I think it’s the first time I throw a book in the paper recycling bin. After reading it, I confined it in a limbo bookshelf  where it kept bad company to other italian books for many years (maybe ten).

I remember buying it with mild expectations, mostly because I had enjoyed a previous book from the same author (Jack Frusciante è uscito dal gruppo, Enrico Brizzi) but I was not so sure that a second book would be a good idea. Alas, it wasn’t: teenage anger gave way to cheap nihilism, and inspiration from The Catcher in the Rye (required reading for the first book…) was diluted with flavourings from A Clockwork Orange, saving nothing but clichés.