Flying deer

I hardly ever write things about books I have read as most of the time, I would not be able to do any better anyway. And writing about books is just reducing them to a miserable/badly written pitch not telling you anything about it anyway.

But about this one…
I don’t know…

It’s like when…
You know…


You finish a book and the only thing you can think of is getting back to the first page and start again.
Or when you have the feeling when you shut it one last time that you’ve lost good friends…

When furthermore than telling you a story, a book is teaching you something about yourself, other people around or the entire humanity.
I know that all books should do that even though only a very few do.



Getting a big slap on your face.


An awakening.



I actually got the same feeling than when passing in the street I see someone who looks like someone I know when he/she will be older or was younger…

Travelling in the past or in the future, at times gone so long ago.


I met myself in a book.



about Les cerfs-volants by Romain Gary