I read this book after watching a travel
program on Mexico in which Cacucci was gallivanting around the country with a
couple of Italian comedians. Now that I think about it, there isn’t much to say
about the novel: it’s just a series of wacky adventures that lead the main
character to end up in the Mexican village of Puerto Escondido.
It’s just that – not a masterpiece, not a work
of great literature – but it’s absolutely lovely, and isn’t this what reading
(at times, not always!) should be about?
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