Soms is een review van een ander al genoeg om mij zo nieuwsgierig te maken naar een boek, dat ik echt geen rust vind tot ik het in mijn handen heb gehad.
Zie hier:
"Yesterday I received through the post a slim volume from Carcanet Press with a glossy dark brown cover that at first glance I thought was poetry. I’d never ordered a novel by Gabriel Josipovici before and I don’t know whether Everything Passes is representative of his favored style. But I was struck by the amount of white space the reader is confronted with on each page, the writing being confined to a slender column of dialogue that is itself intermittent, fragmented by vertiginous silences. I began to read the first few words and felt myself slipping, slipping, as if down a polished chute, those aching blank spaces dragging me across to the next portion of dialogue as if across a dangerous precipice. I had to put it down for a while because it frightened me. And for the same reason I had to pick it up again. When it was finished, I was stunned. It was quite the most extraordinary piece of writing I had encountered in a long time."
Het gaat nog efkes door, en wel hier:
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