ARCHIPELAGO

Bakopoulos’ third novel finds an American translator participating in a residency program on a Croatian island.

“I attribute all that summer’s disquiet to an encounter with a man on the ferry, an encounter that was as destabilizing as it was strange.” So begins this novel narrated by an unnamed middle-aged translator who was raised in suburban Detroit but has been living in Greece for several years. The ferry ride is one leg of her journey to “a Croatian island off the Dalmatian coast,” where she is to attend a two-week translators’ residency at an international arts center. While she’s walking around the island, a man she hasn’t seen in years spots her, and as they chat, he repeatedly calls her by the wrong name. The narrator plays along (“I marveled at how natural it felt to be this woman, to answer to this name”), and the two embark on a casual romance. After the residency ends, the narrator rents a studio near the translators’ center and continues her romance with the man; their overnight stay with his wealthy friend carries a hint at drama to come (“This is going to be a very strange weekend, I said, isn’t it”), but it never does. Likewise, toward the book’s midpoint, something odd occurs, after which nothing of corresponding consequence happens. The narrator’s invitingly confiding tone, lovely descriptions of her surroundings, and thoughtful reflections on translation, swimming, aging, borders, and male menace can do only so much to offset the narrative’s lack of story. The “disquiet” promised by the novel’s opener turns out to be nothing more than the everyday surprises and irritants of life, albeit in a dazzling setting. For some readers this may be enough.

More of a travelogue interspersed with story than the other way around.