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.

The Moustache by Emmanuel Carrère

4/5 stars

What's it about? The Parisian of this smart novel shaves off his mustache, the catalyst for a delirious descent into madness when no one seems to notice or, in fact, recall his ever having facial hair in the first place. Absurd, funny, and with an ending you won’t soon forget.

How’d I find it? My favorite Bookstagrammer, of course. I do enjoy a Carrère novel.

Who will enjoy this book? I’d liken this book to the experience of reading Machines in the Head by Anna Kavan or the short story “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman.

What stood out? The narrator’s slippery grip on reality and his shifts between trust and suspicion make for an entertaining read, a feat considering the relative lack of plot. Carrére is deft at keeping the narrator and the reader guessing, with sprinkles of psychological thriller and horror that maintain momentum. I didn’t love how women were written in this book; Agnès, the narrator’s wife, gets a superficial treatment despite her importance. The narrator is a scoundrel though.

Which line made me feel something? I positively adored the brilliant back cover copy, which included (translation my own): “The story, in any case, inevitably ends terribly and, from impossible explanations to irrational escapes, leaves you no way out. Save one, which is revealed in the last pages and not advised when beginning a book. Consider yourself warned.”

The Body in Question by Jill Ciment

5/5 stars

What's it about? C-2 gets involved with F-17, a fellow juror on a high-profile murder trial in which an adopted teen is accused of killing her baby brother. Even this brief escape from caregiving doesn’t relieve C-2 of her life at home with her aging husband. A sharp little novel with heart.

How’d I find it? I found this at Powell’s, and the bookseller who checked me out fussed over this writer. I now understand why.

Who will enjoy this book? This had the tone of the fantastic 2002 film Unfaithful.

What stood out? Ciment takes us into the sexuality and morality of adult womanhood. It’s raw, genuine, and a thrill to read. The wrench thrown into the works by the health of C-2’s husband, a much older man who depends on her, provides a compelling contrast to the isolation of jury duty and C-2’s affair.

Which line made me feel something? “Grief doesn’t feel as if a rug has been pulled out from under her. There is no rug. There is no floor on which to lay a rug. There is no ground on which to build a floor to lay a rug.”