It’s been a little more than two years since the hashtag #MeToo lit the fuse to an explosive national debate on the subject of sexual violence and exploitation. Recent books like Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey’s SHE SAID and Ronan Farrow’s CATCH AND KILL have taken readers back to the shocking stories that gave birth to the movement. No doubt there will be more such journalistic works, exposing the shameful behavior of powerful men.

But for all the value of that reporting, there’s something about the imaginative freedom and subtlety of fiction that makes it a uniquely appropriate vehicle for exploring this complex territory. That’s why Mary Gaitskill’s THIS IS PLEASURE is such a valuable contribution to the discussion surrounding this fraught topic.

Narrated in alternating sections by two characters identified as “Q.” and “M.,” THIS IS PLEASURE packs a powerful modern parable into barely 80 pages, as it traces the downfall of literary editor Quinlan Maximillian Saunders following a complaint of inappropriate conduct lodged by a former employee. Alongside Quin’s rueful account, the story’s other narrative voice is supplied by Margot Berland, an editor herself and his longtime friend.

"Despite its brevity, THIS IS PLEASURE has the depth and texture of a much longer work. Gaitskill is an economical writer, but there’s more than enough here to provide a meaningful, and often sympathetic, portrait of Quin..."

It seems Quin, a native of England and the product of “old-school wealth,” long has engaged in some questionable behavior when it comes to his encounters with a handful of young women in his professional orbit. From accompanying them on clothes shopping trips that in at least one case becomes uncomfortably intimate, to dispensing romantic advice that requires them to share deeply personal information, Quin clearly lacks a sense of boundaries.

Ironically, the most egregious example of that character flaw occurs early in the story, and involves Margot, but after making clear where she draws the line, she apparently chooses to overlook it and embark on a friendship with Quin. Margot doesn’t condone her friend’s “odd relations with women,” but in assessing his behavior, she seems more sorrowful than angry.

Quin’s fall is swift and absolute, but Gaitskill leaves the reader to ponder whether he’s a sexual predator or merely lacking in insight into the way his behavior has crossed a line he may never have understood existed. Gaitskill also raises the provocative question if, in the zeal with which the #MeToo movement has exposed the odious conduct of men like Harvey Weinstein and Matt Lauer, its advocates have lost a sense of proportionality when it comes to assessing even deserved punishments. It’s a subject that investigative reporter Jane Mayer explored at length, for example, in a New Yorker piece on the case of former Minnesota senator Al Franken, and one that no doubt will arise again when the transgressions of others are revealed.

Despite its brevity, THIS IS PLEASURE has the depth and texture of a much longer work. Gaitskill is an economical writer, but there’s more than enough here to provide a meaningful, and often sympathetic, portrait of Quin, a well-liked man who “imbibed people,” in Margot’s view. Without excusing him, Gaitskill’s portrait emphasizes his charm over any sense of menace.

While lacking insight into how his behavior has crossed a line, Quin nonetheless senses that strong winds of change are aloft, about to sweep him, and men who act like him, from positions of power and influence forever. Even as he regards his own fate as “so terrible and so absurd,” he understands:

“That this is the end of men like me. That they are angry at what’s happening in the country and in the government. They can’t strike at the king, so they go for the jester. They may not win now, but eventually they will. And who am I to stand in the way? I don’t want to stand in the way.”

And yet Gaitskill chooses to end Quin’s story on a note of optimism, suggesting that we are at the beginning of a long conversation, not its end. “There will be something else for me,” he reflects. “If not here, then in London. I can feel it. I am on the ground and bleeding, but I will stand up again. I will sing songs of praise.”