‘The Cut’ & Brexit: An Interview with Peirene Press’ Meike Ziervogel

Peirene Press are masters of translated European fiction that speaks to the heart and soul of a particular moment in time. Last year, Peirene Press took a leap and began the Peirene Now! Series, commissioning short novels about current events that are heavily shaping our world today. Last year’s breach was one of the most introspective novels I have ever read, taking the experiences of refugees in the Calais refugee camps and turning them into incredibly heartbreaking short stories. In 2017, Peirene Press have published the second book in the Peirene Now! Series – The Cut. The Cut is a brilliantly written exploration of Britain and the people who voted in the Brexit referendum and uthor Anthony Cartwright gives equal space to both sides of the debate, whilst weaving a complex web of human relationships.

The Cut is the first novel I have seen, let alone read, about Brexit. Whilst the Brexit vote and recent General Election in the UK have been heavily documented by the media, The Cut is the first literary take on the effects of the vote and the implications for the British public. The book itself was funded by a kickstarter campaign that raised £6,745 ($11,412 AUD), so it is clear that this is a book that people not only wanted to read, but wanted to have a hand in producing.

I was lucky enough to interview Meike Ziervogel, founder and commissioning publisher at Peirene Press, about The Cut. A writer herself, Meike grew up in Northern Germany, before moving the the UK in 1986. Our interview is below…

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HAYLEY: First of all, thanks for taking the time out to discuss The Cut with INWORDSANDINK. So, how did the idea for the Peirene Now! Series come about?

MEIKE: Peirene’s specialises in translated fiction. This means that we can only choose from what is already out on the market in another country. Over the last few years, we started to realise that there are sometimes urgent issues we like to see addressed in literature but we couldn’t find a story about it anywhere. So we decided to set up a series of commissioned novels responding to pressing topics that are concerning us and our readers right this very moment.

HAYLEY: How important was it to you to commission a novel about Brexit?

MEIKE: The referendum has been one of the most important political events in the UK this century. It concerns us all.

HAYLEY: Why did you decide to commission the novel after Brexit rather than beforehand (as a speculative novel perhaps)?

MEIKE: Brexit hasn’t happened yet. So I commissioned the novel – and the novel was written – before Brexit, but – of course – after the decision to leave the EU.

Before the referendum I lived in a bubble. I assumed there would be no Brexit – ever. The outcome of the referendum was a shock and a wake-up call for me. I suddenly understood that I live in a divided country. I commissioned Anthony Cartwright to create a literary bridge between the two Britains that opposed each other on referendum day.

HAYLEY: What about Anthony made you decide he was the person to write this book?

MEIKE: I wanted a story that would make me see what I previously wasn’t aware of. Anthony comes from the Black Country where many people voted for Brexit. His four previous novels are all set in Dudley. Emotionally and psychologically he understands the area and he empathizes with the people who voted ‘no’ to the EU. Moreover he is a very good writer. Before I commissioned Anthony I read his fourth novel, ‘Iron Towns’ and I enjoyed it. I could see that Anthony would be bring the right sensibility to the subject matter.

HAYLEY: How did you negotiate what this book would discuss? What was that process like?

MEIKE: Anthony’s remit was to create an artistic response to what had become apparent during the referendum – the division of this country into two halves. Initially we discussed possible story lines. Then we had editorial meetings after each draft, discussing and refining the story line, imagery and characters.

HAYLEY: What about this book really spoke to you about pre- and post-Brexit Britain?

MEIKE: It was only after the book had been completed and I could take a step back from it – read it like a reader and not as an editor –  that I realised how Anthony’s subconscious had thrown up the perfect image for the situation in our country. We, i.e. both sides of the divided country, The Remainers and Brexiteers, are in bed together. We have a relationship – a troubled one, yes but we have to live together. We can’t get away from each other. In The Cut neither Cairo nor Grace want their relationship to end badly. We – the Remainers and the Brexiteers – have to be careful that our relationship, too, doesn’t end badly. I believe that neither side really wants that to happen.

HAYLEY: As someone who was born in Germany, what does a book like THE CUT mean to you? What about it speaks to your experiences as a European immigrant in a country that has rejected the EU?

