Perfection by Vincenzo Latronico, translated by Sophie Hughes

4/5 stars

What's it about? Anna and Tom are young expats in Berlin, proud of the life they’ve created until they suddenly…aren’t. A searing commentary on modern, work-from-home culture.

How’d I find it? The team at Solid State Books thought I would like this one, and, as always, they were right.

Who will enjoy this book? Millennial freelancers and account execs, this will hit close to home.

What stood out? Latronico has crafted a novel that captures the past ten years like no other I’ve read. The fixation on ambition, codependence in partnership, the meaningless markers of contentment—all utterly contemporary as Anna and Tom sink into their feeds and gentrify their neighborhood. Who needs dialogue when you’ve got grade A malaise?

Which line made me feel something? While the chapter in which Anna and Tom delve into activism certainly feels the most cringeworthy, this description of screen addiction horrified me: “It was like walking through the world’s most hectic street market on cocaine. It was like channel-hopping an entire wall of TV sets. It was like telepathically tuning into the thoughts of a stadium packed with people. But really it wasn’t like anything else, because it was new.”

Waiting for the Fear by Oguz Atay, translated by Ralph Hubbell

3/5 stars

What's it about? In this eerie collection, the stories of Turkish writer Oguz Atay catch folks in disturbing situations, such as discovering the desiccated body of an ex in the attic or receiving a threat in an alien language.

How’d I find it? I must credit the NYRB Classics Book Club for this find.

Who will enjoy this book? If you like the stories of Samanta Schweblin or Anna Kavan, Waiting for the Fear will be right up your alley.

What stood out? Atay favors an imperious tone that brightens these dark tales. The speakers and protagonists of the stories in Waiting for the Fear react to strangeness in manic and paranoid ways. Take, for example, the advice columnist of “Not Yes Not No” who composes a deranged reply to a lovelorn man lacking in letter writing skills: “How can someone so pitiful feel such self-confidence?”

Which line made me feel something? From the title story: “The moon incident had gotten me thinking that I used to dislike nature, but now I wondered if I’d always sort of liked it. I wondered if at some point, because of the trees, the grass or insects that can’t fly, I’d begun in fact to love it.”

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.”

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.

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 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.”

Bright Unbearable Reality by Anna Badkhen

3/5 stars

What's it about? Badkhen reflects on humanity, origins, and the inequities of our world in this collection that is part travelogue, part reckoning. Bright Unbearable Reality figures into the chorus of responses to the pandemic and its aftermath.

How’d I find it? One always finds something on the sale tables at Powell’s.

Who will enjoy this book? If Zadie Smith’s Intimations resonated with you, Badkhen’s thoughts might, too.

What stood out? Badkhen takes a graceful approach to mass migration, displacement, and injustice, and, while her sumptuous language doesn’t always work, it’s intoxicating to read. She pulls from across the spectrum of human creativity to enrich her subjects, like, for example, when she references the sculptures of Roni Horn in an essay set during a pilgrimage across the Sahara.

Which line made me feel something? From “Dark Matter:” “Why refuse to address head-on the two experiences that pinnacle our humanness, violence and astonishment, why find circuitous ways to describe them; why not behold and marvel at what is before us on its own terms, just as it is; what avarice within us makes us plow right through the miraculous, or past it, without pause, makes us insatiable?”

The Continuous Katherine Mortenhoe by D. G. Compton

3/5 stars

What's it about? In a future where death by disease has been eradicated, Katherine Mortenhoe learns that she has a terminal case of sensory overload. While Katherine tries to reckon with her impending death, the showrunner behind the Human Destiny program secretly captures it all with the help of one special journalist. How real is Katherine’s experience? How do we judge our lives in the context of an ugly world? A novel that asks important questions for readers in 2025.

How’d I find it? When I want to treat myself, this is what I do: I stroll into Powell’s after lunch and scan the new arrivals, then wander through the shelves of my favorite sections (poetry, mid-grade fiction, foreign language, and horror). I find something (on this particular day, The Continuous Katherine Mortenhoe) and sit myself down in the attached café for a cider and reading sesh.

Who will enjoy this book? Fans of the show UnREAL and Black Mirror should pick this one up.

What stood out? Compton did an eerie job of describing a society in which suffering is entertainment. Though written in 1974, the themes of surveillance and privacy feel timely for our present, in which we’re constantly bombarded with content and reality TV shows like The Bachelor are under scrutiny for their producing practices. Compton includes a dash of poignancy with a Citizen Kane “rosebud” moment that nods to the bigger questions of existence. The Continuous Katherine Mortenhoe may be a quieter book than The Hunger Games or Chain-Gang All-Stars, but it has something to say.

Which line made me feel something? “…she’d crawled out of antediluvian mud on the legs of curiosity, and descended from ancient trees in search of something more than survival.”

The Pornographer by John McGahern

2/5 stars

How’d I find it? The illustrious NYRB Classics Book Club strikes again!

Why not 3 or more stars? I recognize that one shouldn’t expect much pep in a book about an unwanted pregnancy and the loss of a beloved aunt, but sheesh. The Pornographer does boast some solid writing, especially when our deplorable narrator reflects macroscopically on the nature of humanity, love, and death. Those moments would add up to five pages I would happily devour; the full effect of 250 pages of misery and cringeworthy characters, however, proves too much to overcome.

Shadows of Carcosa: Tales of Cosmic Horror by Lovecraft, Chambers, Machen, Poe, and Other Masters of the Weird

5/5 stars

What's it about? This collection of top-notch stories explores atmospheric horror and the dread of the unknown. A book of veritable bangers.

How’d I find it? When I managed a bookstore at Busboys & Poets, this book always caught my eye. Now it’s mine!

Who will enjoy this book? The cryptic editor’s note at the end of the book suggests that this read is meant for the Lovecraft fans, but any horror lover would appreciate.

What stood out? Despite the fact that all the stories are written by men whose oeuvres straddle the 19th and 20 centuries, these tales showcase a diversity of style and subject, united in their pervasive creepiness. “The White People” by Arthur Machen and Ambrose Bierce’s “The Damned Thing” were absolute masterpieces. I didn’t quite understand the meaning of “cosmic horror” or why these pieces were lumped together, but fortunately the work stands alone

Which line made me feel something? This terrifying landscape description from “An Inhabitant of Carcosa” by Ambrose Bierce: “Protruded at long intervals above it, stood strangely shaped and somber-colored rocks, which seemed to have an understanding with one another and to exchange looks of uncomfortable significance, as if they had reared their heads to watch the issue of some foreseen event. A few blasted trees here and there appeared as leaders in this malevolent conspiracy of silent expectation.” Shudder.