impression, after a careful reading, as well as non-reading and I have not read Cormac-is that (a name of a lion) is not then the whole drum is mindful of stuff. The thing that whale now is complacency vain for his style very rich beautiful images and sounds. The writer fails to me to be silent, which is most necessary measure to open up a great whistle. That of the cold blade. Or remains hanging in the air with his hand ammodellata to slap the ball, but does not crush anything, jumps for the pleasure of the suspension pleased, to see the package, the envelope is left on the strings of the network.
It comes out a sort of baroque moderate and almost unwanted, in the intention. Cormac degl'eccessi not exaggerating for the sake of form, for further grotesque distortion (not there); exaggerating to show off skills, placing a level almost the entire page that tapering because the whole mountain, not keeping pads authoritative. In addition to having very little sense of humor. His vanity pages ooze, exude the VIRTUOSITY , vanity, vain, and stirred a concretion of the ego, the body that the twentieth century has fortunately packed and unpacked in its aggressive course, freedom for some lucky one!
These things, which may look like crap, really, is not shit if you think Mc Carthy won (and rightly add a premium to) the Pulitzer. An award that would place it on the line of the twentieth century Alto (I hope not to be misunderstood), the twentieth century bloated. In fact, the premiums are used to credit and pay homage to a work or a personality, underlie recognition, say a rispolveratina a manicure. Children are rewarded with the sniper school plays or the circle of bowling in the tournament.
genes if they infottono premiums.
With this, I do not mean that the Cormac lion is a bad writer, but to walk a bit 'on the skin did. Rather, I mean that do not belong all'alveo artists of genius, but to those of talent, it is right to write things vain and enjoyable. It is not a designer, is a very good teller of proportion. Will always remain above the monster lipperiniani like Stephen King or Aldus Nine or that scrap of Philip Roth. It 'more work and heard, Cormac, but I do not live too far away from the central square. That's all.
(it is said, everything from that one often reads novels (and finds them beautiful), adoration of the western genre, as an incurable disease, by Leo John Wayne by Tex Bud Spencer & Terence Hill ... well ... Bill Cocco)
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