Overstaying by Ariane Koch, translated by Damion Searls

4/5 stars

What's it about? The narrator lives in her childhood home alone and can’t quite rouse herself to leave the small town where she grew up. She becomes fascinated by a visitor and invites him to stay, and before long the visitor consumes her whole existence. Funny, trippy, and endlessly strange.

How’d I find it? I love this influencer for translated book recs. She knows what’s up.

Who will enjoy this book? Overstaying embraces absurdity and tension in the manner of Samanta Schweblin. In fact, the fluidity of interiors reminds me of Seven Empty Houses.

What stood out? The narrator’s sense of humor makes this bizarre tale more fun than creepy, quite a feat when the visitor with his furry “brushfingers” mutates and evolves the longer he lingers. Overstaying fills inertia with small horrors (how I loved the sentient vacuum cleaners) and completes its sense of claustrophobia with short, choppy chapters. Koch pulls off an immersive mirage of a book.

Which line made me feel something? This tidbit had me laughing out loud: “It’s all the same to me whether or not he’s planning to poison the neighbor children. They’re all right, because they’re small, but then again they’re not that small; now that I think about it, they have chubby thighs.”

Glaciers by Alexis M. Smith

5/5 stars

What's it about? Isabel goes to work at the public library in Portland, nurses an impossible crush, and attends a party. Those are the happenings in this trim, satisfying novel that captures perfectly an ambivalent twentysomething circa 2010.

How’d I find it? The staff picks at Powell’s rarely steer me wrong.

Who will enjoy this book? The library link and worry about climate change in Glaciers make this reader suspect that Jenny Offill was heavily inspired by Smith’s work in writing Weather. Either way, the two books pair nicely. For another read that takes place over one day, try A Simple Man by Christopher Isherwood.

What stood out? Smith nails time to the wall, writing into a moment when rising sea levels and the war in Iraq joined the search for intimacy as prime concerns for young adults. Glaciers presents a tiny time capsule, made all the more potent by Isabel’s nostalgia and need to preserve the past as well as the possible. The novel ends with a circle of partygoers swapping stories; it’s an elegant departure from the focus on the individual and sticks its landing.

Which line made me feel something? This bit of banter between Isabel and her friend Leon: “Who darns socks? Girls nobody tells stories about.”

Sun City by Tove Jansson, translated by Thomas Teal

3/5 stars

What's it about? The residents of the Berkeley Arms in St. Petersburg, Florida squabble, fret, and weather the realities of aging and retirement in this trim, breezy novel.

How’d I find it? This came in the mail as the monthly selection of the NYRB Classics Book Club.

Who will enjoy this book? Sun City tackles the humor and distress of older adulthood à la Helene Tursten (without the murder).

What stood out? The novel shifts between the perspectives of its many characters, lending depth to the daily humdrum of life. I was particularly drawn to the formidable Mrs. Rubinstein, whose sharp tongue and sway over her retirement community make her a delight to accompany, and Linda, an adored employee of the Berkeley Arms whose boyfriend impatiently awaits the next coming of Jesus.

Which line made me feel something? “Afterward, Miss Frey thought she had been lost, but sometimes even then she would secretly indulge a wonder and a daydream that had to do with the beauty of emptiness and extinction.”

A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

1/5 stars

How’d I find it? This anguished cover has been haunting me from bestseller tables for years, but it wasn’t until a friend gave me her copy that I considered reading it. And I’m glad she did, because I have thoughts.

Why not 3 or more stars? Four tidily diverse men meet in college, make mistakes, fall in love, and somehow all achieve incredible success in their respective professions. A Little Life is set in a fantasy world in which people receive everything they ever wanted, including permission to avoid their issues indefinitely and to damage those who support and enable them. The most extreme of these examples is Jude St. Francis (oh, I will get to the names in this book in a moment), whose youth is so brutal that even this cynical reader couldn’t decide whether to feel irritation or pity when Jude gets to sniveling. Jude’s horrific backstory proves not enough for Yanagihara; the story freedives through its last hundred pages to a truly punishing level of bleakness. A Little Life doesn’t earn its hefty page count, weighed down with clunky imagery and sloppy rephrasings that read as if written by early AI. Speaking of AI, the names in this book! Citizen van Straaten? Andy Contractor? Millicent Stein-Hernandez? So bad that I bet you can’t guess which one I made up.

The Suicides by Antonio Di Benedetto, translated by Esther Allen

2/5 stars

How’d I find it? I mention the NYRB Classics Book Club enough for it to be the obvious source.

Why not 3 or more stars? A reporter investigates a story on the nature of suicide, haunted by the realization that he’s approaching the same age at which his father took his own life. Written in 1969, this circular and dark novel proves to be a tough read thanks to the narrator’s constant mistreatment of women and generally obnoxious company. Photographer Marcela offers an interesting foil, and I would have preferred to read a whole book about her.

