You've probably never read a book like this. Entertaining, morbid, even downright deranged. Written at a hectic pace full of twists and turns. And above all, narrative, everything in it is full of story. "The Chinese Man Who Read a Newspaper While Waiting for the Gallows," the first Hebrew translation of the works of the Argentine writer Ricardo Streppsé, opens with a flirtation between a Laconian patient and a novice writer, takes on a surrealistic tone, escapes into the realms of detective fiction, and leads us by the nose from beginning to end, with pure pleasure that doesn't need many words about it. The book opens like this: "Friday, seven in the evening, Palermo neighborhood. Neither hot nor cold. Or cold and hot at the same time. The clouds are drawing something in the sky, the wind is caressing, and a series of seven days of vacation — this is Argentina — is imminent. The country is ruled by a government that no longer knows what to do to increase the happiness of the people. And since it does not know what to do — nothing comes to its mind — from time to time it declares the entire week a vacation. Under these circumstances, Gabriela, a girl whose beauty surpasses all imagination, is sitting in a bar, at the best table, by the window, dressed, as usual, for happiness or madness." "Strepsa works intelligently and without restraint on material materials and urban waste, which he transforms into contemporary works of art." Walter Campanella "Ricardo Streepsa's books are an organic encyclopedia of South American avant-garde movements from the second half of the twentieth century." Malena Orquiza "There are no pleasures that compare to reading a book by Streepsa on the beach, facing the sea, a beer on the side, between smiles and loud and shameless laughter. Unexpected materials await you with every page" Enrique Vizgas