Amoq, the madness of love

Midnight, the ship's bell rings. The unknown senses you with an eye you do not see. Standing behind you, laughing at you as you search among the chaos of things for something that resembles you. It is here, frozen in its place, sitting indifferently. Suddenly, without any clear reason, it jumps from its seat and runs to the streets. It runs and runs without stopping, possessed by the fever of "Amok." Where does love take us, coming suddenly like a stone in a stagnant pond? And how will we keep up with it amid our solitude and bloody disputes with the world? An old, miserable question that this novel does not stop at its explosion, but surpasses it to explore what the simplest human reactions can lead to, forming within a narrative framework in which Zweig was able to well embody Freud's theories and Dostoevsky's escapades, flavored with the spices of the East, where love is synonymous with madness from Qays and Laila to the last mystics running on this earth.