Lélu Thomas is a handyman. Artist, photographer, novelist .... In the trendy type, the guy walks daily in the hype among people who rely only for themselves. With "Le Parisien", his third novel, is his life he relates. The one where on Monday he gets up late, breakfast, sleeps with Chloe, lunch, get into an argument with Chloe, texting, meets Peter, Paul and Jacques, takes a drink, sleep with Chloe, texting, dine, go to a party, booze, to re-berates with Chloe, texting, home drunk, sleeps with Chloe and falls asleep. On Tuesday the same. On Wednesday the same. On Thursday, the same, but adds a preview at the cinema. On Friday, the same, but adds an opening. On Saturday the same, but it adds a family visit. Sunday the same, but adds an invitation to stay in a (necessarily) large house with those people who rely . It is sad, gloomy and boring.
Yet, from an author capable of being hilarious (" My name is Jeanne Mass "and" Jacques Daniel Nick Osama "), one could reasonably expect more biting irony and heartfelt. In hindsight," Le Parisien "would have probably won a lot examine a section of population outside circuit where the people are called normal . Refusing (perhaps) to spit in the soup, Thomas Lélu a newspaper book-fiction self grim struggle that sees it as a story can impossible love the way we love each other too to live together . phagocyte tiring posture that the book while the rest is trampling trouble. Evenings, meetings, discussions, everything contributes to stagnation in this infinite Sorry to be spending their time to be timeless, outside the world and its contingencies. Lives running in circles. As everyone in the end?
In dissecting these days listing great detail how Thomas Lélu surely eyeing the side of Brett Easton Ellis. The author attempts to give substance to the narrator, making turns beautiful, stupid, cynical, incomprehensible, sensitive, lost love, affable, lazy, insensitive ... invisible, closed, obtuse. With this humanity, however, the reader is almost never in empathy. In this blatant lack of feeling (s), we say that "Le Parisien", is an aberration, almost easy. Both her two previous novels were shielded imagination as this one tracks daily with gloomy crying. Advertising we have lied Le Parisien, do not necessarily have to log .
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