“Without
Feathers” gathers eighteen small humorous pieces (one-act plays, small essays,
short stories and diary considerations), some of them previously published by The
New Yorker, written by vintage Woody Allen.
The short
stories are alright, exception made for one or two that are hilarious, such as “The
Whore of Mensa” – the story of a man that gets involved with “intellectual
prostitutes”, that rather than having physical intercourse, they satisfy their
customers by having deep literary and intellectual discussions – or “If the
Impressionists Had Been Dentists” – which basically present us to some letters
that Vincent Van Gogh would have written if he had been a dentist (rolled on
the floor laughing with this one). Other than these two short pieces and maybe
another one or two, the remaining are just ok. Expect tons of non-sense and
absurd plot/action twists, Woody style.
What really
makes the book worth it, are the two one-act plays. Seriously, I laughed
non-stop in “Death”, a play in which Woody Allen brilliantly explores the old
myth of Death and how she comes to the world to take you with her. The other
play, “God”, gives you the chance to meet a bunch of characters, with no
connection with each other whatsoever, that know that they are nothing but creations
of Woody Allen on stage, and that are capable of getting in touch with him by
phone. The play explores some deep issues as the existence of God or what is
real in life, but all that in wit and intelligent fashion.
Make no mistake, it is Woody all over, and so,
if you’re not into his humor you will probably dislike this book. If you like
Woody Allen’s movies, I truly recommend you this reading.
1 comentário:
Nunca sei bem definir o Woody. Embora as histórias dele me deliciem, sinto sempre que falta algo, mas isso deve estar com o meu gosto pessoal.
Enviar um comentário