If we don't have to read the last two stories, then the Teletubbies say "pa pa, hello." The Teletubbies are a popular children's television show that features four colorful characters with large antennae on their heads. They live in a magical world and have many adventures together. When they greet each other, they often say "pa pa, hello" in a cute and friendly way. This phrase has become well-known among children and fans of the show. It adds a sense of fun and playfulness to their interactions. So, if we're not reading those last two stories, we can imagine the Teletubbies happily saying "pa pa, hello" to each other.

Truly disappointing!

It is such a burden to read. It seems to be a black mark on experimentalism everywhere. What an utter bore it is!

I spent nearly three months wading through it. I really resented having to plod through each page, but I absolutely had to clear it off my nightstand.

In the time it took me to plod through the mere 200 pages of this torturous and soporific book, I managed to read 38 other books.

It's astonishing how much time was wasted on this one book that offered so little in terms of entertainment or intellectual stimulation.

I would not recommend this book to anyone, as it is simply a waste of time and energy.

There are far better books out there that are worth your time and attention.

Nel profondo sono rimasto un arrangiatore.

My greatest pleasure, in the literary field, is to take an existing melody - an ancient narrative poem, a classical myth, a worn-out convention, a fragment of my experience - and, improvising like a jazz musician within its limits, rearrange it for my current purpose.

John Barth, the grandfather of postmodernism. I imagine him as a distinguished yet likable man. I picture him attempting to be a jazz drummer, feeling so inadequate. I envision him serious as he sits behind the professor's desk. I see him living a quiet and anonymous family life while his genius asserts itself in his writings. Already with "The Floating Opera," I felt a particular connection, and then one day at a flea market, I found this magnificent out-of-print edition.

Published in 1968 and in Italy in 1974, it is neither a collection nor a selection. Barth himself says it is a series and that the stories should be received "all together."

Some stories are manifestations of metafiction: in "Lost in the Funhouse," he continues to go in and out of the story with explanations about why the narration is happening and how a story works; in "Title," the narrator keeps talking to himself in a sort of monologue where the grammar "becomes dramatic" and is taken to extremes; in "Life-Story," the writer believes he is a character in the story he is writing about a character who is writing about a writer who... and so on.

Barth writes and has fun, experimenting with allusions, allegories, metanarrative, and virtuosities. However, he is careful to point out: "I don't believe that writing is a display of technical tricks. I'm an admirer of jazz, where technique matters a great deal but what's fundamental is passion. Once, Barthelme, a guest at one of my lectures, told the students that it doesn't matter what you write and what the theme is, the important thing is that it hits you in the stomach. Just like with jazz. It's not about pulling rabbits out of a hat, but rather pulling out a peacock."