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1.0étoiles sur 5
We need saving from this book., Mai 27 2004
It takes something special for me to write a review of something. Something like a magnificent game or a gripping, yet funny, book. Maybe an excellent album could do it, too. Or, something has to be bad. Not just put-back-on-the-shelf bad, but makes-you-want-to-do-something bad. This book is that bad. This book should be avoided at all costs. Hell, avoid it if it's free; your spare time would be best spent watching pigeons pick the lumpy bits out of steaming dog turds as the flies flit above in a dance that can only end with their face in faeces.We need saving from this book. It starts off rather boringly and gets worse. The lead character (lead human, I should say. There's a dog you're supposed to like too. You'd better like this dog because he takes over later) is an aging Englishman who lives in rural italy with his dog, the titular Timoleon Wossname, in the hope that young boys come to visit, paying the rent by fellating him. Charming. Then the bullet-scarred Bosnian comes into his life and soon enough, he comes into the Bosnian's mouth in return for board. Said "I like girls but there's rent to be paid" Bosnian dislikes aforementioned mongrel and makes old man choose between DIY, fellatio at 7pm every wednesday and human company, and The Mutt. If I were in that position, I'd choose the dog as at least you retain a shred of dignity that way. Obviously, that would not allow us to segway (sic) into charming tales remotely related to the fugly dog. Yes, that's right, the author, and I use that term loosely, can't stick the pace and drops out of the story and decides to write vignettes on Italian life, as seen by people the dog stumbles near. What happens next? I have no idea as I couldn't stomach this book any more. I hear from other reviewers that the dog dies quite horribly at the end, but I wouldn't know as I have better things to do with my life. Forgive me for not caring. So, instead of discussing the book any more, I will deal with the comments on the back that made me take this book off the bookshelf and pack in my bag for my Metro ride to work. I shall be heaping scorn on the perpetrators of these outright lies in my own time later. 1: "Is there a more innovative blah blah Britain today?" I hope to $DEITY that there is. 2: "The Best New Writer In Britain." Look, I capitalised every word in hope to emphasise that phrase. Does that make it correct? No, Mr. Guardian Newspaper, it doesn't. You are wrong, he is ... not good. 3: "The Beauty of his writing is persuasive and his themes are universal." Thank you, Mr. Times. Persuasive? Maybe to a suicide needing pushed over the edge to thrust his body that extra inch so the weight shifts to the point he cannot stop his fall and eventual death off the window ledge. Universal? No. I could go on saying how I bear no resemblance to the lead character, but seeing as he's a dog, I'd hope that were true. I like cats, see. Next time I see a book about a dog, I will trust my gut and not pick it up.
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