imagine everything D iGames that when I finish reading a book a "je ne sais quoi" forces me to write something, a kind of urgency that should replace failing to verbalize someone immediately. I think that caused tingling reading and going to fade soon.
While writing about the latest novel by Martin Kohan, it was late and reading had to go to the kitchen and look for the light the oven or microwave, I took the big book of Borges and I went to the only light as possible and sought the page 451 and read "The Circular Ruins" and focused on the end: "With relief, with humiliation, with terror, he understood that he too was an illusion, that someone else was dreaming him." ***
reading a novel circular
23/12/2010
by Cristian M. Piazza
When I closed the book by Martin Kohan,
Unpaid , when I closed it because he had reached the last page or so I expected the final technical gadget, I thought it was a novel circular . Not only I, I said aloud to myself, because no nobody listened. My daughter slept in the room and my comments embarrassed, spontaneous on a reading that is finished, not moved a hair. "It's a novel move, go see why I said that, because I felt that this phrase arose from the stomach before I can do anything to avoid it or perhaps rethink. What I mean by circularity, in the first place? I thought, by extension, Borges, in his circular ruins and in the literary and mythological contains that word.
The circular, which becomes the starting point, closing all one way and ends things in the same place to start. So, was it all a waste of time? Say no. In principle, no was all a waste of time reading me this book. We know how systematic can be Kohan (I wonder if their sexual links the practice with the same method, if it takes all the entry if it endures if you see that is to disrespect the rhythms that set) but the story is a delight Giménez . I have a dislike of value judgments, especially if what is written is not for yourself, that is, if you try to critique or review anything, but there is only truth in that adjective.
was a pleasure to witness in the privacy of the niceties (read with irony) of Giménez, an octogenarian with a weariness that hangs to the knees. A guy who is four months rent and that he hates his ex-wife and her mother much less that borders the centenary. In these descriptions, where in fact nothing happens, except the chapter on the horse race, the elation and disappointment and subsequent collision with the building superintendent, occur throughout the scapular of habits and customs of the average Argentine, struggles against the use, ways of escaping and enduring and sweet pastries as an anesthetic. The Argentine, looking from outside, very smugly support appearances, as if such would serve as the retaining wall's existence. Perhaps I have no mercy with that particular group to generalize about, but that's my humble opinion rickety. Continue reading
Photos: 1. © Amre Gibea / 2. Blprnt