usually do not write the books I read, for two reasons.
First, I read a lot and it is impossible to review them all ...
Second, I do not feel able to do justice read the words to describe my writing about ...
But this time is different. I can not talk about the last book I read, finished this afternoon ...
This came into the world of Margaret Mazzantini.
prrima The thing that struck me was the cover: colorful, a photograph that makes you understand everything and nothing in history. Already we anticipate that it will not be a novel that will pass unnoticed.
The story I will not tell, because those who are reading or plan to do so must not know anything .. I personally hate those who tell the end user or anticipations about what will happen ..
But we talk about life. Of those who gives it, those who can not give it, who does not want to give it, who takes it, of those who live, who sees from afar, by those who do so through a lens of a camera, of whom the change of If you are looking desperately for a handhold for a living, who knows how to speak, of those who can feel emotions. But it also speaks of war, violence, loneliness, love unconditionally, even if those links that do not know these exist, the strength of a woman, the strength of a man, the Balkans, Sarajevo, of a people .
And finally, as has happened to me only once in my whole "career" of a reader, I cried.
Ok, I'll be sickly sweet, but I am not exaggerating. It 's a book that grabs you in stomach and not leave you until you get to the last line of the last page.
