Irina Reyn’s new novel begins in the middle of a complex history: Nadia Borodinskaya, a single mother, has been working tirelessly in the United States for the last seven years to bring her adult-aged daughter, Larisska, from war-torn Ukraine.
From a city ensconced in massive treetops where no children are ever born, to a black market for human remains literally underground, Marlon James leads readers on a journey through an Africa western fantasy has long ignored.
Niviaq Korneliussen’s novel is short, only around two hundred pages, but it moves like a bullet: powerful, emotionally dense, and over much more quickly than I wanted it to be.
Mackintosh’s characters offer a representation of how young women deal with grief once a familial structure is undone, in the way of filling empty spaces that begin to present themselves.
Yan Lianke’s new novel asks: Are we dreamwalking through our entire lives?
Wendy Guerra, award-winning poet, novelist, actress, and television host, tackles surveillance, paranoia, and the instability of reality in her second novel translated into English.
Amparo Dávila’s collection is reminiscent of Shirley Jackson, Franz Kafka, and Edgar Allen Poe, and tests the limits of fiction.
In Unfurled, the reader is pulled forward in short, well-crafted chapters that simulate the rough-and-tumble journey through shock, grief, and the revelation of knowledge that the narrator initially rejects—that her mother survived and was in touch with her father.
In response to her novel, The Lake on Fire, Rosellen Brown has been compared to both Jane Austen and Tillie Olsen.
Garza's use of language and suspense is so skillful that she can remind us of the artifice of fiction in one moment, holding us up so we can see everything in its place, and in the next push our heads back beneath the surface of its conceit.