Before taking a train and having stupidly forgotten the serious books that I always take care to pack, I went prowling at the station kiosk, fearing bad bestselling novelists in fashion in general in that flood the shelves. After standing several books unconvincing though celebrated by critics, I am gripped me this little book whose low price and the number of pages seemed to me to be the happy compromise that would allow me not to bother me during my trip, without having to live the rest of my life with remorse for having wasted my talents and the family budget. The investment was good, I laughed; I shared my find with relatives, who also have a good laugh, and all for just a few Euros. One thing is sure: some of my Jewish friends are indeed, when I thought to not be, my certainty is not to be seriously undermined.