But they would soon find out that it was not myheart that ruled my appetite, and there would often be tears, theirs, a dramatic departure, phone calls in the middle of the night, a dozen e-mails, clothing to be sent for, and so on and so forth.
If you stay with "The Beat That MyHeart Skipped, " though, you'll find a remarkable portrait of a man strung out between irreconcilable goals, and slowly but surely coming unstrung.