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176 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2020
hey but you don't mention any muse you only talk about extreme and senseless violence you talk about really disgusting things stories of perverts rapists sexism and murderers are youmax besora does it again! following the triumphant hilarity of his first book in translation, the adventures and misadventures of the extraordinary and admirable joan orpí, conquistador and founder of new catalonia, the barcelona-born author's second book to be rendered from the catalan is even more ridiculous, ribald, and irreverent. whereas joan orpí was a shit-tonne of fun (and how!), the fake muse (la musa fingida) has more than a ton of shit... and sex and violence and humor and hijinks and waggishness and aberrant ingenuity and self-referential shamelessness.
sick in the head or what he says to me besides you don't even know how to write you seem illiterate why don't you write literature that everybody likes about the post-war period or a middle-class family that's what sells you can get famous and win a prize
you illiterate stupidized young people you are the decay of culture the colon cancer of this country if joan orpí the great founder of the neocatalan homeland came back from the dead he would immediately commit suicide just hearing this linguistic bastardization said one of the butchers visibly annoyedwho needs a lit mag when you could have a lit rag instead?! the fake muse is a delight from start to finish — if some 300,000 pages too short. no doubt this book would be offensive to many, but any reader would know from the very first page whether this belletristic tabloid of a novel is for them. the structure, the form, the characters, the language, the dialogue, the metatextuality, the utter derangement of the story, it's all so magnificently deviant, making for a maniacal gambol through a garden of indecency.