Way ticket to nowhere

This is a terrible book. For his subject, of course, but especially by what he refers us to we humans. Because it raises the terrible question of our pride: why do we reproduce? Because, unconsciously of course, we are so happy with what we are we want to sue us, continue to exist around other. For this, we dream the most perfect child ever, and we are proud when it appears, gorgeous, with its five fingers on each hand, her beautiful nails, this perfect miniature. And sometimes it is not perfect. Sometimes, as Jean-Louis Fournier, is "a miracle in reverse". "We would have liked to defend against the fate that had hard against him. The worst is that we could in nothing."

And being a parent is that too. This is done with recklessness to believe immortal, free from any responsibility, parenting is learning that is responsible. Not guilty. But sometimes the limit is not always easy to determine. "When I think that I am the author of his days, terrible days he spent on Earth, it is I who brought him, I want to ask forgiveness."

That is why the book of Jean-Louis Fournier's beautiful. That's why it often tears. But these are not tears of pity, as he fears rather selfish tears because we weep to see so clearly in his mirror. Uncompromising, he tells jealousy to see others "normal" children, his escape temptations to escape the burden of all the regrets he has not been able to share with them the regrets of all they will not have known "combine the first person singular and indicative of this verb in the first group. aimer" It's sad, it's shameless and it's true.