An examination of the psychology of the Stalinist totalitarian system from the view of polish poet Czeslaw Milosz. He names several types of self-delusion and describes the fates of some friends he knew who stayed in the Soviet Union. A very interesting and sharp analysis from a time in which it was not yet clear if Communism would fail in it's world-conquering ambitions.

Reads as the self-important ramblings of a solipsistic alcoholic gallivanting through America with no clear goal at all. His journey has not been ordered into anything readable at all: it sits there as a collection of disjointed episodes of youthful confidence, being about and leading to nothing. There is no reflection.
The only thing keeping this at two stars is the sheer enthusiasm of the writing.

Charmingly written, but pretty juvenile. The two main characters are doing some long-distance pining, being idealistic (there's religious imagery) and naïve, playing at 'serious' romance, all in all being the immature teenagers they well, are. The novel does not get much beyond this simple portrayal, but it's ok for what it is.

I read this and 'Quatrieme Pouvoir' in quick succession, and they have a similar problem: Awesome art, terrible writing. The stories make no sense whatsoever, there are no real characters, no plot, no themes tying the picture-sequences together. While the art (especially in Foligatto) is very good, the lack of cohesion really curbs my appreciation, making the overall experience only worthy of two stars, which is a shame.