Hector was sitting on another airplane, and he was reading a novel he had bought at the airport just before leaving. Curiously enough, it was called
Le Voyage d'Hector, and it was about another young psychiatrist with the same name, who took it into his head to wonder what happiness was and went on a long journey to find out. From time to time, Hector looked at the man next to him, who was also reading. He had a thick book, but Hector noticed that he only read one or two pages at a time, and in between he took little naps. And somehow he looked a bit sad.
The rest of this review is in my book If Research Were Romance and Other Implausible Conjectures