That's "trouble" with a capital "T" all right, big trouble between wife and husband. After 10 years of love and compatibility, Annette finally conceives Spicer's child just as her first novel is about to be published. Is her ever-expanding girth and fatigue making Spicer so mean and evil, or is he threatened by her success, or involved with another woman? Yes to all of the above, although the other woman in this case is not a mistress but a creepy charlatan Jungian therapist who seems to be turning Spicer into some sort of male ogre archetype. Weldon's satiric wit and devilish view of sexual politics are in full force in this brutally funny and wildly exaggerated novel, which consists almost entirely of dialogue, giving it the vitality and immediacy of theater. Things go from bad to worse as Annette tries valiantly to cope with her husband's sudden transformation from an affectionate mate into an arrogant New Ager who spews nonsense about star charts and malevolent goddesses, all the while insisting that "she's" going mad. Weldon takes this as far as it can go, reveling, as always, in our immense capacity for self-delusion.