Since the world is the world, the human being has claimed the immortality of the masterpiece that compares him with the Maker of great things. And at the same time, the simple floating note of perfection gives us a sense of fulfillment that borders both complacency and failure. Louise wrote a children's masterpiece that you laugh at the little prince of Saint Exupery. The question is whether that eternity is bearable in the same way that lightness of being is difficult to bear, which I would say kundera.
The fame of the unpleasant Kimberly Clark Weymouth, a small town eternally plagued by freezing blizzards and lots of snow, and where Louise Feldman set the children's classic Mrs. Potter is not exactly Santa Claus, allowed Randal Peltzer to open a successful souvenir shop. Every day, the city welcomes readers of the eccentric writer and reluctantly lives off her. But what if, fed up with a destination he hasn't chosen, Billy, Randal's son, decides to close the store to move to another city? Could Kimberly Clark Weymouth allow herself to stop being where she has always been and become something else?
Beneath the exuberant prose and boundless imagination of Laura Fernández, hides a solid story about motherhood, creation and renunciation, art as a refuge and the loneliness of the misunderstood, in this cross between a Roahl Dahl novel for adults and a wild and digressive TC Boyle who would have read Joy Williams too much. Mrs. Potter is not exactly Santa Claus tries to blow up the single idea of the existence of the story, or the unique story of what we are, because if we are something, it is an infinity of possibilities.
You can now buyr the novel "Mrs. Potter is not exactly Santa Claus", by Laura Fernández, here:
