Buarque has created a warm, engaging, memorable first-person voice in his credulous and well-meaning Costa, the whole...
A seamless, delectable narrative about a ghostwriter who immerses himself in the Hungarian language, by the daring Brazilian pop lyricist and novelist (Turbulence, 1991, etc.) who’s too little known here.
Jose Costa is the unappreciated genius behind the writing services of Cunha & Costa Cultural Agency, overlooking Rio’s Copacabana Beach: he writes speeches for presidents and heads of unions and, eventually, an autobiography for a German executive, Kaspar Krabbe, that becomes a literary bestseller. But writing another’s life begins to feel like “having an affair with somebody else’s wife,” and, though he puffs up with vanity, Costa isn’t really sure who he is. After an emotionally wrenching meeting at the convention of anonymous writers’ in Melbourne, Costa gets rerouted for the night in Budapest, where he becomes intrigued by the jealously guarded way that Hungarian is spoken by the locals—and by the sweetly bitter pumpkin rolls he devours at the hotel, a food that subsequently serves as a kind of madeleine to his memory. Undervalued by his agency’s boss, and by his lovely but spoiled TV newsreader wife, who thinks he’s a hack, Costa returns to the beguiling Budapest and meets up with the woman who will serve as his muse and teacher, Kriska: “One does not learn the Magyar language from books,” she informs him point-blank, then initiates him relentlessly, sensuously, into total immersion in her language. Back and forth between Rio and Budapest goes Costa—now Zsoze Kosta—his narrative fluid as he humorously mocks, then gravely assumes his new tongue, all in preparation for his abandoning Portuguese altogether and becoming an established imposter in his adopted language.
Buarque has created a warm, engaging, memorable first-person voice in his credulous and well-meaning Costa, the whole translated here gorgeously and sinuously: sentences at random can be picked and savored for delicacy and rhythm.Pub Date: Oct. 1, 2004
ISBN: 0-8021-1782-1
Page Count: 192
Publisher: Grove
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 2004
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
A deeply satisfying novel, both sensuously vivid and remarkably poignant.
Norwegian novelist Jacobsen folds a quietly powerful coming-of-age story into a rendition of daily life on one of Norway’s rural islands a hundred years ago in a novel that was shortlisted for the 2017 Man Booker International Prize.
Ingrid Barrøy, her father, Hans, mother, Maria, grandfather Martin, and slightly addled aunt Barbro are the owners and sole inhabitants of Barrøy Island, one of numerous small family-owned islands in an area of Norway barely touched by the outside world. The novel follows Ingrid from age 3 through a carefree early childhood of endless small chores, simple pleasures, and unquestioned familial love into her more ambivalent adolescence attending school off the island and becoming aware of the outside world, then finally into young womanhood when she must make difficult choices. Readers will share Ingrid’s adoration of her father, whose sense of responsibility conflicts with his romantic nature. He adores Maria, despite what he calls her “la-di-da” ways, and is devoted to Ingrid. Twice he finds work on the mainland for his sister, Barbro, but, afraid she’ll be unhappy, he brings her home both times. Rooted to the land where he farms and tied to the sea where he fishes, Hans struggles to maintain his family’s hardscrabble existence on an island where every repair is a struggle against the elements. But his efforts are Sisyphean. Life as a Barrøy on Barrøy remains precarious. Changes do occur in men’s and women’s roles, reflected in part by who gets a literal chair to sit on at meals, while world crises—a war, Sweden’s financial troubles—have unexpected impact. Yet the drama here occurs in small increments, season by season, following nature’s rhythm through deaths and births, moments of joy and deep sorrow. The translator’s decision to use roughly translated phrases in conversation—i.e., “Tha’s goen’ nohvar” for "You’re going nowhere")—slows the reading down at first but ends up drawing readers more deeply into the world of Barrøy and its prickly, intensely alive inhabitants.
A deeply satisfying novel, both sensuously vivid and remarkably poignant.Pub Date: April 7, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-77196-319-0
Page Count: 272
Publisher: Biblioasis
Review Posted Online: Jan. 12, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2020
Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.
A lonely postman learns that he’s about to die—and reflects on life as he bargains with a Hawaiian-shirt–wearing devil.
The 30-year-old first-person narrator in filmmaker/novelist Kawamura’s slim novel is, by his own admission, “boring…a monotone guy,” so unimaginative that, when he learns he has a brain tumor, the bucket list he writes down is dull enough that “even the cat looked disgusted with me.” Luckily—or maybe not—a friendly devil, dubbed Aloha, pops onto the scene, and he’s willing to make a deal: an extra day of life in exchange for being allowed to remove something pleasant from the world. The first thing excised is phones, which goes well enough. (The narrator is pleasantly surprised to find that “people seemed to have no problem finding something to fill up their free time.”) But deals with the devil do have a way of getting complicated. This leads to shallow musings (“Sometimes, when you rewatch a film after not having seen it for a long time, it makes a totally different impression on you than it did the first time you saw it. Of course, the movie hasn’t changed; it’s you who’s changed") written in prose so awkward, it’s possibly satire (“Tears dripped down onto the letter like warm, salty drops of rain”). Even the postman’s beloved cat, who gains the power of speech, ends up being prim and annoying. The narrator ponders feelings about a lost love, his late mother, and his estranged father in a way that some readers might find moving at times. But for many, whatever made this book a bestseller in Japan is going to be lost in translation.
Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.Pub Date: March 12, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-250-29405-0
Page Count: 176
Publisher: Flatiron Books
Review Posted Online: Feb. 16, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2019
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