David Mehegan
In Vlady Kociancich’s newly translated Argentine novel, an indecisive Buenos Aires lawyer wanders through Berlin, cinema, erotic fantasy, and a reality that may be entirely of his own making.
A science writer challenges the orthodoxy on sun exposure, arguing for its benefits while downplaying its risks.
However well or ill this smoldering novel works, it is undeniably compelling, with an ending neither tragic nor happy.
I cannot recall reading a more poignant and persuasive description of the inexorable descent of Alzheimer’s disease, certainly not from inside the sufferer’s mind.
Disrepair is the leitmotif. The atmosphere throughout is dark and gray, tinting a sadness that to the narrator seems to be inexpressible.
Mario Vargas Llosa’s final novel is a sweet, light story about art and idealism—and its ever-present opposite, cynicism.
This tragic, absorbing, and moving quasi-novel is best characterized as a “tour de force”.
This is the story of powerless little people caught up in a confusing maelstrom, at the receiving end of senseless violence.
This is a well-crafted story about the gulf between well-off Americans who can safely ignore power politics in their daily lives (and how many of us are doing just that!) and those at the edge of being oppressed or crushed by them.
Hearing the novel’s poignant voices, we can’t help but think that in many respects the plight of poor young men in the ’hood is everywhere alike.
Recent Comments