LÁZÁR

A Hungarian family reckons with history and their own demons.

When Lajos von Lázár is born at the turn of the 20th century, his father, Sándor, a Hungarian baron, is “slightly unsettled”: The baby is translucent, his organs visible, “blond, blue-eyed, and jellyfish-skinned.” Sándor, who suspects, correctly, the baby is not his biological child, comes from a family beset with problems; their manor abuts a forest that “had swallowed his father, killed his mother, and driven his brother mad.” He is a strict, unsmiling father to Lajos and his sister, Ilona, and a cold partner to his wife, Mária, a troubled woman who cuts her skin daily to remind herself she is still alive. Lajos and Ilona spend their childhood in the manor, occasionally encountering mysterious creatures in the seemingly haunted forest, finding happiness only when Sándor is out of town. Biedermann’s novel follows the Lázár family through the next several decades, as the First and Second World Wars ravage central Europe: Mária dies by suicide, which exacerbates the drinking problem that eventually leads to Sándor’s death. Lajos inherits his father’s estate and starts a family of his own, but his life is marked by a cowardice he hates in himself, especially when he fails to stand up to the Nazis who have occupied Hungary. Lajos’ skin isn’t the only magical-realist touch Biedermann includes; many come and go along the way, but it’s not clear what the effect is supposed to be—they seem to be quirks for quirks’ sake. He introduces characters who disappear for long stretches, and the novel features time jumps that jar and disorient. His prose, in Bulloch’s translation, has some shining moments, but the novel as a whole never really comes together. At 21, Biedermann is an exceptionally young writer, and it shows, but he does display a talent that, though unformed, evinces promise.

An ambitious epic that doesn’t quite work.