He says that
"his childhood memories are like dreams",
and then he brings us into that dream and we are dazzled.
Christophe Etemadzadeh is the grandson of a great Iranian poet who was imprisoned and tortured for a long time: Beh-Azin.
It is possible that somewhere in his blood he inherited the genius of his grandfather.
His prose is constantly poetic, like that of a Proust who would explore Lille and its surroundings in the years 1975-1987.
To fully explain how I came to be interested in this unknown French teacher, with a name as unpronounceable as mine, I must describe my working method.
I received 400 novels in December and conscientiously opened them all to the front page.
Most did not win this test but, in order not to get angry with 399 authors, I would point out that their talent is not in question: rather my capricious weariness, my twisted taste, my egotistical subjectivity and my congenital laziness.
After careful reading of the
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