protean depravity

  It's truly crazy how fast this year went past. And although we were spared most of the dreaded catastrophes on the bigger scale, on a personal level this year has taken a toll on me - it was a rough year, to say the least. After watching my father, my best friend, and numerous good friends who returned to their own countries after the pandemic disappear from my life and the jarring legalities and heritage ugliness, I was very thankful to be able to at least travel in the summer to think about things, to soothe the hurt and confusion some.

Realizing I didn't have a favorite book yet for the year 2023 until I recently read the new Bazterrica made me question the books I have been reading these past six months. None of them could hit me hard enough and that made me ponder why. I don't really have an answer for the why, maybe I was more focused when mostly at home during the pandemic, maybe the books really aren't that great, I don't know.

It really is a special kind of pleasure to read really short, bite-sized stories which nevertheless succeed in capturing strong moments, like Agustina Bazterrica does in Nineteen Claws and a Black Bird . A pleasure which I in fact would compare to reading poetry, as all twenty of these mini stories are written with utmost wit and make you return and re-read a passage or two which touches you particularly strongly. That's how I ended up, many times over in the past week at the subway station to work, and instead of flowing with the crowd, I stood in a corner re-reading the story I just finished in the train with a big smile on my face. And when I came home in the evening, I couldn't wait to read them again. Bazterrica has already proven with her achingly devastating cannibalistic dystopia Tender is the Flesh that she can write a poignant novel. Now she captivates her readers with these absolutely delightful mini stories too.