A childhood with blurred

Between the past and the present, there is basically a thin film of cellophane. Just an insect bite, almost nothing, for the memories come in bursts. And in Modiano; they are family names, outdated phone numbers and place names that raise the back. Never innocuous, these reminiscences are always a painful sweetness, since they are blurred, necessarily, that they may come in bits and by subtraction. And the children of white are filled gradually but never quite. So that you do not to get lost you in the neighborhood modianesque novel is pure sugar. And thus a treat for lovers in a dark and melancholic tone that still appears to be increasing in his last books. John is a sexagenarian who unwillingly, sees his memory work again, he who lives in oblivion and in a daily joyless where only reading Buffon and observation of the trees still give it the feeling of living . An address book lost and found by a strange individual hands it on the track of his early childhood. And a woman, especially (Annie), which replaced a moment he found his mother and fifteen years later, briefly. The book Modiano vogue three times, with the nostalgia of the 50's, photo booths, a house in the suburbs, and Annie, the mystery of the profession and (bad) dating will never be cleared. Patrick Modiano, private investigator, takes us once again and disappeared in a floating world. It could only be a dream after all, so the outlines are vague. From those we perceives wake few sparse and strangely sad impressions. A cottony state that the fluid prose of the author, as always, makes beautifully.