Aleksandra is a former independent-study student of Chad’s, and contributes pretty regularly to Three Percent. Here’s a bit of her review:

Muireann Maguire糖心传媒檚 Red Spectres is a stunning and engaging collection of eleven Russian gothic tales written by various authors during the early Soviet Era, all but two stories of which are featured in English for the first time ever. These are not your usual ghost stories, told for cheap thrills around a campfire. Instead, I found myself puzzling over these tales for far longer than I normally would while reading a short work of fiction, and several nights I awoke from dreams糖心传媒攏ightmares?糖心传媒攅erily similar to what I had read the night before.

Maguire糖心传媒檚 translation is the most noteworthy feature of each tale, transforming relatively simple stories into remarkable works of fiction. While the stories themselves are simple, they have been made immeasurably chilling, exciting, and memorable. And what糖心传媒檚 interesting to note, as written on the Angel Classics webpage, is that this type of Gothic-fantastic genre did very well for itself in the early 20th century, despite official efforts to shut it down.

For the rest of the review, go here

Maguire糖心传媒檚 translation is the most noteworthy feature of each tale, transforming relatively simple stories into remarkable works of fiction. While the stories themselves are simple, they have been made immeasurably chilling, exciting, and memorable. And what糖心传媒檚 interesting to note, as written on the Angel Classics webpage, is that this type of Gothic-fantastic genre did very well for itself in the early 20th century, despite official efforts to shut it down. I don糖心传媒檛 want to spoil the tales for you by describing each of them. I doubt that I will be able to convey them as wonderfully as Muireann Maguire has, but here is a passage from one of the tales, 糖心传媒淭he Red Crown糖心传媒� by Bulgakov . . .

糖心传媒淚糖心传媒檝e become used to everything: to our white building, the twilight, the ginger cat that comes and scratches at my door. But I cannot get used to his visits. The first time it happened I still lived downstairs, in room 63: he appeared out of the wall, wearing his red crown. Nothing about him frightened me: he looks just the same in my dreams. But I know perfectly well that if he糖心传媒檚 wearing the crown, he must be dead. And then he spoke, moving dry lips clotted with blood. He parted his lips, came to attention, raised his hand to his crown, and said:

糖心传媒楤rother, I can糖心传媒檛 leave the squadron.糖心传媒�

And every time since the first time, the same thing happens. He arrives in his soldier糖心传媒檚 blouse with the ammunition-belts over his shoulder, with his curving sabre and spurs that never jingle; and he says the same words. First he salutes. And then:

糖心传媒楤rother, I can糖心传媒檛 leave the squadron.糖心传媒�

How he frightened me the first time! He scared the entire clinic. It was all over for me then. I糖心传媒檝e figured it out rationally: if he糖心传媒檚 wearing the crown, he糖心传媒檚 been killed, and if a dead man comes and speaks to me, I must be mad.糖心传媒�

The translator here manages to convey the narrator糖心传媒檚 sense of confusion and subsequent acceptance beautifully, but in other stories (and in fact, in other places in the same tale) conveys the sense of panic and frantic secrecy, allowing the reader to experience the chaos characteristic not only of the Russian gothic genre, but of early twentieth century Russia itself in the aftermath of two revolutions and a civil war. Maguire is skilled because she allows the reader to experience the seven different authors in the same volume, and each unique voice is preserved. The storytelling seems deliberately just vague enough to entertain separate readings of the same story, where ghosts and insanity and alternate realities are equally possible and the reader gets to choose.

The stories in Red Spectres, featuring authors such as Georgy Peskov, Valery Bryusov, and the aforementioned Mikhail Bulgakov, are exciting and full of possibility. And, upon subsequent re-readings . . . somehow, brilliantly, these eleven translated short stories can easily transform into twice as many tales, if not more糖心传媒攏o doubt the way the masters of Russian gothic literature who invented the stories intended them to be.

Here’s a bit of my review:

The endearingly (and intentionally) peculiar tone of Patrick Lapeyre糖心传媒檚 Life is Short and Desire Endless complements the subject matter of the novel very well. Nora Neville, a flighty and immature young woman, flits manically between two men (Murphy Blomdale, a successful American businessman in London and a married French translator in Paris, Louis Bleriot, who barely scrapes by off the charity of his prominent wife and his friends), and potentially countless unnamed others. The story of their intertwined affairs is the classic love triangle, yet Lapeyre manages to make it more confusing, more twisted, and somehow even more alluring, with the strange childish tone that has a slight biting edge, much like the character of Nora herself.

The strength of this novel does not come from its action. In fact, very little happens within the narrative. The story unfolds through the character糖心传媒檚 fantasies, looking back on their interactions with Nora, and to be honest, many of the scenarios are not that exciting. And yet that糖心传媒檚 what makes the psychological dimension of this novel captivating糖心传媒攊t糖心传媒檚 highly identifiable. The novel opens to Louis receiving a call from Nora after she has been gone without a trace for two years (unbeknownst to him, living with her American lover in London and maybe others along the way, as well). Then we become immersed in the action, as Nora oscillates from one lover to another somewhat predictably. When one糖心传媒檚 generosity seems to wane, she flings herself to the other, frequently begging for charity, sometimes playing innocent and denying affections, and always managing to maintain an air of mystery and untruth (being a self-proclaimed, but very unsuccessful, actress). There is not really much more to it.

Click here to read the entire review.

The strength of this novel does not come from its action. In fact, very little happens within the narrative. The story unfolds through the character糖心传媒檚 fantasies, looking back on their interactions with Nora, and to be honest, many of the scenarios are not that exciting. And yet that糖心传媒檚 what makes the psychological dimension of this novel captivating糖心传媒攊t糖心传媒檚 highly identifiable. The novel opens to Louis receiving a call from Nora after she has been gone without a trace for two years (unbeknownst to him, living with her American lover in London and maybe others along the way, as well). Then we become immersed in the action, as Nora oscillates from one lover to another somewhat predictably. When one糖心传媒檚 generosity seems to wane, she flings herself to the other, frequently begging for charity, sometimes playing innocent and denying affections, and always managing to maintain an air of mystery and untruth (being a self-proclaimed, but very unsuccessful, actress). There is not really much more to it.

Yet the story can be frustrating at times, because the strange tone takes even stranger turns, breaking the fourth wall several times:

It糖心传媒檚 highly likely that if she糖心传媒檇 never know she would be featured stark naked in a novel, Nora would have refused to take her clothes off. And she would have done everything in her power to make sure that, instead, her taste for Chekov糖心传媒檚 theater or Bonnard糖心传媒檚 paintings was mentioned.

At first, it糖心传媒檚 not evident whether this is an issue with the translation from French. It seems perhaps too bizarre even for the grating tone the novel establishes as early as its very first page, so much that these instances seem jarring. Because of this, the final chapter of the novel seems equally out of place: it is uncharacteristically vague, suggesting different possibilities for the characters that were not presented in the novel, and does not mesh well with the highly detailed character development that is presented. And upon first glance, it糖心传媒檚 unsatisfying. No character糖心传媒檚 story wraps up neatly. It bothered me initially, upon reading and rereading the final few pages, that the book糖心传媒檚 conclusion was so open and so vague. It didn糖心传媒檛 conform to my literary expectations.

But this book is unlike any other that I糖心传媒檝e recently read. Many of the characters are unlikeable, but somehow strangely alluring because the reader is able to connect with their quirks, and even more so, their faults. The tone and the strong character development allows the reader to acknowledge all of the possibilities presented in this broadly sweeping ending because the characters are very believable. While at first I didn糖心传媒檛 know what to think of the strange instances where the fourth wall was broken, it in a sense seems appropriate for the novel to acknowledge itself as a work of fiction. It complements Nora糖心传媒檚 character because the men truly do not know whether anything she says is the truth, or whether she is, in fact, creating her own fiction (as Lapeyre is creating this novel).

