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3.56 AVERAGE
3.56 AVERAGE
LoUn poquito a la nuestro hombre en la Habana otro tanto a la nouveau Román y borisvianesca ,
Ese realismo que más que absurdo se enfoca en lo innecesario , la mirada se posa lo stesso en cosas en personas,
la trama en cuanto tal es lo de menos, aquí un deconstruct del gasto expenditure y la burocracia del espionaje, la ciencia va para allá, la entomología ya superada...
Jefes espiandose por espiar , al final solo cambian de puestos , un pretexto para jubilar, el amor no es un vínculo tan poderoso..
Divertidaza, memorable el microscopio , no es tan experimental que sea posthumano
Franck Chopin , Suzy Clair... los gorilas guarura a lo lejos , el acuarelista infiltrado , el coronel Seck, Vital Veber...
Los impulsos ya idos de la guerra fría clave catarsis
Ese realismo que más que absurdo se enfoca en lo innecesario , la mirada se posa lo stesso en cosas en personas,
la trama en cuanto tal es lo de menos, aquí un deconstruct del gasto expenditure y la burocracia del espionaje, la ciencia va para allá, la entomología ya superada...
Jefes espiandose por espiar , al final solo cambian de puestos , un pretexto para jubilar, el amor no es un vínculo tan poderoso..
Divertidaza, memorable el microscopio , no es tan experimental que sea posthumano
Franck Chopin , Suzy Clair... los gorilas guarura a lo lejos , el acuarelista infiltrado , el coronel Seck, Vital Veber...
Los impulsos ya idos de la guerra fría clave catarsis
Here's a delightful writer who, like James Sallis, Jerome Charyn, or Paul Auster, appropriates genre conventions in wildly original, amusing ways. It would seem we're in a spy novel. A one-legged agent is sent to surveille entomologist Franck Chopin, who in turn is set on the trail of government official Vital Veber and his entourage as they vacation in a resort hotel, using ingenious gadgets to track their every move. Betrayals and unsuspected alliances surface, plots reverse themselves, romance flares, appearances deceive, and ambiguity abounds. But in the end there really is no point at all, and the top-secret bureau supposedly pulling the strings, the so-called "Steering Committee," is in truth steering us nowhere. While there are some amusing gags, such as Chopin's gadgets — houseflies with tiny microphones — the real joy of this book is not the flow of the absurd plot, but the glorious eddies and refractions along the way. Many books have an occasional turn of phrase that delights, the line that makes you stop and sigh or smile at its ingenuity. Chopin’s Move overflows with them — wonderfully expressive metaphors and quirky observations that in their miniature perfection recall the melodic dalliances of the original Chopin. In the end, this humoresque is a stylistic triumph, and much credit has to go to translator Mark Polizzotti, who does an amazing job of finding English equivalents for Echenoz's gems, and to Dalkey Archive, a publisher worth following.
funny
lighthearted
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
funny
lighthearted
mysterious
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
Here's a delightful writer who, like James Sallis, Jerome Charyn, or Paul Auster, appropriates genre conventions in wildly original, amusing ways. It would seem we're in a spy novel. A one-legged agent is sent to surveille entomologist Franck Chopin, who in turn is set on the trail of government official Vital Veber and his entourage as they vacation in a resort hotel, using ingenious gadgets to track their every move. Betrayals and unsuspected alliances surface, plots reverse themselves, romance flares, appearances deceive, and ambiguity abounds. But in the end there really is no point at all, and the top-secret bureau supposedly pulling the strings, the so-called "Steering Committee," is in truth steering us nowhere. While there are some amusing gags, such as Chopin's gadgets — houseflies with tiny microphones — the real joy of this book is not the flow of the absurd plot, but the glorious eddies and refractions along the way. Many books have an occasional turn of phrase that delights, the line that makes you stop and sigh or smile at its ingenuity. Chopin’s Move overflows with them — wonderfully expressive metaphors and quirky observations that in their miniature perfection recall the melodic dalliances of the original Chopin. In the end, this humoresque is a stylistic triumph, and much credit has to go to translator Mark Polizzotti, who does an amazing job of finding English equivalents for Echenoz's gems, and to Dalkey Archive, a publisher worth following.
Like everything I've read by Echenoz so far, this novel is a strange delight: it's a spy novel that strips away the "point" of a spy novel -- the secrets, the surprises, the big reveal -- and delivers only the structure and shape of the genre, in exuberant language and crisp detail. There are intrigues, and shadowy figures (like the one-legged courier), and behind-the-scenes machinations, but none of that is the point. Or maybe the fact that it isn't the point is the point... one or the other, perhaps. Reading Chopin's Move is a bit like watching a magic show, in that you know it's all sleight of hand with little or nothing of any firmness behind it, but done so well you're more than willing to go along with the illusion as long as it lasts. The sheer energy of the performance is the thing, but that, too, raises questions about how much more interesting our own lives become when we fill them with codes and intrigues -- even meaningless ones.