Relaying events in the present tense, the first-person narrator carries the reader on her jagged journey through circus camps, crowded hotel rooms, a short stint at a Swiss boarding school, and finally the vaudeville stage糖心传媒攁ll before hitting puberty. The narrator has no say in the direction of her journey. She hates parading around with the circus, claiming, 糖心传媒淭he closing parade with fanfare music is almost as awful as when I had my appendix out. All the artistes stand in a row or a circle and wave. That糖心传媒檚 so embarrassing.糖心传媒� To make matters worse, every day the narrator worries that her mother will die while performing. 糖心传媒淚 sleep late in the morning to shorten my fear, because if I get up early the fear will last until her performance begins,糖心传媒� she confesses.

But what can the narrator do to change her situation? Whom can she tell? She is forbidden from having friends糖心传媒攅ven speaking to someone without permission is 糖心传媒減rohibited糖心传媒� because according to her mother other people might be dangerous or steal her family糖心传媒檚 circus acts. On the rare occasion that the narrator does voice her opinion, she is either punished or ignored. Throughout the book, the narrator claims she wants to be an actress and make a lot of money. But when she gets an opportunity to perform on stage she laments, 糖心传媒淚 pictured happiness differently.糖心传媒� This is probably because her visions of being a glamorous actress didn糖心传媒檛 involve nipple tassels. She also hadn糖心传媒檛 considered that her modest earnings would spark an onslaught of monetary requests from distant aunts and ancient grandparents. What does the narrator really want? 糖心传媒�. . . To be like the people out there. There they can all read and they know things; their souls are made of white flour.糖心传媒�

With days in constant motion, the only thing consistent in the narrator糖心传媒檚 life are her fantasies about lounging poolside with Sophia Loren and the question she keeps asking about why an unknown child is cooking in the polenta. While the question of the child in the polenta is repeated throughout the book, her explanations evolve from darkly whimsical narratives, 糖心传媒淲hen the grandmother糖心传媒檚 outside, the polenta says to the child: I糖心传媒檓 so alone, wouldn糖心传媒檛 you like to play with me? And the child climbs into the pot,糖心传媒� to alarming capitalized outbursts like, 糖心传媒淭HE CHILD IS COOKING IN THE POLENTA BECAUSE ITS MOTHER JABBED SCISSORS INTO ITS FACE.糖心传媒�

The growing sense of despair in the narrator糖心传媒檚 voice mirrors the increasingly hopeless state of her existence. Even when she has the opportunity to go to school briefly, between taunts from classmates and writing standards on a blackboard in the attic, all she comes out of it having learned is how different she is from everyone else. On the page the text physically appears as disconnected as she is. The first line of each paragraph is not indented; instead the lines that follow are. And paragraphs rarely ever exceed one or two sentences. Within this erratic layout, Veteranyi proliferates her world through a series of surreal reflections: 糖心传媒淲hen the mother cries, there糖心传媒檚 a flood in her belly, because the baby cries too.糖心传媒� Some pages consist of a single unexpected declaration like, 糖心传媒淢Y FATHER IS SHORT LIKE A CHAIR.糖心传媒� The empty space on the page leaves room for the reader to contemplate what has intentionally been left out. Other pages end abruptly on sudden notes of sadness: 糖心传媒淚f I get used to hell quickly, then maybe we can leave here pretty soon.糖心传媒� Veteranyi has endless ways to illustrate loneliness.

The narrator糖心传媒檚 story largely correlates with actual events in Veteranyi糖心传媒檚 life. Her writing is at times intentionally inaccessible, indicative of the child narrator whose wounds are too fresh to talk about. In this type of experimental literature, there is a fine line between genius and confusion. A line Vincent Kling, professor of German and contemporary literature at La Salle and seasoned translator, ignites as he fearlessly renders Veteranyi糖心传媒檚 starry and sordid German in English. He preserves Veteranyi糖心传媒檚 unsettling descriptions and outbursts, with statements like, 糖心传媒淏acks grew all over my father糖心传媒檚 body,糖心传媒� and 糖心传媒淚 want to be raped by two men at the same time,糖心传媒� both which serve to heighten the underlying presence of uncertainty and pain.