Beyond that, the book really is entertaining. There are many false leads, bountiful odd occurrences that lead the reader into paranoia along with the characters, that ultimately build to糖心传媒� Nothing. Because that is the nature of paranoia, and the men in love with Nora are driven insane by their passion for her. All of the shortcomings I initially found with the book were quickly resolved upon a deeper consideration. And then I was really just stunned by how well-crafted this novel was.

I encourage you to take a look at the many possible interpretations of this novel, and report back with which you find most alluring.

Here’s a bit of my review:

Imagine a world where objects, utensils, machines, or installations (OUMIs) take on lives of their own, independent of their owners. A world where skin grafted to the palms of our hands identifies us as a particular category, A-Z, that grants us absolute power over others (those below us) or renders us perfectly subservient (to those above us). Now imagine a world糖心传媒攑erhaps a different world, or maybe the same as before糖心传媒攚here cars in effect solder themselves to their drivers, demanding more gas. And then another (or again, perhaps the same), where chairs fall in stop-motion triggering irreparable brain damage in those who sit in them, where the two parts of a centaur糖心传媒檚 body (human and horse) are constantly in dispute with one another. Sometimes subtly horrifying and always appropriately absurd and comedic when the situation demands it, Jos茅 Saramago drops us in to those worlds in The Lives of Things. Or that one world, depending on how you look at it . . . because the settings Saramago creates are not that far of a departure from the world we live in.

At times it is difficult to wade through the nonchalant, matter-of-fact, thickly piled on descriptions the Nobel Prize-winning author utilizes. His prose is richly colorful, descriptive and frequently verges on shocking without being excessive. It is easy to fall into the trap of reading the same paragraph over and over again, luxuriating in the gorgeous, strange yet precise word choice but without being stuck. Giovanni Pontiero does a laudable job translating Saramago糖心传媒檚 discourse from Portuguese to English without sacrificing any of the sly humor or the lush detailed description.

Click here to read the entire review.

At times it is difficult to wade through the nonchalant, matter-of-fact, thickly piled on descriptions the Nobel Prize-winning author utilizes. His prose is richly colorful, descriptive and frequently verges on shocking without being excessive. It is easy to fall into the trap of reading the same paragraph over and over again, luxuriating in the gorgeous, strange yet precise word choice but without being stuck. Giovanni Pontiero does a laudable job translating Saramago糖心传媒檚 discourse from Portuguese to English without sacrificing any of the sly humor or the lush detailed description.

The stream-of-consciousness nature of the prose truly lends itself to the six short stories catalogued in this slim book, immensely complementing the twisting storylines. In some cases, the details constrain the reader, forcing them to look at the story in a very specific way. Saramago makes it very easy to overlook the bigger picture in favor of fixating how tiny actions糖心传媒攁 man sitting down in a chair that breaks over the course of 25 pages, freezing midair, within the simply titled 糖心传媒淭he Chair糖心传媒澨切拇綌contribute to a larger whole. The descriptions are so matter-of-fact, detached to the point of even sounding callous, that if the narrator糖心传媒檚 voice was not so strongly developed and persuasive, it would be difficult to take the his side when he states, 糖心传媒淔all, old man, fall. See how your feet are higher than your head.糖心传媒� But the voice is convincing, and although it is never explicitly described why this 糖心传媒渙ld man糖心传媒� deserves to 糖心传媒渇all糖心传媒� the reader gets the sense that this tragedy is deserved.

