Maureen Blatt should be just a nice guy. We had already taken from the tasty pills of his hilarious blog (do not miss, here ) and confirms it's approach to writing in her first book. The argument, camouflaged behind the playful title, is the host of music lovers, ie the population that under normal garments, hides and deflected a fierce compulsion to purchase, collection and / or listening to music, preferably on vinyl and on systems that cost five salaries. Be careful, warns us Blatt, they are among us under the guise of the most honest and professional working fathers, and does so from its privileged observation tower a seller of a well-known shop in Turin. A cross between a crib and a picture of Bosch, the bestiary of music lovers has fixed his characters accept their existence with the dominant thought of the crooked music collection. And it is quite uncertain whether, as in Bosch, they are monsters or, indeed, harmless shepherds of Bethlehem and laundresses.
The book begins well, full of gags crackling, described with loving sarcasm Blatt, protagonists who see human figures, let's face it, we might as well be us. Out of the process of identification, however, the book begins to flood the reading gets tired and squares become progressively up to become repetitive indistinti. Ed è un peccato, perchè alcuni spunti sono veramente notevoli.
Da eterno acquirente di dischi e da overquarantenne sabaudo imputo l'impasse a due fattori: il primo, e meno grave, è che nella focalizzazione di Blatto l'empatia che prova per i nevrotici clienti sia un pochettino spuria, e si sente netta la distanza tra il dotto entomologo e l'insettino sotto la lente d'ingrandimento. L'altro fattore, che crediamo sia la malattia esiziale del libro, è che va a cadere oltre la raccolta di aneddoti - si fosse fermato lì sarebbe stato garbatissimo, al limite un po' ripetitivo - per, interpretiamo noi e magari sbagliamo, una recondita pretesa di essere un affresco della torinesità diverted. This is unfortunately a serious syndrome that afflicts most of the subalpine landscape of the scribes. Orphans of the award-winning firm Fruttero & Lucentini, all Culicchi and LITTIZZETTO and Gambarotta and ormezzani - see insert provincialissimo Torinosette - end up frutterolucentinare ad libitum, resulting in have a plethora of squared chestnut, coy of life Minimal Turin. But, alas, the American specialist was quite another thing.
ps: that surfs surfs you find only praise for the book, which multiply the readings and presentations. As the ship of fools (and how Barcarolo Lando Fiorini, we are a blog of music, for God's sake!) The albumbianco prosegue controcorrente. Olè!