MEIKE: I have dual nationality. I have lived all my adult life in the UK. This is my home. I, too, need to change, in order to change the political situation. I can no longer excuse my lack of political engagement. And so I have now become a member of the Liberal Democrats and I campaigned for them during the last election.

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The Cut is available in all good bookstores, or directly from Peirene Press. As always, INWORDSANDINK encourages its readers to buy from and support their local independent bookstores and support independent press.

Thank you once again to Peirene Press for sending me a copy of The Cut, and to Meike for taking the time out to answer my questions. Please note, whilst I was sent the book for reviewing purposes, I was not in any way paid or financially obligated to write this review.

 

© Hayley New 2017

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“Do You Hear Me?”: A Review of Larry Tremblay’s ‘The Orange Grove’

Please Note: This review discusses suicide bombings, terror organisations, and violence against refugees, particularly children. In light of recent and ongoing attacks happening worldwide, I understand if this review is distressing as a result of its sensitive subject matter and I understand if you are not currently in the right emotional or mental space to continue to read this review. I have approached my review of The Orange Grove with the deepest respect for all victims of suicide bombings, terror attacks and other acts of senseless violence, and I send all my love to the victims of these attacks worldwide.

 

Larry Tremblay’s The Orange Grove is one of those books that change you. It fundamentally changes how you think and feel about a major contemporary issue. But it is also a book that makes you feel conflicted about that change, largely because that issue here is suicide bombings.

This book follows the story of young twins Ahmed and Aziz, who live with their parents and grandparents next to the family’s orange grove in the shade of the mountains. However, when their grandparents die as a result of a bomb being dropped on their house, the family is forced to confront the violence of the country’s civil war. A local militant group comes to the house to recruit one of the boys to strap on a belt of explosives and detonate it on the other side of the mountain, taking not only the lives of the believed bombers of their grandparents house, but also their own life. The catch: their parents have to decide which of their nine year old sons to sacrifice for the cause, the healthy Ahmed, or the terminally ill Aziz.

I’ll be honest. It was hard to read this book. Not because it wasn’t a good book, but because it was a brilliant book about something that is terribly and heartbreakingly real – the problem of violence committed by people who believe that their violent acts are justified and necessary.

I want to make it clear that in no way does this book justify suicide bombings, or indeed any other act of violence. Instead, it makes readers think about the term ‘victim’ in a more nuanced way, including those who are deliberately misled and coerced into committing acts of violence on behalf of organised terror groups in that victim label. When one of these boys walks over the mountain to blow himself and the believed perpetrators of his grandparents death, he is just as much a victim of the violence as the victims of his explosives belt. Especially since he and his family have deliberately been misled to think that the other side of the mountain holds military warehouses that are used to destroy the citizens on the orange grove side.

The other side of the mountain holds a refugee camp.

After sacrificing their son for what they had been led to believe was an act of rebellion against military brutality, the family is then left to live with the knowledge of what their son’s death was really for – the push for power by the leader of the local terror group. And that makes any reader’s heart break. You know from the way this family speaks to each other, how they love their community and how much they want peace, that they had no idea they were being misled. You can’t help but realise they are just as much victims as any person on the other side of the mountain – pawns in someone else’s game.

I am always interested in reading books from the perspectives of characters that have traditionally been rendered as side characters or background noise in novels. By taking this family, particularly the two boys Ahmed and Aziz, and positioning them as both perpetrators of violence and also victims of the local terror group, Tremblay has forced us to take a more nuanced look at how we view acts of violence worldwide. The victim/perpetrator binary is a far too simplistic way to discuss these events, and by breaking down the binary and forcing a discussion about the long lasting effects of these events on both sides of any act of violence, we are better positioned to consider solutions to these acts.

Beyond the violence, this book is about brotherhood, about the bond between Ahmed and Aziz, and about the love they have for each other. Both of them is scared for the other, and yet, it is the sacrifice of one brother in the name of the other that ultimately defines this book. I won’t reveal which brother dies, but I will say that perhaps the most heartbreaking part of the whole book comes from the brother who survives. For anyone who reads this books, you will find that the last section of this book from the perspective of the twenty year old survivor who leaves his home country for a better life is the hardest to read. Living with survivor’s guilt, and the knowledge that his twin died killing innocent people, it is the monologue that concludes the book that perhaps gives the greatest insight into the devastation of victimhood and pain. The final words that echo after the turn of the last page still haunt me:

“Do you hear me?”

