First review of the book "La Milonga of chestnuts cooked" by Francesco Olivieri, signed by Donatello Bellomo, chief editor of the Culture and Entertainment section of the Journal of Verona "Arena".
so to speak, but there is some truth to throw into question the non-sense and best pun of Woody Allen, that still did not dare to make a Bergman. 'Sleeper', for example, self-conscious of self-referential irony, cynical enough, and above all, fun.
Wanting to go uphill, like any self-injurious calm, Francesco Olivieri calls his "La milonga of cooked chestnuts (Publisher Leone) controromanzo a pop. A state would take it seriously that a "controromanzo" has nothing to say and then, which is not the intellectual à la page because the "pop" of dandruff has only the complacency of the self-proclaimed music critics of the province. Does not have the physical is a big boy and big man-un'agra ability to teasing that picks up too many comparisons around. Perhaps, he gets angry with everyone, from the first cry now just to say "I am here." Good for him, stating that nothing less than satisfied Pulsatilla in his muses. Indeed, no, because not satisfied and you can tell by reading between the lines the daily news that we propina, by his coming into the world after a labor that lasted around a clock and a whole lot 'of existential disharmony a bit 'and he likes a little' no. But they do not free. I flip through the calendar is like the counting of ballots by a scrutineer who is always all'oppozione, whatever the current government or what is about to be elected. Olivieri down the cardboard ballot box, he counts his notebook and put together a trip that seems young, always ask "I am I doing here." Friends, girls, university, work, religion. Almost nothing is wrong but it's no surprise [...]
To read the full review click here .
so to speak, but there is some truth to throw into question the non-sense and best pun of Woody Allen, that still did not dare to make a Bergman. 'Sleeper', for example, self-conscious of self-referential irony, cynical enough, and above all, fun.
Wanting to go uphill, like any self-injurious calm, Francesco Olivieri calls his "La milonga of cooked chestnuts (Publisher Leone) controromanzo a pop. A state would take it seriously that a "controromanzo" has nothing to say and then, which is not the intellectual à la page because the "pop" of dandruff has only the complacency of the self-proclaimed music critics of the province. Does not have the physical is a big boy and big man-un'agra ability to teasing that picks up too many comparisons around. Perhaps, he gets angry with everyone, from the first cry now just to say "I am here." Good for him, stating that nothing less than satisfied Pulsatilla in his muses. Indeed, no, because not satisfied and you can tell by reading between the lines the daily news that we propina, by his coming into the world after a labor that lasted around a clock and a whole lot 'of existential disharmony a bit 'and he likes a little' no. But they do not free. I flip through the calendar is like the counting of ballots by a scrutineer who is always all'oppozione, whatever the current government or what is about to be elected. Olivieri down the cardboard ballot box, he counts his notebook and put together a trip that seems young, always ask "I am I doing here." Friends, girls, university, work, religion. Almost nothing is wrong but it's no surprise [...]
To read the full review click here .
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