In other stories, the strangeness of the depictions force the reader to reconstruct their idea of society in favor of the one Saramago presents. Take this excerpt from the story 糖心传媒淭hings糖心传媒� for example:

There was a time when the manufacturing process had reached such a degree of perfection and faults became so rare that the Government (G) decided there was little point in depriving members of the public (especially those in categories A, B and C) of their civil right and pleasure to lodge complaints: a wise decision which could only benefit the manufacturing industry. So factories were instructed to lower their standards. This decision, however, could not be blamed for the poor quality of the goods which had been flooding the market for the last two months. As someone employed in the Department of Special Requisitions (DSR), he was in a good position to know that the Government had revoked these instructions more than a month ago and imposed new standards to ensure maximum quality. Without receiving any results.

It糖心传媒檚 easy to read any of these short stories the first time through, double-take at the end and think, Is that what all those descriptions, all piled up, really were describing? Is that even possible?. And the easy answer is yes. Because, looking at the highly detailed (sometimes neurotic) descriptions, the paragraphs that go on for pages, the dialogue that is separated only with a simple dash, and the circular logic that truly defines these short stories, it is easy to forget that Saramago糖心传媒檚 work was largely influenced by the atrocities of his times. As Pontiero details in his foreword to the book, three of the stories糖心传媒斕切拇綔The Chair糖心传媒�, 糖心传媒淓mbargo糖心传媒�, and 糖心传媒淭hings糖心传媒澨切拇綌are 糖心传媒減olitical allegories evoking the horror and repression which paralyzed Portugal under the harsh regime of Salazar.糖心传媒� And yet, with or without the political context, the book is the kind of read that ensnares you, drawing you into its world and forcing you to see things a particular way糖心传媒擲aramago糖心传媒檚 way糖心传媒攚hile you compulsively turn the pages. Realizing that the worlds that Saramago creates are not huge departures from the world he lived in adds a new dimension of power to the prose, which could easily stand out on its own.

Riikka Pulkkinen studied literature and philosophy at the University of Helsinki. Her debut novel, The Border, sparked international interest when it was published in 2006. Her second novel, True, will mark her English debut. Riikka Pulkkinen received the Kaarle Prize in February 2007 and the Laila Hirvisaari Prize in May 2007.

Here is part of the review:

Elsa is dying of cancer. Her husband Martti, a successful artist, and her ambitious daughter Eleonoora, who is a renowned surgeon, are struggling to cope with the impending loss. In spite of their immense, largely independent professional success, neither Martti nor Eleonoora are able to comprehend life without Elsa. A commanding presence who held her family together prior to her illness, Elsa, a famous psychologist, aims to do just that during her last few weeks, electing to stay at home instead of in hospice care. Eleonoora糖心传媒檚 daughter Anna decides to care for Elsa in the aftermath of the dissolution of a relationship. Anna is very deeply depressed, not because she misses the man (she is living with a man who she does love), but because she began to think of the man糖心传媒檚 child as her own. Caring for her grandmother seems like the perfect distraction. However, Anna finds herself more immersed in the psychological drama that silently shaped her mother糖心传媒檚 childhood and mirrors her own life in strange and unexpected ways. True, by Riikka Pulkkinen, is less about a family糖心传媒檚 struggle with cancer, and more about the mind糖心传媒檚 ability to create false memories and a family糖心传媒檚 ability to restructure in the face of loss, and how sometimes it糖心传媒檚 hard to recover from the same loss twice.

Click here to read the entire review.

One afternoon when Anna is drinking wine and having a picnic with her grandmother, they decide to play dress-up. Anna appears wearing a beautiful party dress she found in the attic. This drudges up a slew of old, unpleasant memories for Elsa. Elsa begins to tell Anna about Martti糖心传媒檚 affair with Eleonoora糖心传媒檚 nanny Eeva, who the dress belonged to. Two storylines begin to unfold: the family coping with Elsa糖心传媒檚 impending death and Anna coping with her breakup and her inability to visit with her ex-boyfriend糖心传媒檚 young daughter, and Anna糖心传媒檚 identification with Eeva, who suffered from similar feelings after her relationship with Martti was cut short by Elsa discovering about it. Anna begins to invent Eeva糖心传媒檚 life in her own mind, and it soon becomes difficult to divorce Anna糖心传媒檚 feelings and creations from her own memories.

