What are the books with the most jaded, most misanthropic views on love? Like I would love books where the protagonist has long, poetic monologues on how inane and mundane and useless love is…
Give me the books where love is compared to a gilded cage—a burden in the guise of bliss, or something like that.
Rec me some of the best-written books on a misanthrope's views on love
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Intermezzo plays with that theme in the beginning