Book - 2013
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"Gone, finito , The End, I say. A father who puts an end to it all before he wears down the whole family deserves more praise than damnation." Two sisters travel to Sofia--in a convoy of luxury limousines arranged by a fellow Bulgarian exile--to bury their less-than-beloved father. Like tourists, they are chauffeured by the ever-charming Ruben Apostoloff--one sister in the back seat, one in the passenger seat, one sharp-tongued and aggressive, the other polite and considerate. In a caustic voice, Apostoloff shows them the treasures of his beloved country: the peacock-eye pottery (which contains poisonous dye), the Black Sea coast (which is utterly destroyed), the architecture (a twentieth-century crime). His attempts to win them over seem doomed to fail, as the sisters' Bulgarian heritage is a heavy burden--their father, a successful doctor and melancholy immigrant, appears in their dreams still dragging the rope with which he hanged himself. An account of a daughter's bitterly funny reckoning with her father and his country, laden with linguistic wit and black humor, Apostoloff will introduce the unique voice of Sibylle Lewitscharoff to a new and eager audience.
Publisher: London : Seagull Books , c2013.
ISBN: 9780857420886
Branch Call Number: FICTION LEW


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Feb 05, 2014

Too pretentious. No real story line, but a repetitive and angry trashing of everything and everyone she comes across on her journey. After the first couple of chapters you realize that this is it and nothing more is going to happen and you feel weary and impatient with the author's attempts at inventing some new literary form, her crowded use of words and witticisms.
At the end, it gets so tiresome to listen to her self-indulgent laments and vitriol that if anything, this book accomplishes one thing - to leave you as frustrated as the author herself pretends to be.
An unfortunate example of European "artistic" dead ends where words and form can bore one to death.
Not to mention how offensive it is to a whole nation, that of Bulgaria. A verbal holocaust, if there could be such a thing...

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