**** A novel for writers
This is a novel that I believe can be particularly appreciated only by those who are writers and aspire to become (or are) novelists, preferably successful ones, or by those who are fascinated by the author’s craft.
The story is about writing and authors with their extraordinary lives. And in all of this, we find the theft of Fitzgerald’s original manuscripts and the way in which an author who has published only one novel and hasn’t really written for years, due to financial constraints, becomes a spy in a circle of friends that includes some fellow authors and other insiders to unmask the person who is keeping the stolen goods.
The funniest part of the story is precisely the romantic characterisation of this world, which bears only a minimal connection to the everyday reality of the vast majority of authors, who cannot afford to say, as the protagonist does, that they don’t want to do another job, but would rather write another book, as if this represented the certainty of obtaining a financial return from which to support themselves.
I read it with pleasure, but given the way it is narrated, stingy with pathos, I don’t know to what extent it could be appreciated by a generic reader who cares little about how books are written and how a professional (or aspiring) author lives or would like to live their life.
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