Remember when I said an author is the worst person to write a synopsis of her own work? I have an amendment:
The worst synopsis in existence is the synopsis–written by the author–that has then been translated into another language by an intern.
These are just a few excerpts from a 2-page synopsis that landed on my desk the other day:
Actors, witnesses and protagonists of their time, narrate this experience?
The knife turns against the time because without a doubt there is other forms of subversion and enchantment.
This is about wounds, and moments of joy and beauty that has never forgotten.
A bitter, emaciated comedy, of brutal smile of cruel theater. A rare comedy: where the laughter gains the game to him.
She sees the shadows at night. The contracted faces and the stones. But also, the images of the forest and the river…
In any case, the vertiginous, or the unusual thing, is not his death, but its conversion in another thing: dust will be, more enamored dust, seems to say to us at end of the play.
I wonder what Query Hell would have to say about this.