Reviews
In This Fruitful Darkness: Signs Preceding the End of the World
‘Yuri Herrera’s novella Señales que precederán al fin del mundo is a special case: a work for which translation is a logical extension of its rationale. What I mean is this: when a work is so concerned with arduous journeys, borders, transculturalism and the underworld, reading a version of that work rebirthed in a new form after it has undergone its own transformation is quite fitting.’ Elizabeth Bryer on Signs Preceding the End of the World.
In Suspicion of Beauty: On Eka Kurniawan
The English translations of Eka Kurniawan’s novels have been hailed for their beauty and situated within a global frame of reference – but when they were first published, critics were fascinated by Eka’s deviance and his willingness to flout contemporary Indonesian literary norms.
A Gigantically Obvious Wrong Thing: R&R by Mark Dapin
‘It’s my argument that, in dramatising and deprecating acts of direct physical violence – however menacing their perpetrators and however innocent their victims – a work such as this war novel and, perhaps by extension, many others associated with other genres in which grisly violence is central, such as horror and crime fiction, suppress the much more prevalent, far more significant instances of symbolic and structural violence that underpin and regulate our supposedly non-warring, peacetime societies.’
Erosion of the Will: A Strangeness in My Mind by Orhan Pamuk
‘The critical cliché about Pamuk is that he is preoccupied with the cultural tensions between East and West. The cliché is true, up to a point. In subtle and complex ways, Pamuk’s novels depict a Turkish society caught between the conflicting imperatives of tradition and modernity. A Strangeness in My Mind weaves an examination of the social and political forces that have shaped modern Turkey around a sympathetic portrayal of a decisively ordinary central character, a humble street vendor named Mevlut Karataş.’ James Ley on Orhan Pamuk’s latest novel
The Power of Roses: Waiting for the Electricity by Christina Nichol
‘Platters of eggplant rolled in garlic and nuts sit on dishes of roasted wild turkey; on top of them are plates of goose pâté, sweet carrots, roasted red peppers, stuffed grape leaves, and nettles leaves boiled with ground walnuts. “In our country,” explains the narrator, “the buildings are always falling down [so] we pile plates on top of each other, like a last hope”. Further piles include potato and beef stew, chicken and tomato soup, mutton pilaf, beet salad layered with cream, fried forest mushrooms, crêpes flavoured with pepper, a trout slit open for the eggs, and knucklebone soup.’
She Thinks She Is The Boss: The Story of the Lost Child
It’s worth wondering why readers respond to Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan novels the way they do. Which is to say that these four books haven’t just been read, enjoyed and praised: they have been devoured, adored, rhapsodised about, eagerly awaited – and now there will be no more of them, mourned. Well might we talk of ‘Ferrante Fever’, for there has hardened a core set of symptoms: neglect of responsibilities, reduced productivity, sleep disturbance, difficulty rising from a seated position. The condition is more common in women than in men but, curiously (well, at least for those people who believe that Jennifer Weiner’s ‘goldfinching’ theory holds merit), as common in critics as in readers.
Mushburgers: Barbarian Days: A Surfing Life by William Finnegan
‘The wonder of Barbarian Days is to provide us with a literary experience that is not a stand in for other experiences, that is not an allegory of effort and victory and disappointment and loss that memoir culture has conditioned us to expect.’