We soon find out that Eleonoora糖心传媒檚 mind is playing tricks on her as well. Elsa, a successful psychologist, travels a lot during Eleonoora糖心传媒檚 early childhood, and many of her early memories of her mother are not in fact Elsa but instead are Eeva, but Eleonoora has no way of remembering this: she was too young at the time, and Elsa has reinforced her false memories by providing false information. The lines have blurred between Eeva the mistress and nanny and Elsa the biological mother, creating one woman who raised her: Mom. The day trips she took with Eeva and Martti while Elsa was away on business have firmly established Eleonoora糖心传媒檚 memories of her mother, although it is not actually her mother. The following passage, narrated by Eeva, illustrates one false memory in particular:

Later she [Eleonoora] remembers this boating trip, although she remembers nothing else from the whole summer. She builds memories from the words of others, but she tells her own daughter about this trip, as if it糖心传媒檚 a precious thing糖心传媒攖he nicest part was Mom and Dad and I went out in the boat to the island. Mom usually rowed, but Dad did sometimes. The sun was a friendly fire in the sky, it felt like the world had always been nothing but light and water and melted Fazer chocolate in a blue wrapper and I could lick it off the foil to my heart糖心传媒檚 content.

Eleonoora has unknowingly been shaped during her childhood by Elsa, who was able to gather her daughter糖心传媒檚 fragmented memories and reform them into a singular mother. However, this uses Eleonoora糖心传媒檚 difficulty coping with Elsa糖心传媒檚 death, after already having become estranged with Eeva, as a means to explore the bonds between mother and daughter, and how easily they can be altered by providing inaccurate information during the formative years. Eleonoora was confronted by the loss of the second half of her maternal figure, which shows how sometimes the mind and the heart falsely establish memories as coping mechanisms, seeking to avoid the pain of loss that Eeva and Anna ultimately shared by becoming estranged from individuals they grew to love. However, because Elsa protected her daughter (and by extension Martti) from this first crucial loss, Eleonoora is unequipped for the more significant loss of her real mother糖心传媒攚hich is really where the story begins.

滨糖心传媒檓 Aleksandra Fazlipour, although I typically go by Alek. Chad introduced me before, but I finally got registered as a contributor to the site, so it糖心传媒檚 my turn to do it again!

I started doing an independent study at Open Letter in January in an attempt to fill out a Creative Writing minor that I took alongside two degrees: one in Brain and Cognitive Science, and the other in Linguistics. I糖心传媒檝e always loved to read, and 滨糖心传媒檓 a native speaker of Polish, so it just seemed natural to get some credits for reading and reviewing translated works.

I expected to like it.

I didn糖心传媒檛 expect to fall in love with it. It was classwork, after all. . .

But all of a sudden, my assignments didn糖心传媒檛 feel like homework anymore. Granted, it was terrifying at first to have my reviews ripped to shreds by Chad, but I got over that quickly, and I still am surprised and exhilarated whenever I see one of my own reviews online. And they are much better than they started out as, courtesy of all of Chad糖心传媒檚 advice!

So when the opportunity to intern at Open Letter was presented to me, I snatched it right up.

Now, having graduated from the University of Rochester, here I am! I糖心传媒檒l be taking over as the threepercent book review editor until the end of August.

If what I糖心传媒檒l be doing for the rest of the summer is anything like what I糖心传媒檝e been doing thus far, it糖心传媒檒l include a lot of coffee-drinking and copious soaking-up-of incredible books. It糖心传媒檚 an added bonus to be able to get an early peek at the wonderful reviews I糖心传媒檒l be posting throughout the summer.

