An interesting first person train of thoughts book about a Brazilian ghost writer looking for his place in this world who travels to and stays in Hungary, written entirely without quotation marks even though there is dialogue contained in the many long sentences in paragraphs that typically span four pages, kind of like what I'm doing here but more so.Through José Costa, I was able to hang out with seedy characters in a dumpy bar and then return to a hotel room to play Russian Roulette; to walk out on his wife and girl friend not once, but twice; to throw spazz attacks, and a plate of Spaghetti Bolognese against a kitchen wall; and to then share with him the consequences.
An honest work and a vicarious thrill. I wouldn't call it a love story—it didn't move me along those lines. Oh yeah, you learn a bit of Magyar. His references to and take on the Hungarian language are priceless.
[Why I read this book: author Nicole Krauss likes it]
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