Joycean streams of consciousness written with all the commas in the right place, sudden changes of register, wild fantasies of a restless mind, lucidity and clarity descriptive piece by piece so neurotic. We are faced with all this reading I slums exist, the main story of the collection A normal person - the slums do not exist and other stories shameless of Julia C. - Aka ![[info]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_uQG2U7LTX0BrKJmGdkrjO_0R2JP87tuhFGOP5ruCRuK-n7d0VV6-9tZ6wnwh2G-dlGuPpLAcoUw5IRD4m_DbgPTh8gDXr6A-4YwvH9tyKAbhc_WQ=s0-d)
giuvax , a young writer bell become famous for more blogs than a human mind can imagine and for having created the popular web community ![[info]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_vTDeBhzUzhLvsNJMYvE6AxIlMjbByBQGJ5ymULKv3NfiKXBG_zgJwa8PD9iEdX6OASrK91KZ4gcJJ-eer_SzEzyE2YnMV-cwPjgbueZIWtAFjp4FOV1A=s0-d)
rompicats . The Lower Depths is a non-existent ensemble crowds of narrative fragments, a building made with pieces do not fit, a shake-free connection of perceptions. The plot, the fabric, history have no meaning, and the reader - wrong-footed and confused - can not help but suffer the tidal wave made of thoughts and liquefied upset that the project, in the short space of fourteen dense pages, within the hallucinations of the self narrative. The strength of this young author's writing lies in the way it manages to mix elements contradictory topoi classical and postmodern experiments, descriptions, and speculations existential narratives in a giant blender cerebralemotivo. Who is the protagonist of this story? The mind, I crystallized the author? No, that overwhelms the ego and stuns the poor reader with tons of other ideas and delusions that the card is not unaware of a mad mosaic behind which does not hide any figure, a piece of a patchwork made of different fabrics and irreconcilable. This is, in hindsight, the real weakness and extreme contradiction This story, yet so charming and well written: it is a true story (but - warning - not even a jumble of diaries, as it may seem after a cursory reading). There is no structure capable of supporting stories and visions. There is too in The Lower Depths nonexistent, too much even for the author, a victim of its excess of virtuosity, unable to dominate and shape the chaos of all the universes of his own mind. In short, if someone asked me if I liked the story, that I could not say no, because I slums exist is not a story. 
is an envelope full of different puzzle pieces, not a real puzzle where you can slowly and patiently build a figure, even absurd or incomprehensible, but the result of assembly of shapes made to be embedded. The cards should be able to match if you want to create a design, an idea, just a story, otherwise remain only fragments of different designs put together without any purpose, just to make the river in full flood of his own thoughts (but then it would be fair keep the words and hide the rest of the world, inevitably destined not to understand [1]). A narrator is one who takes your soul and your guts, winks and makes you jump in front of his creation [2]. The author comes close to us at different times, some lines The Slum de nonexistent are pure energy, intense and bursting [3], the problem is that some lines are not enough, a true creation is integral, not built through the juxtaposition of so many minicreazioni can cause minisussulti unrelated to each other. The story is therefore non-existent, but some micro-are sublime. 
The lucid description of the non-dialogue with his father, for example, succeeds in a few lines to project the reader into the psyche of the characters and the sequence of thoughts, behaviors and events that brought them through endless ramifications of that interview- soliloquy "in the kitchen, late at night, over a cup of milk that sucks." The meeting with the baby on a bench by the lake and with a stranger in front of a window, the reflections on the hands that smell of wine and "cattiveggiare" the streets are like pictures taken with a precision lens that are printed in the mind of reader. All this, however, is not enough. Giulia C. have the talent and the true writer, but for now is a slave of enormous potential that can not handle. She lacks the ability (or maybe just the desire) to give birth to a plot, a story with a path, as labyrinthine, to be followed. The player is lost looking for a way to help him understand (not rationally explain or understand - in this case would not make sense - but just to understand) and he can not find, because in the words of Julia C. there is no path, or at least a route is really only understandable by the same author. In summary, and finally, the humble author of this brief review it is confronted with a substantial lack of narrative structure coupled with a massive force of writing. The author is very young, however, and can only improve (this is a commonplace, in reality often gets worse over time ... Orson Welles and Maradona teach). Judgement is then temporarily suspended, but I am firmly convinced that Julia C. is a writer with the power they capital that, sooner or later be able to dominate his creative genius [4] and will give us something great.