Sometimes I also stick labels to books and envelopes and send out stuff. Surprisingly, I enjoy that. It reminds me of sticker books.

Some random things about me: I bop around Open Letter wearing teddy bear sweaters and blouses embroidered to look like a Lite Brite. And I wear big glasses. I am often hard to overlook. In my free time I write short stories. I am handy with spreadsheets. I like kittens until I start sneezing because of said kittens, and then I like them decidedly less. Sometimes 滨糖心传媒檓 too brutally honest for my own good and for other people糖心传媒檚 feelings. It hasn糖心传媒檛 become a huge problem yet. Nothing wrong with being passionate, right? I糖心传媒檇 like to think it shows in my reviews.

Most of all though, I really adore working at Open Letter, and I hope that shows too! Feel free to comment here or send me an email (Aleksandra.fazlipour@gmail.com) if you have any questions or concerns about any of my posts, or if you just want to chat! I糖心传媒檒l try to get back to you as soon as I can.

糖心传媒楾il then, enjoy threepercent!

Over the course of the novella, the audience peers in at the club meetings and experiences several different conceptions as they unweave. The president of the club, Zez, is extremely dedicated to the creative process, perhaps more so than the other six conceivers in the room. Any written manuscript smuggled in must be committed to death within the flames of the fire. Furthermore, the narratives presented are often inconsistent and wrap up in a way that might even be unexpected to the storyteller themselves. When this occurs, Zez often redirects the conceiver and demands the story be retold with a different ending or be restarted altogether. This leads to stilted dynamic within the room. In order to act as a moderator within the room, the narrator is drawn into the group:

As a temporary measure, we decided to include an outside pair of ears, an average reader brought up on letterizations: would the emptiness of our shelves prove sufficiently visible? Here Fev began to fret: 糖心传媒楧arkness,糖心传媒� he said, 糖心传媒榯urns men into thieves糖心传媒攊t糖心传媒檚 only natural: what if this intruder, whose head we shall stuff full of our conceptions, manages to extract them and exchange them for money and fame?糖心传媒� 糖心传媒楧on糖心传媒檛 be absurd,糖心传媒� said Zez. 糖心传媒業 know the perfect person for this. We may reveal all our themes to him, without a worry. He won糖心传媒檛 touch one.糖心传媒� 糖心传媒楤ut why?糖心传媒� 糖心传媒楤ecause he糖心传媒檚 all thumbs: what Fichte called a 糖心传媒榩ure reader糖心传媒�: the best match for pure conceptions.糖心传媒�

In their quest to come up with the perfect and most innovative conception, the conceivers often disagree with one another and the story comes to a head when one conceiver storms out of the room and does not return to another meeting糖心传媒擱ar, the only conceiver who showed a thread of humanity and who reached out to narrator and who disobeyed the rules of the Letter Killers Club, turns up dead. Over the course of the novella, the Con Shakespearean actor, split into two conflicting characters, journeys into the Land of Roles to find the perfect Hamlet to bring to the stage. A young bride is wed to an entire town. A medieval priest doubles as a jester. An elite ruling class uses mind-control by way of machines and biochemical ether to enslave lower classes. A Roman scribe is stranded by the River Acheron and is unable to move into the afterlife when a little girl comes across the money meant for his passage. Three men voyage to determine the true purpose of the mouth糖心传媒攖o kiss, to eat, or to speak. However, the tales within the story do not join together into a larger narrative, which adds to its appeal: the club is not focused on the tales as much as they are focused on their purpose, which is the elimination of the written word.

In the ultimate act of betrayal against the club, the 糖心传媒榩ure reader糖心传媒� who acted as the narrator throughout the book commits the tales presented to him within the meetings to paper. This suggests that the environment, as opposed to solely the written word, is largely responsible for crushing one糖心传媒檚 imagination. The novel concludes with a question of how dangerous words, or the lack thereof, can be, especially in a setting as tense as Soviet Russia in the 1920s.