Tales to blush small chaperones

I hesitate between laughable and ridiculous, or why not both, to describe this book. It goes back to the beginning had been triggered "The Sexual Life of Catherine M." or even "100 brush strokes before going to sleep" is not that Sade wants.

A shame as Jean-Pierre Enard had found a smart move: revisit so, say more "adult" tales of our childhood. The problem is that a bad author is quick to turn eroticism, gender hyper gravelly. Here we are in the low-end porn. I did not count but it should have at the very least about three "cock", "pussy" and other festivities per page. It was a feeling of attending a tournament of vulgarity and while Enard had certainly wanted to write an exciting book, we are left with the hands (I always talk about the book ...) that a book as exciting a Mickael Vendetta in leopard thong; it is to say.

In short, it has the heart in his mouth. It's so badly written that we want to giggle at what appears to be the work of an old pervert who kept the same fantasies as those he had when he was prepubescent.

And I do not hide my discomfort with the heroes of my childhood staged in situations worthy productions Marc Dorcel ...