By DAVID MCGLYNN
Review by NICOLE SCHRAG
David McGlynn’s new novel-in-stories unfolds on and around the campus of the fictional Buchanan College in Hanover, Wisconsin, a school not unlike McGlynn’s home institution of Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisconsin. Liberal Arts follows the lives of professors and students, alumni, community members, and friends and relations of all of the above over the course of four academic years.
By BRAIS LAMELA
Review by ZARA KARSCHAY
It is 1939. Spain is emerging bruised and broken from its Civil War as a plaything for Franco’s crushing rule. People are hungry. The country’s agriculture and rail networks are in shambles. Citizens go where the work is, leaving expanses of rural land unpopulated. Intending to reform Spain’s agrarian economy and redistribute the population across the country, the regime’s “New Colonization” policy (la nueva politica de colonización) draws up plans for several hundred new settlements to be built across the whole of Spain. Some move voluntarily, others are forced to do so, because their own villages are submerged to create water reservoirs. Over three decades, more than fifty-thousand people are displaced.
By QIAN ZHONGSHU
Review by BEN TAMBURRI
Qian Zhongshu’s Fortress Besieged takes its namesake and epigraph from a French proverb: “Marriage is like a fortress besieged: those who are outside want to get in, and those who are inside want to get out.” The proverb foretells much about this acerbic novel, as its protagonist, Fang Hung-Chien, stumbles into and out of the lives of various women in Shanghai after returning from his years studying abroad in Europe.
By WYATT TOWNLEY
Review by AIDAN COOPER
Since it first found me in The Common’s Issue 28, I’ve been hypnotized by Wyatt Townley’s “Wedding Vows.” “Falling is an art,” she says, “we have fallen all the way here.” The poem delights in the homology of movement among everything twirling in the world. And now, in Townley’s latest book of poems, Making the Turn, “Wedding Vows” takes on a whole new twirling world to enjoy. In her fifth poetry collection, falling is an art that constantly recurs, redirects, and finds in the force of moving some give in gravity itself. You can fall forever and in any direction; every instance of being is always in flux. Townley writes, “as word by word you are led / to where you are now standing.”
By SCOTT LAMBRIDIS
Review by BRITTA STROMEYER
“If you want the truth, you must ask someone else. Someone like me, who’s been here, on this island, all along,” writes author Scott Lambridis in his dizzying and darkly humorous debut novel, St. Ulphia’s Dead. Addictive and deceptive, the novel demands the reader’s full attention—as nothing is quite what it seems.
By MARLEN HAUSHOFER
Review by BRIANNA BEEHLER
When I was a child, I was afraid to go upstairs by myself at my grandparents’ house. At the top of the stairs was a print of Pablo Picasso’s 1937 painting, Weeping Woman’s Head with Handkerchief III, and the sight of the woman’s tears found its way into my dreams at night. I didn’t know the painting’s context and the casual violence against civilians in Guernica that it referred to, but the image of the woman’s suffering would give me a sense of vertigo, and in the night I imagined climbing the stairs only to lose my balance on sight of the woman’s tight grip and upturned face.
By EGANA DJABBAROVA
Review by BRITTA STROMEYER
Every now and then, a book is spawned that renders you speechless, demanding recognition for its searing vulnerability and astute cultural criticism. Egana Djabbarova’s My Dreadful Body, translated by Lisa C. Hayden, stands as one of those. The novel traces the lacerations of its largely unnamed narrator’s pain and grief bleeding into the suffering of an entire people by mapping a lineage of women—mothers, grandmothers, and aunts—whose identities are confined to roles as wives and caretakers, illustrating how societal expectations shape their lives and the lives of generations that follow.
Set in post-Soviet Yekaterinburg, Russia, the story follows the narrator’s upbringing within an Azerbaijani family, charting the cultural and societal challenges of life in the diaspora: “I don’t remember who it was and I don’t remember how long we ran; the only thing I remember is how much my shoulders ached from the heavy backpack, how the backpack hit my lower back, how I lost my breath, and how terrified I was. That was the first time I felt true primal danger and the proximity of death with my own skin. That was when I realized that being a stranger means being hated, being a vessel for rage.” The narrator’s toil with dystonia, a neurological movement disorder, serves as a visceral metaphor for this history; the illness not only robs her of speech and physical autonomy but mirrors the cultural constraints that have long stifled the women in her family. At its core, My Dreadful Body offers a piercing feminist critique of the systemic silencing and erasure of women’s agency, particularly within the context of the Azerbaijani diaspora.
Review by SAM SPRATFORD
Book by EMMELIE PROPHÈTE
Translated from the French by AIDAN ROONEY
Uncle Frédo lies in the dark, water dripping through the sheet-metal roof. His American Dream crushed by the reality of existence as a non-white, non-citizen in the U.S., he returns to Haiti for the remainder of his life. He rarely speaks and is nearly always drunk. He spends his days in a dreamless twilight zone between sleep and wakefulness.
Cécé, his 20 year old niece and the inheritor of his psychic burden, is our real protagonist.
Cécé was born into a slum outside Port-au-Prince, a place fractured by violence. It is the recent past, in the heady early days of the digital age. Facebook was still the social platform of choice and capitalism had not yet made an industry of influencer marketing. Abandoned by a kleptocratic state, the Cité of Divine Power and its counterpart, Bethlehem, have seen gangs step in to provide structure for residents by claiming a monopoly on violence. Unlike the Hobbesian Leviathan, there is no law underwriting the circumstances under which violence can be applied. It is a lawless place—but not without an order of its own.
By JULIANA LEITE
Translated by ZOË PERRY
Reviewed by JAY BOSS RUBIN
In the opening chapter of this subtle epic, the centenarian narrator Natalia confides: “At this point in life, I’d say that going on forever or for too long is a bad decision, a very bad one; what’s nice is to exist and then stop existing, to exist for a while and then be able to change the subject.” In other words, if the transition between life and death is an abrupt one, then so be it. “[L]et’s be done with it,” she says, “though it would be nice to have the time to spritz on some perfume beforehand.”
When I first encountered this sentiment in Juliana Leite’s Exemplary Humans, translated from the Portuguese by Zoë Perry, I took it be a bit of a bluff. It reminded me of a bumper sticker I saw a couple of years ago in Portland, Oregon, that read: “I ♥ AGING & DYING” (which I interpreted as an existentialist rejoinder to proclamations of commercial allegiance—“I ♥ Mr Plywood” and so on—so common in my hometown). But by the end of Leite’s novel, which takes place primarily in Rio de Janeiro and Petrópolis, Brazil, and spans that country’s lengthy dictatorship, I was convinced that Natalia’s breezy acceptance of her own mortality was absolutely serious. It is not only possible, but strongly advised to love aging and dying. It isn’t easy, though. To transcend dread, and transform it into something more palatable, a unique kind of emotional intelligence is required, and so is a talent for adjusting one’s perspectives. Natalia is the novel’s exemplar of both these qualities.
By TOM ROSS
Review by TERESE SVOBODA
My copy of Miss Abracadabra is appallingly dogeared in my attempt to mark its most exquisite parts. Although amazed to discover that this is Tom Ross’ debut novel, I am not surprised that the venerable Deep Vellum published it. Miss Abracadabra is only the second novel they’ve taken on in twelve years that’s not a translation. What magic did Miss Abracadabra conjure to convince them?
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