If you have never read Boris Vian before, please do not start with this book:) The work, which his wife wrote as a gift during the nekahet period and decorated with drawings with his friend, is "debatable" with its literary value and what he wants to tell.
Due to the fact that it is too short, I thought I was missing something, and as soon as I finished it, I returned to it.
Although I liked fantastic narratives, I was unable to both make sense of the work and love it. An absurd fairy tale was tried to be told, but at that time, I think our twenty-three-year-old writer kept it only as a harbinger of his future works.
My humble advice is to say hello to reading Vian with "Foam of Days". Believe me, I rarely experience this situation, I have run out of words about the book:) I didn't get it on my recommendation list.
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