On the Calculation of Volume I by Solvej Balle, translated by Barbara Haveland

4/5 stars

What's it about? Tara Selter wakes up every morning to November 18th, and nothing she tries ever seems to propel her out of the time trap. A trim, melancholic novel on the mystery of existence.

How’d I find it? I read an excerpt from this novel in Harper’s had to pick up a copy to read the rest.

Who will enjoy this book? This blends the dreaminess of Samantha Harvey’s Orbital, the enigma of Hervé Le Tellier’s The Anomaly, and the domestic focus of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

What stood out? This book is the first in a series of seven, and I appreciated its metaphysical musings in the form of Tara’s daily journal. We enter the story on her 122nd iteration of November 18th and follow as she tries to lure her confounded husband to her aide, develops an obsession with the night sky, and logs how her continued presence diminishes the resources of the day. On the Calculation of Volume is about time in such a way that you feel time while reading it.

Which line made me feel something? “The unthinkable is something we carry with us always. It has already happened: we are improbable, we have emerged from a cloud of unbelievable coincidences.”

The Rest Is Silence by Augusto Monterroso, translated by Aaron Kerner

2/5 stars

How’d I find it? The NYRB Classics Book Club, of course.

Why not 3 or more stars? This takedown of Mexico’s literary elite comes in the form of a collection of ephemera about the self-important (and fictional) critic Eduardo Torres, darling of the town of San Blas. The book’s wry humor (including excerpts from Torres’ vacuous writing) excels, but the gag tires out early.

The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro

4/5 stars

What's it about? In a post-Arthurian England, Axl and Beatrice set out to find their son, relying on traces of memories erased by a mysterious mist that hangs over the land and placates its people. The journey soon becomes a quest illuminated by ogres, a warrior, a strange boy, a knight, and, of course, a dragon. A book-length daydream that lingers.

How’d I find it? I don’t know how this book came to me. A book sale? A yard sale? A box on the street? I do remember reading Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go on the porch of a beach hut in Zanzibar, the ocean roiling, the wind tearing the pages from my fingers, and stars absolutely everywhere.

Who will enjoy this book? Did you appreciate The Northman or Lauren Groff’s The Vaster Wilds? Try this one out.

What stood out? Many questions remain unanswered in The Buried Giant, creating possibilities that sparkle in the imagination. Possibly the point of a book full of tales told and tales lived by. It’s a tool that Ishiguro wields to anchor the reader firmly in this strange and violent time in human history, when death was its own character and uncertainty an expected frame of mind. We get to see the mud on the proverbial skirts, lending depth to an elusive, tone-heavy novel.

Which line made me feel something? “He had felt as one standing in a boat on a wintry river, looking out into dense fog, knowing it would at any moment part to reveal vivid glimpses of the land ahead. And he had been caught in a kind of terror, yet at the same time had felt a curiosity—or something stronger and darker—and he had told himself firmly, ‘Whatever it may be, let me see it, let me see it.’”

The Frog in the Throat by Markus Werner, translated by Michael Hofmann

3/5 stars

What's it about? Dairy farmer Klement shunned his son Franz after an affair cost Franz his family and position as a clergyman, and they remained estranged until Klement’s death. Now Franz is being haunted by his father, who manifests as a literal frog stuck in his throat for three days every month, never letting Franz forget his shame.

How’d I find it? As ever, the inimitable NYRB Classics Book Club.

Who will enjoy this book? During my reading session, I was reminded of the humor and absurdity of Milan Kundera and the themes of Neil Gaiman’s work.

What stood out? Werner inhabits the two voices of this book so completely. Chapters vacillate between the self-flagellating Franz reliving his sins and Klement milking his cows while airing his disappointment with the changing world around him. The Frog in the Throat has more to say about time and being human than most books twice its length, and does so in a uniquely dark way.

Which line made me feel something? “So or so or any old how, we live for moments and everything withers at a dismaying pace, and the fact that my clothes will outlive me only underlines the misery of it all, while the bells chime brightly and the organ is as dignified as the obituary, the worms bestir themselves, I ventilate.”

Free Food for Millionaires by Min Jin Lee

2/5 stars

How’d I find it? I had the pleasure of hearing Min Jin Lee speak at an AWP panel back in 2018 and was inspired to pick up a copy of her work.

Why not 3 or more stars? In Free Food for Millionaires, Lee’s debut novel, Casey Han, a new Princeton graduate with a penchant for luxury goods and no idea what to do with her life, is forced into momentum when she becomes estranged from her parents and her boyfriend on the same night. This coming-of-age novel examines the pressure of becoming and the dynamic between expectation and desire, but doesn’t deliver beyond a well-written story, despite touching on religion, diasporas, late nineties’ culture, life in New York, and consumerism. Oh, and there’s something about millinery.