The dinner of the novella糖心传媒檚 title is at the home of the narrator糖心传媒檚 unnamed friend (糖心传媒渢he last friend I had糖心传媒�) where the narrator and his elderly mother are the only guests. The friend keeps Mama entertained during dinner with gossipy stories about the families in the town of Pringles, and the two are 糖心传媒減erfectly in sync糖心传媒� with their back-and-forth name-dropping. The narrator does not participate in their exchange. He has never attempted to remember the names of Pringles糖心传媒� residents and considers such refusal his 糖心传媒�. . . way of rejecting the life of the town where I had, nonetheless, spent my entire life. . . .糖心传媒� The evening takes a creepy turn after the meal when the friend shows-off some of the mechanical dolls and other fantastical toys that he collects. The dim lighting in the friend糖心传媒檚 home, along with the dolls糖心传媒� strange, mechanical movements and disturbing countenances bring an unsettling ambience to the evening糖心传媒檚 end.

At home, after Mama putters off to bed for the night, the narrator turns on the television and happens to catch a program reporting from the local cemetery where the dead are rising from their graves and moving en mass through the town, sucking human endorphins from the brains of the living. As the narrator watches the unfolding crisis, images of the friend糖心传媒檚 toys and snippets of his stories, dreamlike, merge with the television coverage. The town糖心传媒檚 certain destruction is averted only when a little, old lady unwittingly discovers that the dead will return to their graves if they hear their names:

It came to her from the depth of her being, independent of any mental process, it came to her from the substrata of life in Pringles, from the erudition of many years and a lifelong passionate interest in the lives of others, which in small towns is equivalent to life itself. What came to her was his name.

Despite its entertaining and fantastical premise, Dinner, never strays from Aira糖心传媒檚 theme: the very human need to have others to take an interest in who we are. Our names situate us within the genealogy and history of our community and bring organization to the multitude of relationships that exist. And it is in this continual process of orientation that identity and belonging are validated. That is why Pringles糖心传媒� dead (and living too, for that matter) need to be remembered and acknowledged. Although the narrator is able to recognize nearly all of Pringles糖心传媒� residents when he passes them on the street, he sees them only in shadow, not as fully realized, unique individuals with their own strengths and vulnerabilities, aspirations and fears. And in his selfish refusal to identify, to connect, the narrator gradually extinguishes his own humanity, his compassion, his ability to empathize. As the friend tells him,

You have to know how to see beyond the interests of survival and make the decision to give something to the world, because only those who give, receive.

How wonderful it would be if every difficult life lesson could come gift-wrapped in a thoughtful and amusing tale from Mr. Aira!

The first time I read C茅sar Aira was four years ago: Ghosts and The Literary Conference. At the time I had my opinions about both, but in retrospect糖心传媒攁nd this surprises me糖心传媒擨 actually liked both books very much (four years ago I had a lot of issues with Ghosts, but I was also sleeping erratic, graduate student hours and living off of discounted Cliff Bars and anything cheap vegetable you could saut茅 and roll into a tortilla, so let’s just assume that I didn’t have enough nutrients in my body to understand). And to be honest, I was half way through Lori’s review, thinking, “What the hell kind of book is this?!”, and then my eyes jumped to the top of the page to double-check who the author was. It was Aira. Which, of course! Of course. Now this all makes sense. I think that’s a great way to remind yourself of certain authors (note: I don’t say to think of certain authors). For example, Chuck Palahnuik’s writing is weird, disturbing, fast-paced, and will probably give you meat-sweats within your nightmares. Aira, as another example, has a quirkiness to his content (sometimes aggressively so, other times very understatedly) that, years later, makes me think fondly on his works, and on the subsequent discussions we had in class about his works. Which (making a huge but relevant jump here) is more proof that literature is a gift that keeps on giving. And I’m glad to have Aira’s works in my memory bank for that purpose. I’m also glad to continually have more Aira to experience糖心传媒攕o thank you both to our friends at New Directions for that, and to super-translator Katherine Silver for her excellent work.

Here’s the beginning of Lori’s review:

C茅sar Aira dishes up an imaginative parable on how identity shapes our sense of belonging with Dinner, his latest release in English. Aira糖心传媒檚 narrator (who, appropriately, remains nameless) is a self-pitying, bitter man糖心传媒攊n his late fifties, living again with his mother in his childhood home, in debt, jobless, never married, overly critical of others糖心传媒攚ho somehow still manages to win our affection with his wry pathos.

The dinner of the novella糖心传媒檚 title is at the home of the narrator糖心传媒檚 unnamed friend (糖心传媒渢he last friend I had糖心传媒�) where the narrator and his elderly mother are the only guests. The friend keeps Mama entertained during dinner with gossipy stories about the families in the town of Pringles, and the two are 糖心传媒減erfectly in sync糖心传媒� with their back-and-forth name-dropping. The narrator does not participate in their exchange. He has never attempted to remember the names of Pringles糖心传媒� residents and considers such refusal his 糖心传媒�. . . way of rejecting the life of the town where I had, nonetheless, spent my entire life. . . .糖心传媒� The evening takes a creepy turn after the meal when the friend shows-off some of the mechanical dolls and other fantastical toys that he collects. The dim lighting in the friend糖心传媒檚 home, along with the dolls糖心传媒� strange, mechanical movements and disturbing countenances bring an unsettling ambience to the evening糖心传媒檚 end.

For the rest of the review, go here