Because it is huge, especially because it is full to the brim of literary splendor, it is probably this collection that I would take on the legendary "desert island", if by chance it myself isolated for a wacky reason. It contains almost everything a man of taste has always dreamed of: a hard-hitting style, complex, worked straight line heir flaubertiennes research and acclaimed the greatest contemporary writers, broad spectrum of grateful admirers from Midnight of the movement (Echenoz, among others, has repeatedly recognized the perfection of his dialogues) to all authors of thrillers for which hexagonal cuff is the ultimate horizon. Open the book at random, each sentence is prodigious. Although being a real goldsmith of the language, do not forget Cuff less tightly structured his novels in the style of American pulp magazines he gorged himself, building huge cathedrals clean. Everything is dry, without complacency or no silliness, no parasitized by a leftist militancy that handicap its so-called successors of New Polar: Cuff is a situationist, almost an anarchist, and his vision of the state apparatus as well as Literary and social conventions is suspicious, lucid and snarling. In fact, but rather a detail, I think I never saw as unsympathetic characters, in the sense that it is difficult to understand their feelings. The cuff reading glad and destabilizes in the same movement. The brevity of his novels also allows to easily read and reread this twisted scrawl, the quaint atmosphere (there practically breathes the 70s each chapter) but its intense precision of execution makes it timeless.
