I admit to have never read anything by this author, and have chosen this title for his novel that I found is as poetic as promising and back cover which augured a captivating story by a writer already confirmed.
I admit to have remained a little on my hunger even if the book is readable no displeasure.
Certainly, the main character is revealed as endearing interesting.
His trade, manufacture and bring to life puppets in a store in the Marais in Paris in the 1960s is in itself a whole world and when you meet a coppersmith, a Machiavellian editor and colors in high bistrottiers, we are happy follow him in a Paris that was still not lost its charm.
Initiation quest, the death of his father, "a devil of a man" whose job was to "re-emerge from the shadows with a scalpel writing, Nathan must leave" the sweet tranquility that s' was created " and confront his legacy, this "palace of shadows which he must extricate the treasure: a strange manuscript which he is strangely bound by a blood oath.
The other principal character of the novel is in fact this strange house, worthy of that of the Adams family, with her owl "intermittent sentinel", its assorted objects, his magic cabinet and especially his voice sigh, her footsteps. ..and that's when for me the charm has not made any of this does not prevent continued my reading and fortunately for the end is much more touching, even if the press but the writer n ' Is it not also a puppeteer who pulls the strings of his characters?
So happy ending.
Enjoyable book, limpid style and supported without any ambient drift off to modernism with discréte question on the relationship between art, writing and life, truth and history.