A couple that arms, disarms, composes, decomposes, and literature there, to narrate the scene as in a game of mirrors. When the danger is small we are
Happy, Victoria Schcolnik's first novel, comes and goes by
the interstices of that relationship, for its vanishing points, its
overlapping madness, its contained violence, its shared loneliness. Precise novel, of tight and sober prose, passion is never a matter of adjectives. The text flows as in the lightness of the minimum perceptions, in the silences
They say a lot, in the friction that is no longer enough.
Portrait of intimacy, figure of an end, the story captures the precise moment in which we had something. But not anymore.