Diving suit and butterfly, by: John Dominique Boppy

Where the available ends, creativity begins, and free souls even if they have become corpses, capable of flying. Two deep lessons from a novel that did not bother with preaching and guidance, for all the writer did was insist on life, and for such a task, a nose and lungs for breathing, a throat to receive food, and a blink of the left eye to facilitate the remaining roles! Yes, that blink of the eye kept John Dominic Bobby fully connected to the world, inventing a way of communication that is the live translation of the word "will." As for the content of the narration, it is a back-and-forth between a capable yesterday and a crippled present, between an outside that is seen and an inside that sees, with no link between chapter and another, or story and another, except that each has occupied a space in memory and emotion. So, in loss, there remains no difference between the trivial and the important, each of us has a share of longing. And the novel, like all great works, digs into questions of essence and the duality of substance and accident, even if it resorts to dark humor, perhaps it only succeeds in that. Is not the writer’s charming spirit the objective equivalent of humor and its lightness, akin to a butterfly? And his troubled body is his tight diving suit, and the darkness is, in fact and metaphor, the color of reality? Number of pages: 121