Giulia C., The Lower Depths nonexistent, published in the collection A normal person - the slums do not exist and other stories shameless , Adelphi, 232 pp., 12 €
[1] Just say, as does the author in the preface of the story, the reader must "imagine feelings sound emotions conflicts pain, only a few words [...]. Who does not understand will obviously out. "? Is this not an excuse to bariccheggiare in freedom?
[2] Yes, like a serial killer.
[3] Yes, like the bubble bath.
[4] What is certain is that it already dominates the market, given that his book became a best seller and has sold 57,000 copies in three weeks (some argue that this incredible success is due to the so-called effect Melissa P. , but that's another story).
giuvax , a young writer bell become famous for more blogs than a human mind can imagine and for having created the popular web community rompicats . The Lower Depths is a non-existent ensemble crowds of narrative fragments, a building made with pieces do not fit, a shake-free connection of perceptions. The plot, the fabric, history have no meaning, and the reader - wrong-footed and confused - can not help but suffer the tidal wave made of thoughts and liquefied upset that the project, in the short space of fourteen dense pages, within the hallucinations of the self narrative. The strength of this young author's writing lies in the way it manages to mix elements contradictory topoi classical and postmodern experiments, descriptions, and speculations existential narratives in a giant blender cerebralemotivo. Who is the protagonist of this story? The mind, I crystallized the author? No, that overwhelms the ego and stuns the poor reader with tons of other ideas and delusions that the card is not unaware of a mad mosaic behind which does not hide any figure, a piece of a patchwork made of different fabrics and irreconcilable. This is, in hindsight, the real weakness and extreme contradiction This story, yet so charming and well written: it is a true story (but - warning - not even a jumble of diaries, as it may seem after a cursory reading). There is no structure capable of supporting stories and visions. There is too in The Lower Depths nonexistent, too much even for the author, a victim of its excess of virtuosity, unable to dominate and shape the chaos of all the universes of his own mind. In short, if someone asked me if I liked the story, that I could not say no, because I slums exist is not a story. is an envelope full of different puzzle pieces, not a real puzzle where you can slowly and patiently build a figure, even absurd or incomprehensible, but the result of assembly of shapes made to be embedded. The cards should be able to match if you want to create a design, an idea, just a story, otherwise remain only fragments of different designs put together without any purpose, just to make the river in full flood of his own thoughts (but then it would be fair keep the words and hide the rest of the world, inevitably destined not to understand [1]). A narrator is one who takes your soul and your guts, winks and makes you jump in front of his creation [2]. The author comes close to us at different times, some lines The Slum de nonexistent are pure energy, intense and bursting [3], the problem is that some lines are not enough, a true creation is integral, not built through the juxtaposition of so many minicreazioni can cause minisussulti unrelated to each other. The story is therefore non-existent, but some micro-are sublime. The lucid description of the non-dialogue with his father, for example, succeeds in a few lines to project the reader into the psyche of the characters and the sequence of thoughts, behaviors and events that brought them through endless ramifications of that interview- soliloquy "in the kitchen, late at night, over a cup of milk that sucks." The meeting with the baby on a bench by the lake and with a stranger in front of a window, the reflections on the hands that smell of wine and "cattiveggiare" the streets are like pictures taken with a precision lens that are printed in the mind of reader. All this, however, is not enough. Giulia C. have the talent and the true writer, but for now is a slave of enormous potential that can not handle. She lacks the ability (or maybe just the desire) to give birth to a plot, a story with a path, as labyrinthine, to be followed. The player is lost looking for a way to help him understand (not rationally explain or understand - in this case would not make sense - but just to understand) and he can not find, because in the words of Julia C. there is no path, or at least a route is really only understandable by the same author. In summary, and finally, the humble author of this brief review it is confronted with a substantial lack of narrative structure coupled with a massive force of writing. The author is very young, however, and can only improve (this is a commonplace, in reality often gets worse over time ... Orson Welles and Maradona teach). Judgement is then temporarily suspended, but I am firmly convinced that Julia C. is a writer with the power they capital that, sooner or later be able to dominate his creative genius [4] and will give us something great. Giulia C., The Lower Depths nonexistent, published in the collection A normal person - the slums do not exist and other stories shameless , Adelphi, 232 pp., 12 €
[1] Just say, as does the author in the preface of the story, the reader must "imagine feelings sound emotions conflicts pain, only a few words [...]. Who does not understand will obviously out. "? Is this not an excuse to bariccheggiare in freedom?
[2] Yes, like a serial killer.
[3] Yes, like the bubble bath.
[4] What is certain is that it already dominates the market, given that his book became a best seller and has sold 57,000 copies in three weeks (some argue that this incredible success is due to the so-called effect Melissa P. , but that's another story).
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