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280 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2011
Plesu's intelligence and reasoned common-sense is impossible to be doubted. He also has a great mastery of the Romanian language that makes for a fairly deep read.
But the texts are just too bloody short. Usually around four pages long, and the pages have big margins and medium-big fonts. So his essays are yes, digestible, but also fairly basic in content. It's just the main idea, usually. Plus he's nowhere as near as funny as Paraschivescu in his criticisms, and oh boy, this book is full to the brim with those. I love critiques, but when they're funnier and longer, things which Plesu fails to deliver. They're smart, yet bleak. Even though the title of the book is About The Forgotten Beauty Of Life it's not really hopeful, there's that text which gives the book its name, but even then, it's plopped randomly in the middle, instead of giving it a proper contrast with the bleakness, placing it at the end.
So yeah, I feel like this book is made for the everyman-philosopher. Profound thoughts, but in really small doses and relying a lot of common-sense. Plesu at this point is unwittingly transformed into a brand. Oh look, even his name is bigger than the title on the book's cover. Not at all for marketing, of course not.