Because we don’t often hear the people on the other side, the people who have been consistently demonised by media because of their actions. Yes, terrorism, suicide bombing and other acts of violence are awful events, but we are never the only victims. And we need to be careful about who we blame for these events. After reading this book, it is clear that in the circumstances of The Orange Grove, the leader of the local terror group deliberately lying to local families is the one who is responsible for all the pain, violence and death – but in real life, it is not always so simple to see this. So we need to be careful. Not all people who press the button want to be there, and not all of them know who they are ‘fighting’.

This is an extremely complex and compelling book by a Canadian author whose work I will continue to follow, and I encourage you to read this incredible book if only to challenge your conception of the victim/perpetrator binary. As always, I want to make mention of the incredible work of the translator of this novel, Sheila Fischman, who translated this book from Quebec French into English for Peirene Press. Without translator such as Fischman, so much work from non-English speaking writers would be lost to us and I am incredibly grateful for their work.

Of course, the experiences shown in this book do not represent the circumstances of all terror attacks or suicide bombings, and in the wake of recent events, I feel it is especially important to make it clear that this book is not representative of the backstory of every instigator of violent attacks. But, nonetheless, I think that this book should be read as part of our self-education, particularly at a time where media representations of the ‘other’ are becoming increasingly political and difficult to navigate.

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Larry Tremblay’s The Orange Grove is available from June 2017 in all good bookstores, or directly from Peirene Press. As always, INWORDSANDINK encourages its readers to buy from and support their local independent bookstores and support independent press.

Thank you once again to Peirene Press for sending me a copy of The Orange Grove. Whilst I was sent the book for reviewing purposes, I was not in any way paid or financially obligated to write this review.

 

 

 

 

 

© Hayley New 2017

As Complex as Stars: A Review of ‘The Last Summer’

The pen might be mightier than the sword, but the typewriter is a loaded bomb.

Ricarda Huch’s The Last Summer tells the story of the Governor of St Petersburg and his family following his decision to close the state university due to student unrest during the early twentieth century. The family soon receives a death threat, so they hire a bodyguard for the Governor – but even the bodyguard has a secret agenda, and it may cost the Governor his life.

The Last Summer is a novel made up completely of letters sent between the family members, and from Lyu, the young bodyguard to his friend Konstantin. The choice to structure the novel like this was surprising at first, but a unique way of telling a story such as this. Most novels I have read surrounding the early stirrings of the Russian Revolution have relied on action and dialogue, but to have this story completely rendered through letters gave a depth of insight into each character that I have not encountered in a novel about political and social unrest as this.

I haven’t read an epistolary novel like this in a long time, and even then, most of the epistolary novels I have read have only been framed by letters, rather than told completely by them. The short format of this novel allows for these letters to tell the whole story uninterrupted without seeming too dense, and I think that is why this story works so well. If the novel had been longer, I don’t think that this format would have worked, but the concise writing and cleverly hid details show that Huch really knew what she was doing.

I won’t lie – this book still requires serious concentration while reading it. Part of this is because of the book’s reliance on correspondence to tell the story, and unless you are really paying attention, you can easily forget who is writing to whom and why the little details they share with each other are important. But if I am going to be honest, part of the reason I needed to concentrate so hard was due to the characters’ unfamiliar names. Given that I am not so great at picking up Russian names, I found the letters hard to follow in some places, simply because I was confused as to who was who, but once I picked it up, I had no issues whatsoever.

Whilst this is a novel that centres on the aftermath of highly charged political events in the early twentieth century, it is clear that this novel is largely about people – how they interact with one another, how families are changed by individual action and how they choose their loyalties. This theme comes through particularly strong with Lyu, who despite his goals, quickly became my favourite character. Although we hear from Lyu less frequently than the family he has infiltrated, it is him we see most often, and by seeing him through the eyes of others, we get the greatest picture of him. Whilst he is ultimately plotting the assassination of the Governor, it is clear that in his plotting, he deeply cares for the family. He is one of the most flawed yet most empathetic characters I have come across, and it was strange to feel such empathy for the character committing the novel’s bad deeds. Unlike most books about class clashes, neither the Governor’s upper class family or the students and their supporters are written as the ‘bad guys’, and it is exactly this sentiment that underpins the novel. It is impossible to choose a side in the novel simply because we know both sides too well to see the other as undeniably wrong. Both sides are incredibly complexly constructed, forcing the reader to confront the complexity of human behaviour and action. It reminds me of something author John Green is known for saying – “We have to imagine people complexly” – and Huch has succeeded in making her readers notice how incredibly complex human relationships and loyalties are in the grand scheme of human behaviour.

Towards the end of the novel, Lyu writes perhaps my favourite line in the whole novel:

“We have as little power over people as we do over the stars; we see them rise and set according to their engrained laws.”

For me, that is exactly what The Last Summer is about – trying to understand the people around you and realising that you have precisely no power to do so. It is amazing that in such a short novel, Huch has accomplished something that many authors take hundreds of pages to say. People are complex creatures, and nothing is quite clear about them except that they only become more complex the closer you look.

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The Last Summer is available in all good bookstores, or directly from Peirene Press. As always, INWORDSANDINK encourages its readers to buy from and support their local independent bookstores and support independent press.

Thank you once again to Peirene Press for sending me a copy of The Last Summer. Whilst I was sent the book for reviewing purposes, I was not in any way paid or financially obligated to write this review.

 

 

© Hayley New 2017

‘Second-hand Memories Of War’: A Review of “breach”

‘This is what comes of getting too close, I told myself. You lose all perspective. I kept myself busy with laundry and then I picked fruit in the orchard, but my mind was on the world, the underworld, that I’d glimpsed from its edge, the figures pacing the high white fence along the railway line, shoulders up against the cold, hands deep in coat pockets, dark heads bent. Like figures from history or documentaries, I realised, like second-hand memories of war.’

– ‘The Terrier’, breach

Peirene Press’ latest release, the highly anticipated Peirene Now! No.1 breach, is a collection of brilliantly heartfelt stories following the tales of the refugee camps in the border town of Calais in France, the last town before the UK. Commissioned by Meike Ziervogel, Peirene Press Publisher, breach contains eight short stories brilliantly assembled by the writers, Olumide Popoola and Annie Holmes. Commissioned by Peirene Press to visit the Calais refugee camps to learn the stories of those living there, Popoola and Holmes have brilliantly distilled their experiences into the short works of fiction in this collection.

The stories in this collection each capture a moment, a brief insight filled to the brim with powerful feeling and emotion. While reading breach, I found that more than once I felt hollowed out and filled with these stories, with their intensity. Each story is cleverly self-contained, yet the entire collection has a continuous flow, weaving together a series of emotions that consume the reader. These stories have equal parts empathy, insight, humour and tragedy, and are uniquely written to share all sides of the refugee crisis, giving voices to everyone who has a story to tell.

Perhaps my favourite in the collection is ‘Paradise’, detailing the relationships between volunteers in the camps and those they are trying to help, specifically the young people in the Calais refugee camps. ‘Paradise’ ends with potentially the most heart-wrenching line I read in the entire collection:

“All the volunteers go. And you leave us here in the Jungle, thinking about you, missing you. It’s painful,” he says, “so please don’t love us so much.”

This plea for distance between those volunteering at the camps and those living there makes hits you hard as a reader. Often the line we are fed is that we are too ignorant of those suffering as a result of civil war, terrorism or other life threatening factors, so to read this line is perhaps the most striking moment in the book – to find out that our loving them can be just as detrimental to their morale as our ignoring their plight.

A close second is ‘Oranges In The River’, a short tale following Dlo and Jan, two young refugees trying to smuggle themselves to the UK in refrigerated trucks. There is a strangely beautiful moment when they remove boxes and boxes of oranges from one of these trucks, sending them floating down the river in droves, to make space to hide in. Dlo takes one of these oranges and tucks it carefully into his pocket, to save for a desperate time, a habit from his hardworn travels to Calais, despite the fact he will soon be climbing into a truck packed full to the brim with oranges. There is something incredibly telling in this small act, and reading it feels incredibly intimate.

It is important to recognise that these stories are works of fiction. These stories were not written to begin a pity party for the refugees camping in Calais, nor were they written to make us consider them as simple charity cases. These stories bring all the complexities of the refugees and their lives, as well as the challenges of the refugee crisis in Europe, to readers who may not have had such incredible emotional insight into the lives of those currently affected by the current refugee crisis. There is a seed of truth in these stories, and it is a credit to the authors, who committed themselves to thorough research and the desire to learn from those they met in Calais.

