2Don't Leave Me Alone is the translation of Estonian author Peeter Sauter's first-person narrative detailing his volatile relationship with his new wife, Laura, in his trademark "confessional" style. Peeter and Laura are at two different stages in their lives. Laura is 30 years old, with a job and apartment in another part of the city where she often stays. Peeter, a middle-aged man of 50, is a writer of some notable success. While constantly broke, Peeter seems content; he continues to write but is unambitious and profoundly unapologetic about it. He has a daughter, Siskin (Siss), who lives with her mother but frequently visits him, and a son, Kustas, who died at some point earlier. Don't Leave Me Alone is real life - literally, the day-to-day goings-on in the Tallinn district of wooden apartment houses called Uus Maailm in the so-called "Poor Writers' House" an old, stove-heated wooden building that houses quite a number of other writers with varying degrees of success. In the basement is Cabbages, a sort of sanctuary where an eclectic assortment of creative characters who formerly lived in the nearby commune gather to drink, socialize, and sometimes hold readings of their works. At its core, Don't Leave Me Alone is a love story in which Peeter struggles with both togetherness and aloneness. "I've got a part-time marriage and on top of that, I'm a part-time dad. I like it, actually. It's nice to be alone from time to time, even though it can be somewhat depressing. For a while, it even felt like I'd mastered the art of being alone. But then, Laura came back into the picture and everything was forgotten." This novel is deeply autobiographical and it has been described as "enchanting," while raw and uninhibited. It is written in a profoundly philosophical and tragic way about very simple things; heating the stove and cleaning the kitchen, daily trips to buy liquor, and frequent visits from Peeter's daughter Siss, a charming 9-year-old. It is a poignant story about a person's vulnerability, addiction to relationships, and the forms and triangles of every sort of love.