Dany Laferrière is a Haitian-Canadian writer. This book, while billed as fiction, most certainly contains pieces of memories from his own childhood. Like many authors, he spent a sickly childhood in relative solitude. Most days he spends sitting in the gallery with his beloved grandma, watching village life passes by. His grandma dispenses wisdom and advice along with a cup of coffee. Once in a while the boy roams with his friends, gets into trouble.

There is really no plot, no beginning or ending to the story. Just a collection of characters who pass by grandma's house, a little excitement now and then, a bit of gossips over coffee. It captures the life of the Haitian village vividly, but if you prefers stories with stronger plots, then this book is definitely not your cup of coffee.

This book was originally published in French. As a thin volume I plan to save it for release at the Bordeaux BC convention.

This is a perfect book to release at the BC convention in Bordeaux, as it was originally in French and written by an author living in Miami.

Hi! How wonderful you've found one of my books! Thank you so much for checking out the journal. I would really appreciate if you can take a moment to let me know you have it now. Trust me, it'll totally make my day to hear from one of my "wild" books.

Bookcrossing is a wonderful online community of book lovers dedicated to sharing books with each other and the world at large. We are also curious to see how far and wide our books can travel. I would appreciate if you can make a journal entry on this book so we know where the book has been. You don't have to set up an account.

Feel free to keep this book, return it to where you found it, or pass it on to the next reader. If you sign up as a member, you will hear from the book as it travels and gets journaled. Feel free to explore the BookCrossing site, and visit our forum to meet other booklovers. Membership is confidential, free, and spam-free. Happy reading!

You brought great books!

I read this book during my flight from Bordeaux to Paris. I somehow expected a story to develop but it never did. I liked the book all the same.

Now I need some coffee!

Zählt für Haiti.

Greetings from Stuttgart!

I will take the book to the UnCon in Ipswich next week.

Liebe Finderin, lieber Finder,

Gratulation, dass Du dieses Buch gefunden hast! Ich hoffe, es gefällt Dir. Du hast nicht nur ein Buch, sondern eine ganze Gemeinschaft von Leserinnen und Lesern gefunden, die Bücher lieben. Schau Dir die Seite mal an!

Vielen Dank! Es freut mich ein Buch zu finden, das durch viele verschiedene Laender gereist hat.

To be left upstairs.

Found upstairs. Looks amusing. Nice to find a real world traveller. Thanks for the free book, Folks. Will read and release.

thanks for the heads up about the lack of plot. Knowing this going in served me well as I would have looked for one. There can’t be a plot as time does not flow in this book in quite the normal way. The tense is constantly changing. It must have taken the author (and translator) absolutely ages to write, exerting such technical control over every sentence. I appreciated reading a book that had had such care taken over it.

But time isn’t irrelevant to the characters. History is oral and each character has a different version. The future is foretold in dreams. In other words the past is a rumour and a future a dream. Great stuff.

There’s a lot going on in this book, one of them being the coupling of disparate elements. Take chapter one, the sections The Park, Animals and The Game. First the idyll of the horses grazing, but they’re injured. Then the boys playing football beside them, but one has green flies in its eye. That coupling of an idyll and disease. Then the boy injured by the horse who eats all the leeches. That coupling of disease and humour. Finally the boys playing football until darkness falls. Darkness representing death here. These are themes and images that are returned to again many times in this, what, prose poem?

It’s also very funny. I loved the bit with the inkwells and the little blue penises.

I’m lending this to Jo. Don’t expect a journal entry from her. Then I’ll try to get it over another international border.

On the shelf with the other books.