I'm not finding it easy to start this review. I've given it several turns and looked for the right angle to talk about it, but the truth is that there isn't one. Or at least I haven't found it. So, since there was no way to find what I was looking for -which I'm not sure what it was either, to tell you the truth-, I decided to sit in front of my computer and let myself go. Well, actually it's my ideas that have to fly away because they're the owners of this review and these impressions. And it couldn't be otherwise, given the subject matter of this book, so without further delay, I'm going to tell you about it. It is Suicide Club, a novel written by Luis Méndez that is quite difficult to classify. When I arrived I thought I had a mystery book in front of me, perhaps a thriller or crime novel, but soon - at twenty pages or so - I realized that nothing was going in the right direction. Because this book could be described more like a philosophical treatise, bridging the gap, than as