Hopscotch Cortazar

Oh boy. What a fucking ride. Hopscotch is one of those strange inventions from bohemian Paris, chock full of ironic philosophical meanderings, self-reflexivity, nomadic desire. Oliviea gets lost. More lost. Lost until lost couldn't be found, the dialectic ruined. I have many things to say about this book. But I'll hold off until I read it again.