Shreds of his own writings, swings of conjectures that do not disdain his vital gestures as a correlate of his aesthetic project and vice versa, are articulated in a work that, with a good rhythm, "says" precisely about the impossibility of encompassing Macedonio Fernández. And it says, in fact, about a work that is always challenging, whose most exquisite legacy is perhaps, for this time of turn-of-the-century transition, the attitude of playful and derogatory suspicion towards everything that is proposed as certainty and dogma. (Andrea Guiú)
