by Herta Muller
Nobel Laureate. Moody, atmosphereic piece. Rather short and at tines a bit difficult to follow, but overall engaging. Makes a great approach to representing the tangled materiality and subdued political consciousness of Communist Romania. Overall I was quite a fan of the prose, and the book made a good way to pass the time. It lacked a bit of extra oomph that would carry in into being truly great and on the strenght of just this work I’m not sure if Muller deserve’s Nobel Laureate status, but I’m intrigued enough to probably give one of her longer books a try at some point.
Worse than: The Good Terrorist by Doris Lessing
Better than: Blindness by Jose Saramago
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