La décima novela de Salman Rushdie acaba de salir en Inglaterra The Enchantress of Florence (Jonathan Cape) ubicada en el siglo XVI y sucede simultáneamente en dos ciudades espejos: Florencia y la corte de Mughal. En "The Guardian" Tim Adams ha publicado una reseña en la que, al parecer, Rushdie regresa a uno de sus más viejos lastres (algunos personajes estereotipados y declamativos) pero también a su estupenda capacidad para convertir cualquier historia, incluso la más violenta y contemporánea como en Shalimar, el payaso, en una fábula cargada de profundo significado. Dice la reseña:
By contrast with Calvino, Rushdie's rhetoric can, as a result, sometimes seem all pomp and circumstance. In this fictional world, no one is drawn at human scale and no drama resists melodrama. The emperor has all sorts of factotums; he employs a servant to compliment him, a man who 'proudly held the rank of Imperial Flatterer First Class, and was a master of the ornate, old-school style known as cumulative fawning'. Of all the jobs in history, it is the one you feel Rushdie could easily have made his own. In among this languid glitter, the book does not develop arguments as such; characters are rather occasionally prone to a rush of epigram and aphorism. The whole, though, is the latest instalment in Rushdie's lifelong manifesto for the transformative power of narrative, for the storyteller as the conductor of all the world's chaos. (In this sense, once again, Rushdie emerges as the hero of his own fiction, the man who can shape and shift like no other.) He has always created the sense of the novelist as plate-spinner: keeping an unlikely number of tales in the air, darting among them to give each one further momentum just as it starts to wobble. The Enchantress of Florence is a virtuoso demonstration of this energetic art; among other things, it challenges you to pay attention, half-believing it could all fall around his ears at any moment, marvelling that it never quite does".