Of course, breach follows in Peirene Press’ tradition of cleverly written European novellas, short in length but easily one of the strongest works of fiction I have read this year. I cannot recommend it enough, particularly given the current political climate and debates around the international refugee crisis. Reading this collection is one of the most important things I have done this year, and I wholeheartedly believe it should be shared with as many people as possible.

 

breach is available in all good bookstores, or directly from Peirene Press. As always, INWORDSANDINK encourages its readers to buy from and support their local independent bookstores and support independent press.

Thank you once again to Peirene Press for sending me a copy of breach. Whilst I was sent the book for reviewing purposes, I was not in any way paid or financially obligated to write this review.

 

© Hayley New 2016

Her Father’s Daughter – A Review

Marie Sizun’s Her Father’s Daughter strikes me as easily one of the best reads of 2016, and more than that, it is a novel that you can’t help but make all your friends read immediately after you finish it. At only 150 pages in length, it seems almost criminal that such a short novel, one that could easily be read on a day’s worth of train journeys, could hold such an incredible story about family, loss and memory.

Part of Peirene Press’ 2016 Fairytale Series, Sizun’s novella brings an interesting new approach to the feel of domestic and family spaces. Following the central character of ‘the Child’, Sizun’s novel discusses the ways in which family dynamics are challenged by war, absence, truth and the secrets that adults keep from their children, whilst also tackling one of the most interesting spaces in literature – a child’s memory.

Sizun artfully replicates the fog of childhood memory, being sure not to coat over the gaps that time has gnawed away, but rather let those blank spaces in our minds become just as important in the figuring of the narrative as the clearest of the memories available to the Child. The Child’s recollection of the smell of perfume, the feel of her Mother’s clothes and the look of her Father’s “giraffe hands” (one of my favourite descriptions in the novel), are equally weighed with the gaps in the rembrance of specific events. Entire scenes are decimated by time, by sleep, by not being able to hear her parents arguing in the next room. To borrow from the book itself, Sizun skilfully weaves “hazy images, muted sounds, indistinct words” to form perhaps the best representation of childhood memory I have read in a long time. We are placed in the exact same space as the child, only with the foresight of our own experiences. Unlike the child, we can read the parents intentions more clearly, even if the child is more perceptive of their lies that we can be as readers.

The novel also makes an interesting comparison between the German occupation of Paris and the seeming occupation of the Child’s home by her Father, a man she has never met before. Through the Child’s eyes, we are given a peculiar and yet familiar glance at family life and the relationship between parents and their children, especially the relationship between war children and their absent fathers. I have never before read anything that tackles this relationship before, and it made for an interesting and cleverly written twist on the typical post-war reunion narrative. The ways in which the Child and her Father try to establish their relationship despite nearly four years without ever knowing each other is brilliantly navigated by Sizun, who is not afraid to demonise parents and children equally, whilst also making us sympathise for both sides. And yet, you not only watch the growth and destruction of relationships in this novel, you also bear witness to the birth and growth of the Child as an independent being, as a force of nature who has an incredible power amongst the adults who believe her to be little more than a spoiled child.

I am endlessly fascinated by the work of translators, especially translators of fiction, so I have to commend the work of Adriana Hunter in translating Her Father’s Daughter from the original French. Hunter masterfully translated this novella, keeping the poetic and incredibly airy French feel about it, something that is not always possible in translation. There is still a ring of French philosophical and poetic style that brings a lot to the English language version of Sizun’s work, adding to the authentic feel of the novel which makes it so appealing.

Peirene Press does incredible work in making English translations of European novellas more widely available and I am grateful that there are people so invested in making sure that bright little gems like Marie Sizun’s Her Father’s Daughter find their way into the hands of as many readers as possible.

 

Her Father’s Daughter is available in all good bookstores, or as part of the Peirene Press Fairytale Series 2016 book subscription. As always, INWORDSANDINK encourages its readers to buy from and support their local independent bookstores and support independent press.

Thank you once again to Peirene Press for sending me a copy of Her Father’s Daughter. Whilst I was sent the book for reviewing purposes, I was not in any way paid or financially obligated to write this review.

 

© Hayley New 2016