I think Kenyan literature is one of those traditions people might approach with their shoulders already slightly tensed. You can almost hear the imaginary assignment sheet rustling in the background: colonialism, language, Mau Mau, independence, betrayal, disillusionment, discuss. And to be sure, all of that matters. A lot. You cannot seriously talk about Kenyan literature…
There is a particular kind of reader who sees a thousand-page postmodern novel and thinks, Excellent. I was hoping to lose contact with ordinary time for a while. The rest of us may wonder whether the book comes with a bookmark, a glossary, and maybe a physical therapist. Postmodern fiction has a reputation, and to…
Thomas Pynchon has one of those literary reputations that can feel intimidating to the point of discouraging readers away rather than encouraging them in. The paranoia. The entropy. The conspiracy webs. The weird names. The historical digressions. The songs (my god, the songs!). The acronyms. The sense that somewhere around page 240 a light bulb,…
It goes without saying that any guide to Icelandic literature has to tip its hat to the sagas. They are the deep foundation: hard-faced, funny in a dry and slightly alarming way, full of feuds, law, revenge, family pride, and people making decisions that are clearly terrible even before anyone picks up an axe. They…
You do not need a philosophy degree to feel the existential force of Russian literature. Honestly, it may help if you don’t start with the philosophy at all. Start with a clerk who just wants a decent overcoat. Start with a clever young man who sees through everyone and has no idea what to do…
Gabriel García Márquez is one of those writers people think they know because they know the tag on the museum wall. Magical realism. Yellow butterflies. Impossible ascensions. Macondo. A family tree that looks like it should be sold with a magnifying glass, a priest, and maybe a stiff drink. The label helps and it’s not…
Tokyo is very easy to simplify into a collage of neon and glowing convenience stores. Someone in a long coat having a quiet existential crisis near a vending machine. A jazz bar, a side street, a missed connection, a city that somehow feels crowded and lonely at the exact same time. I like that version…
Ann Patchett is one of those writers who gets praised in ways that are accurate and slightly misleading at the same time. Warm. Wise. Humane. Generous. Comforting. All true, but not quite accurate overall. Those words can make her sound softer than she really is, as if her novels are mainly tasteful little sanctuaries for…
Obsession rarely announces itself like a villain walking into a room. Most of the time, it starts with something ordinary. A person wants someone back. Wants an answer. Wants revenge. Wants to be pure. Wants to know what really happened. Wants to return to some earlier, better version of life that probably never existed in…
Patricia Highsmith gets called a crime writer, a suspense writer, a psychological thriller writer. None of those labels are wrong exactly, they’re just too neat for what she actually does. At her best, Highsmith is not mainly interested in puzzles, reveals, or the clean machinery of “what happens next.” She is much better at something…