Gloss fight

"The look of dexprimer Leto tries unsuccessfully because the good lady never ladmettrait, originally of common humanity, from collateral branches called some primates, as they say, some sixty million, roughly, of years ago, Africa Eastern, and also the idea expressed by a lot of religions that all human beings are equal before suffering, and also his personal conviction that the best social organization would be an egalitarian order, swapping roles with a minimum of government and socialization means of production, but hardly their eyes they crossed her, just the necessary time for the woman to express her two young graduates confusion, what fall eyes again, a little ashamed to have launched this glance, disconcerted by the knowing look that made him one of the young men look full of innuendo which neither can nor wants to decipher. "

In it, his seventh novel, published in 1988 and following, 5 years later, "ancestor" already published by The Tripod (dailleurs here we find allusions to Indian Colastiné at the heart of the previous novel), Saer described, or perhaps does it say that it lépuise, walk two friends in Buenos Aires. The walk takes 210 000 cm; the book has about 300 pages and is just sawed into three chapters seven hundred meters each. During this almost motionless journey, we insistently evokes conflicting accounts and via other people, the anniversary of a certain Washington, which neither nor Nont Mon attended the other, and in which raised the unresolved philosophical issues in connection with a horse who stumbled, and three mosquitoes, as lon crashed or not.

Here it's all about perception; lon is one of what is said, or the state of mind that causes lagencement shadows or dune window at a specific time, or that, subliminally and instantaneous, that emanates from the person next to which we walk.

At least as much as in "ancestor", a very firm concentration is required to play this massive block of text that lon could almost attack the ax. The author willingly resort to endless phrases, and if they are still brilliantly translated by Laure Bataillon, they can not sassimiler lightly. When your Segare spirit, sense seffrite, and it might as well be reading a book written by an orangutan. Nevertheless, perseverance still paying, and it seems difficult not to be dazzled by the sagacious author perversity (which nexclut dailleurs not humor), its analysis and possible linfime.