Incipit: Zanardi My name is Andrea and I were born the same day month year to Tom Cruise. The differences between us are basically three, insignificant, he lives in Los Angeles I in Genoa, he is the actor I am a nurse, he married Nicole Kidman and I do not ... Andrea Zanardi is a Casanova in every way. His life is transformed, he is transformed according to the woman who intends to conquer and just manages to get the favor of the latter, his interest immediately vanishes and he finds himself inventing excuses and the most absurd situations to succeed to return to its free state.
What attracts him, then, is the pleasure of conquest, and to that end, every time, he becomes the "ideal man" for each of the women who tip.
Become an anti-globalization for women's emancipation, a guru for the spiritualist Zen and so on.
The narrative is really hilarious. I had never read anything by Licalzi and found it fantastic.
His way of dealing with irony all the clichés of today's stereotypical and ridiculous behavior of some men who call themselves "hunters of success," Eastern philosophy through which many petty "ignoramuses" on planning to reach an interesting position in the eyes of others.
A book to read to smile and laugh, but also to reflect on the superficiality of our times.
Wonderful Saro's character, a man of very little culture, but of great wisdom (in its own way and not always but ...)
Some steps
* the street I turn to look at women, not all women, but those that are worth look, if they carefully watch the car in the rearview mirror until they disappear from my field of vision, or until tamp.
* Mary was as I expected it to be: naive, insecure, easily influenced, but low in culture medium with intellectual pretensions, these four characteristics which, if well mixed, often lead to spiritual fervor, low alloy, high or chronic, depending on the prevalence components.
* The Friends of Mary lived on the Alfa, a grim tower block of one million cubic meters of concrete on the heights of Marassi, where, however, with a good telescope, you could see the stadium or the moon, choice, they were so far the same.
* I told her one hundred and two zen stories. I have made one up myself (that of a Monaco, who was sitting on the bank of a river to wait for it to pass the body of the enemy and that, despite its mysticism, gets fucked in the meantime all those who came within range, but only if they were still alive. In practice, a reinterpretation of the old dear up Western Zen "Just breathe")
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