I actually read this awhile ago but reread it recently (and I neverrrrr reread stuff so that’s saying smth) because it’s such a fun, experiential read. I am a sucker for a good metafictional shtick (been also meaning to reread Paul Auster’s New York Trilogy, so maybe bit of a theme there to what I feel compelled to reread)
“...we can not love or think except in fragments of time each of which goes along its own trajectory and immediately disappears."
second calvino of the year after invisible cities. very meta, which in less serious hands could become cloying. it manages to work out.
you (the real you, not the second perspective protagonist of most of the book) will think about the act of reading in a different way by the end of it, or at least become more conscious of it. so read if you like to read and read about reading.
I know it’s probably better for the environment that movie tickets aren’t printed but damn I love a physical copy of my ticket. Get home, put it in a little box, look back on it a few months later and be like yeah that was a great movie.
So underrated literally the best thing, hot, cold, in a salad, in a soup, on their own; they’re the perfect component. I don’t care about the farts I’m gonna fart anyway, might as well do it while enjoying some beans.
