The adjective "cinematic," when applied to a novel, is usually meant to suggest that the book describes bounces from one action-crammed scene to the next in a manner abrupt enough to delight those who find it difficult to concentrate on one thing for longer than 30 seconds.
So prevalent are films of this sort that one understands why "cinematic" is burdened with connotations that call to mind not so much art as a medical condition: attention-deficit disorder. There does exist, however, a less frenetic style of filmmaking — the work, for example, of Terrence Malick.
"Farewell, Shanghai," a novel by a filmmaker, the Bulgarian Angel Wagenstein, reminds us that novels can be cinematic not only in the juddering speed with which they zip through a world, but also in the precision with which they evoke that world's sensory details.
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