Our desks are regularly inundated with an intriguing array of soon-to-be-published books, a phenomenon that often feels akin to sorting through a cabinet of curiosities. This summer, aside from a collection of debut novels and reissued classics, we stumbled upon delightful oddities—a chapbook of eighties cat-themed poems from Italy and a semi-epistolary critique addressed to "Dear Neoliberalism." Within this literary bounty, I’ve gathered some remarkable passages for your consideration.
A standout in our Spring 2024 issue is Joanna Kavenna's short story titled The Beautiful Salmon, featuring a philosophy student caught in a tense dinner party with a “brilliant and terrifying” professor. The richness of the narrative continues in Seven: or, How to Play a Game Without Rules (Faber & Faber), Kavenna’s novel where the same student grapples with the oddities of "Box Philosophy." At one point, the professor tasks the student with finding a “poet-dentist” in Greece, who intriguingly is connected to something called the Fanouropiton or the Catalogue of Lost Things.
The “book” comprises short entries categorized like an encyclopedia. It dives into themes such as “Things Lost by War,” “Things Lost by Human Folly,” and even “Things Lost Because Too Many People Cared About Them.” One remarkable entry, “Things You’d Assume Were Too Big to Get Lost,” describes an entire galaxy brighter than the sun, only for it to mysteriously vanish when examined by prominent astronomers—its disappearance remains unexplained, necessitating its rediscovery to unlock that mystery.
Meanwhile, A. Igoni Barrett's latest work has garnered notable attention. His debut novel, Blackass, follows the surreal tale of Furo Wariboko, who awakens one day in Lagos transformed into a white man, although his identity remains anchored by his unchanged buttocks. This story sets the stage for Barrett's follow-up, Whyteface (Greywolf), which opens with a striking epigraph that reads:
Please don’t peace here
—WORDS SCRAWLED IN PAINT ON A PISS-STAINED WALL SOMEWHERE IN NIGERIA
Another noteworthy title is The Responsible Party by Claire Carusillo, who unfolds her tale through a protagonist of the same name. Her narrative weaves together the complex threads of familial history entwined with regional vaudeville and unresolved murders. Here’s a passage that captures this intricate family dynamic:
As a girl, my great-grandmother Dag exuded that same toxic chromium-6 glow as the perfect tens I grew up with a hundred years later. Like those dime pieces, Dag was astonishingly beautiful for Illinois, still pretty good by coastal standards, and so secure in her wherewithal; she was unfazed by conventional norms.
For readers intrigued by past literary explorations, Rosalind Belben’s Is Beauty Good presents a tapestry of text that straddles the line between a novel and collection of poetic reflections, reinstated in print after its initial release in 1989. From a chapter titled “The Shy Elt,” the singularity of her prose shines:
She has sold all our assets & squandrd the proceeds; a child cld tell her that is !!false econ. I AM perturbd.
Lee Cadesky’s Grub: Why We Eat, Why It Matters, and the Seven Forces That Shape Our Food (Prometheus) includes endnotes that delve into the chemistry of water, illustrating complex relationships in a playful yet informative manner:
The atoms in water arrange themselves in a very specific way. Oxygen sits at the center of the molecule...
Jacqueline Harpman's We Were Forbidden, translated by Ros Schwartz, offers a glimpse into the friendships amidst the backdrop of war in the form of short stories. “The Outcast,” one such narrative, reveals a poignant moment between two teenage friends:
In 1942, after the American landing in Casablanca, Henriette switched allegiance from Pétain to De Gaulle. I tactfully refrained from comment.
Emily Eakin’s The Frenchmen: Or, My Life In Theory (Penguin Press) unfolds like a group biography of notable French theorists, highlighting the inconsistencies and idiosyncrasies within academic life. Here’s an excerpt reflecting on historical dining experiences:
When Derrida was a student, he filed a formal complaint about the food, objecting to the mushy peas and the Camembert that approached “the consistency of brick.”
Lastly, Ivan Turgenev’s Smoke, now newly translated, contains a foreword added due to earlier critiques directed at its portrayal of Russian expatriates. The opening remarks expose the tension between authorial intent and public reception:
But after mature consideration of the matter, the author did not think it necessary to follow this advice.
This delightful mix showcases the literary serendipity artists continue to bring to the table, propelling forward conversations about identity, memory, and the subtleties of human experience in vibrant ways.