All in all Polenta displays the awkward beauty of a contortionist. In his afterword, 糖心传媒淎 Home in Language,糖心传媒� Kling connects the dots between Veteranyi糖心传媒檚 life and her work, helping readers to make sense of her often obscure prose. He divulges that Veteranyi was multilingual yet remained illiterate until the age of seventeen. Glimpses like this help illuminate her disjointed style and eccentric use of language. According to Kling, there is little that distinguishes the narrator from Veteranyi. Perhaps the most significance difference is that the narrator gives up without fighting, whereas Veteranyi refused to accept defeat, arguing her way into acting school and defending the style of Polenta to dubious critics.

Polenta marks a personal triumph for the author. This success that makes it all the more heart wrenching to learn that in 2002, just a few years after publishing Polenta, Veteranyi took her own life. Proof, as Kling puts it that 糖心传媒渓iterary expression is not always the reliably curative therapeutic act it is often considered.糖心传媒� Yet it was through the process of opening old wounds that Veterani was able to spin her tumultuous childhood into a single venomous cloud of cotton candy, making a home for herself in Swiss literature.

Heather Simon is another of Susan Bernofsky’s students who kindly offered to write a review for our website. And this is quite a review. It makes the book sound really interesting and strangely funny, but then, at the very end, the review takes a seriously dark turn.

Here’s the opening of her review:

Why the Child Is Cooking in the Polenta by Aglaja Veteranyi cartwheels through the childhood exploits of the unnamed daughter of circus performers: Romanian refugees caravanning through Europe with dreams of fame, fortune, and a big house with a swimming pool. Veteranyi糖心传媒檚 (almost) memoir and literary debut is told from the point of view of an ungainly young girl who is constantly being shushed by authority. Her mother糖心传媒攚ho never lets anyone get a word in edgewise糖心传媒攎akes a living dangling from her hair, and her father works as clown and amateur filmmaker, shooting home-style documentaries for the narrator to star in as a silent protagonist; her only line is ever 糖心传媒淗elp.糖心传媒�

Relaying events in the present tense, the first-person narrator carries the reader on her jagged journey through circus camps, crowded hotel rooms, a short stint at a Swiss boarding school, and finally the vaudeville stage糖心传媒攁ll before hitting puberty. The narrator has no say in the direction of her journey. She hates parading around with the circus, claiming, 糖心传媒淭he closing parade with fanfare music is almost as awful as when I had my appendix out. All the artistes stand in a row or a circle and wave. That糖心传媒檚 so embarrassing.糖心传媒� To make matters worse, every day the narrator worries that her mother will die while performing. 糖心传媒淚 sleep late in the morning to shorten my fear, because if I get up early the fear will last until her performance begins,糖心传媒� she confesses.

But what can the narrator do to change her situation? Whom can she tell? She is forbidden from having friends糖心传媒攅ven speaking to someone without permission is 糖心传媒減rohibited糖心传媒� because according to her mother other people might be dangerous or steal her family糖心传媒檚 circus acts. On the rare occasion that the narrator does voice her opinion, she is either punished or ignored. Throughout the book, the narrator claims she wants to be an actress and make a lot of money. But when she gets an opportunity to perform on stage she laments, 糖心传媒淚 pictured happiness differently.糖心传媒� This is probably because her visions of being a glamorous actress didn糖心传媒檛 involve nipple tassels. She also hadn糖心传媒檛 considered that her modest earnings would spark an onslaught of monetary requests from distant aunts and ancient grandparents. What does the narrator really want? 糖心传媒�. . . To be like the people out there. There they can all read and they know things; their souls are made of white flour.糖心传媒�

Click here to read the full review.