A Girl in Exile

October 15, 2017
Kadare (Twilight of the Eastern Gods, 2015, etc.) subverts the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice into a parable of totalitarianism. The prizewinning novelist published this in his native Albania in 2009 and set it within "the dictatorship of the proletariat" that ruled his homeland for much of the latter half of the 20th century. The protagonist is a playwright who has been summoned for questioning by the Party Committee. He figures his newest work has fallen under scrutiny by investigators, who would be "looking for hostile catchphrases, counting the number of lines given to negative characters as against positive ones, looking at the fingerprints on the manuscript to find out if anyone suspicious had read it." Instead, it seems, the issue at hand is an entirely different matter: a young woman has committed suicide, and in her hands was a book the writer had inscribed to her. He tells the committee he had never met her but had inscribed the book at a reading, at the request of another young woman, with whom he had proceeded into a tumultuous relationship. The playwright had suspected that this woman might be a spy for the government, and now he becomes increasingly concerned about his suspected involvement in the death of a woman he never met. The novel spirals deeper into surreal mystery as it explores the relationship between the two women, the impetus for the suicide, and the impact of the investigation on a play the protagonist is in the process of writing. "Better if you don't know," an investigator responds when the playwright asks of the circumstances surrounding the suicide. In his obsessive reflections, the playwright somehow becomes Orpheus, whose artistry can bring his wife back from the dead, but only if he keeps from looking at her as he leads her out of Hades. Myth and dream, memory and repression, all converge as the novel illuminates the essence of art in totalitarian Albania. An author respected throughout Europe should reach a wider American readership with this subversive novel.

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November 1, 2017

This translation of a 2009 work by award-winning author Kadare is set in Communist-era Albania, circa 1990. A playwright/author, who is having an affair with a young woman he's met at a book signing, is called in for questioning--not, as he fears, about Party disapproval of his recent play but about his potential involvement with another young woman he's never met. She had been detained, along with her entire family, in government-imposed exile in the provinces and recently committed suicide. Though the novel effectively conveys the era's drabness and repression, providing a timely sense of the constraints imposed by authoritarian regimes, it might have been more interesting had it focused on the regime's impact on the two young women. Though Kadare briefly sends his imagination in that direction, the playwright/narrator ultimately reduces the women to literary tropes and makes the story all about himself, with the usual surveillance fears and interrogation scenes typical of Cold War novels. VERDICT A good treatment of repressive politics but a missed opportunity for fuller involvement; Kadare's name will attract some readers.--Reba Leiding, emeritus, James Madison Univ. Lib., Harrisonburg, VA

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November 20, 2017
A middle-aged writer’s oblique connection to a young suicide is the avenue by which Kadare (The General of the Dead Army) provocatively explores the intrusive Albanian state apparatus of the 1980s. When the Party Committee summons writer Rudian Stefa, he worries artistic censors complained to the regime about his latest play. If not the play, perhaps he should worry about shoving his girlfriend Migena, or accusing her of being a spy. The regime’s invasiveness becomes increasingly clear as the tragedy of the dead girl—who grew up in exile—unfolds and connects her to Rudian; Migena asked him at a signing to autograph a book “for Linda B.” The authorities have Linda’s copy of the book and her diary, which reveals an obsession with Rudian and provides clues to a desperate plan that involves Migena. Comparisons to Kafka are inevitable, but there’s also some Joseph Heller here. Kadare successfully renders Big Brother, and, though Linda’s hopeless scheme strains credulity, this is nonetheless a poignant narrative about exile.

December 15, 2017
Albanian writer Kadare's (The Fall of the Stone City, 2013) latest is overt in its critique of totalitarianism. Waiting for his newest play, a controversial ghost story, to be cleared by the censor's office, dissident writer Rudian Stefa is called before the Party Committee about his connection to Linda B., a young suicide who had a signed copy of his book and a diary etched with his name. Linda, from the same remote town as Rudian's moody, mysterious lover, Migena, was a political internal exile, forbidden to visit the city she came to adore through Rudian's writing. Although he never met her, could he be responsible for her death? In considering an act of dramatic and perhaps supernatural resistance accomplished by two girlsdaughters of socialism, as the phrase wentin a godforsaken Albanian province, Kadare offers new takes on his signature traits, the reanimation of old myths and the melding of fantasy and realism, of the grim and the surreal. Kadare is frequently mentioned as a Nobel contender, and his chances should only be enhanced by this odd and powerful novel.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2017, American Library Association.)