Sumptuous. The story is set in a tree inhabited by the people, trees, human beings like ourselves strong, apart from size 2 mm to break everything, and also falls under the tree, which remains the nation grass.
It leaves little hero, Toby Lolness, 13 years, but it is a strange and remarkable that reveals his adventures through the pages, an original world that does not have the impression of having read a thousand times, although other authors have imagined life to be smaller than us (Swift and Gulliver's Travels to Pratchett and ledger gnomes).
The many characters are strikingly portrayed and individualized, the heroes are of depth sometimes shining like the romantic and unforgettable heroine what Elisha, and their opponents are Rabelaisian to perfection, a whole gallery Tronche grotesque and hilarious to imagine that anything more than words, many more besides (brilliantly) as evil beasts. truculent are the adventures of Tobias, chased by his people because of his father, intractable scholar and Green who wants to reveal the secrets of his invention dangerous for the tree, Toby meets betrayal, cruelty, love, friendship, sacrifice, all these things in the normal and epic novels of initiation for teenagers, but I never get tired, especially when similarly fed and finely mastered on a breathless pace that does not reflect political or philosophical, sentimental or breaks a modesty and delicacy of another time.
Just as Proust, characters reappear in a different light, circles unexpected close up in the intrigue, and even the final lines light up and make everything smooth and bigger than all of its parts. And Queneau as in the rigorous construction and architecture that reveal themselves in the knowledge of the whole work once completed the two volumes, the secret and the fate of each character revealed, even minor.
The world is beautiful when seen up to weevil, life is always complicated, but nobody has invented anything better to replace it. And no one really invented the literature better than to dream.
Preview:
At the bottom of the tree, before making landfall, the wood of the trunk is raised and form the highest mountain ranges.
Arrows, bottomless abysses ... Looks like the surface of the bark is sometimes ragged, sometimes wavy like the folds of a curtain. The forests of moss clinging to the mountains and catch snowflakes in winter. Ivy vines with his mouth all the passages between the valleys. It is a country impassable and dangerous.
Digging bark at the bottom of the canyons, we sometimes find the remains of unlucky adventurers who have ventured into these mountains. Over time, wood has finally digest them. We discover a compass, a pair of spikes or a skull than a quarter of a millimeter. That is all that remains of their heroic dreams.
Yet among these inhospitable mountains, there is a small protected valley where it would install a cottage property to spend Christmas under the duvet listening to the fireplace roar. A green valley that collects rain water in a small pond surrounded by soft bark.
only inhabitant of the area, a wood louse came every morning to graze a little greenery.
ago in the tree many corners of paradise we had better leave the gentiles woodlice.
