I do not come around here for months. I thought more than once that the case would have been nice to put a placeholder page, instead of these posts, because there is nothing worse than a blog that is updated at least daily. Yet the novelty and things to talk about there would be so many, so many that even then I can only take a minute to write two lines in what the intention was to be my professional blog / personal. But then the things I am fond of me there and throw it no one ever talks about. I think about it. I try. But then back. Back, back, back ...
Before going to sleep I read the pages of a novel that I would like to point out.
I want really, because certain information deserve to be disseminated as much as possible, there is no pleasure in store, must be shared.
This is the novel "Do not know your name" written by Joshua Ferris promoted heavily through all media and Italy for at least two weeks.
Guys, this is one of the most sensational rubbish I have ever had the misfortune to read!
An uninterrupted sequence of improbable scenes, boring and basically childish embedded in a string of petty details and thrown at random.
We are untold levels!
The characters are boring and annoiatissimi members of the American middle class in whose mouths were stuffed with difficulty fragmentary conversations and unnatural, theatrical trailer sequences of spots could be wrong and forced descriptions of details without any bearing on the psychological moment of the narrative.
I hope at least it is a bad translation, although it is unlikely to be the whole story, and - worse - absolutely insignificant.
I remained indelibly imprinted the description of a street in the Bronx where the rolling papers here and there and a vehicle driven by a storm for street cleaning and emitting sparks jumping passes crossing rough.
But that huge piece of shit!
This scene is seen as such in any bad little film american eighties ... I do not know, but I have to finish it is unbearable.
I want to see how far you can push.
It is certainly one of those extremely poor products that are consumed by an audience poorly equipped for the sake of knowing the ending.
The cathartic dell'agnizione ... You return to read several times in life because a classic is a classic pure aesthetics that has taken shape in a narrative sequence.
He read and reread the masters for the sake of it, to return again and again on a single sentence.
Not knowing whether, in the end, Raskolnikov will end up in jail or be able to get away.
Just.
I go to bed.
I administer a few dozen pages before sleep.
And we see how the hell goes ...
