too, try to be the belt around the world that keeps it from bursting apart." Every time they purchase artwork, they must welcome the artist into their home, in order to complete the circle. "Sometimes it's not possible, obviously," they admit. "Sometimes, the artist is dead." Fortunately, Richard's marriage is not dead, just seriously wounded. It's all the more enticing for that, as Maum asks whether a broken marriage can be put together again, whether mistakes can be forgiven, whether redemption is finally possible for Richard, even if we never really cared for the guy in the first place. HALEY TANNER is the author of the novel "Vaclav & Lena."

Maum's debut novel, set in 2002, concerns Richard Haddon, a successful British artist living in Paris with his wife, Anne, a French lawyer, and their young daughter. His young American mistress leaves him, his wife kicks him out when she learns of his infidelity, and self-absorbed, self-indulgent Richard whines and complains about both his amazing wife and having to deal with the consequences of his actions while he tries to win her. The story also includes forays into Brittany and London and contains witty and engaging descriptions of the food, culture, and beauty of those areas. Richard is not a sympathetic character, the story is rather bland and formulaic, with a touch of political statement about the Iraq crisis, and the ending seems rushed. Narrator Sam Devereaux lends his strong voice to this summer beach read. Verdict Might be of interest to fans of midlife crisis romance stories.-Denise Garofalo, Mount Saint Mary Coll. Lib, Newburgh, NY (c) Copyright 2014. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Richard, a British artist living in Paris, betrays his avant-garde ideals with a mainstream gallery show of sentimental oil paintings, which are a hit with consumers. He also sells out his marriage by having a seven year itch love affair. Maum's debut novel charts the aftermath of these two troubling events, with Richard trying to recover his meaningful relationships with both his true art and his French wife. A painting of their daughter's toy bear is central to the story, and its journey serves as a mirror to that of the couple's. With Paris and the looming Iraq war as its backdrop, Maum's tale deftly captures a thirtysomething's sense of grief for the lost passion of youth and the search for something of depth to take its place. Writing with an authentic and affecting vulnerability, Maum considers sentimentality from every possible angle interpersonal relationships, lofty idealism, and art and each receives an equally unflinching examination. An unapologetically thoughtful novel told without melodrama and with a lot of heart.--Soto, Kate Copyright 2014 Booklist

In Maum's debut, it's 2002, and as English artist Richard Haddon's reputation swells following his first solo exhibition in his adopted home of Paris, his marriage slowly crumbles. His wife, Anne, learns of his infidelity with his American mistress, Lisa; meanwhile, Lisa continues to send him unsolicited letters. Richard travels to London to deliver one of his paintings-The Blue Bear, a sentimental piece created while Anne was pregnant with their only child-but fears that the buyer might be Lisa. What follows is an honest, staggeringly realized journey: Richard and Anne struggle to define their marriage, while he attempts to capitalize on his newfound artistic success, proposing an installation piece critiquing the conflict in Iraq. Equally funny and touching, the novel strikes deep, presenting a sincere exploration of love and monogamy. These characters are complex, and their story reflects their confusion and desire. As her story bounces through time and across continents (Richard and Anne met while students in the U.S.), Maum rarely loses focus. An impressive, smart novel. (June) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

Despite the clever title and intellectual-verging-on-pretentious charactersa sensitive British painter who wants his work to have meaning; his French lawyer wife who doesn't want him to sell out; his American former mistress who writes him letters about KierkegaardMaum's first novel is basically a romantic comedy for elitists.Richard, the narrator, lives with his wife, Anne, and 5-year-old daughter, Camille, in a lovely Parisian house purchased with the help of Anne's aristocratic parents. In 2002, as George W. Bush prepares the world for the invasion of Iraq, Richard has his first solo gallery show, but his excitement is muted. The gallery caters to collectors looking for art to match their interior design; so instead of the provocative collages of his 20s, Richard has painted realistic interiors as seen through keyholes. He suspects that Anne is unimpressed with his new work and may be hurt that the show includes "The Blue Bear," which he painted for her while she was pregnant. At the same time, Richard is pining for his unconventional mistress, Lisa, who recently dumped him and moved to London to marry a man who sounds particularly dull. Anne, whose beauty and saintly patience may get on the reader's nerves after a while, agrees to stay married despite the affair, but Richard fears he can't rekindle his old passion for her. It doesn't help that Lisa continues to write him letters through the gallery. He doesn't answer them, but when Anne finds out, she goes ballistic. By the time he returns from delivering "The Blue Bear" to its gay, New Age-y purchasers in London, where he drops by to see Lisa and realizes she's a jerk, Anne is fed up and kicks him out. Will he win her back? Will he create a serious piece of performance art about Iraq that is so controversial that everyone loves it?The not-terribly-sharp humor is more enjoyable than the predictable plot shot through with sentimentality. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.