Review
When a translator's note claims that some of the recipes in a book should carry a health warning you know you're in for a surprise. In fact, it's the mushrooms that give cause for concern because, when it comes to fraternizing with fungi, Olga Tokarczuk cooks up a paean to puffballs. 'If I weren't a person,' she writes, 'I'd be a mushroom.' Why? Well, obviously the mushroom has a certain capacity to confuse the human mind. And aside from living on dead things, the mushroom (Tokarczuk claims) makes no distinction between day and night. Indeed, at dawn and dusk, when everything else is preoccupied with waking up or falling asleep, the mushroom is secretly growing. This book is not as loopy as it sounds. The real object of Tokarczuk's fascination is not mushrooms but the interior lives of her neighbours in her native south-west Poland. Part of the German Reich until 1945, south-west Poland is the hotch-potch region known as Silesia. Inevitably subject to shifting national identity, Silesia's people are in the main ordinary folk, uncomplicated and unsophisticated. They believe in werewolves, they dream fantastical dreams. They are occasionally illiterate, they like eating mushrooms. But, as with those secretly growing mushrooms, Tokarczuk begins to discover that there is far more than meets the eye to the members of her local community. The resulting unusual but charming collection of fictional pieces demonstrates the author's skill in imaginative portraiture. A popular writer in her own country, Olga Tokarczuk is here published for the first time in English, introducing into the mainstream of Western literature the study of a little-known area of middle European life. Very welcome, providing we remember that point about mushrooms and don't try this at home. (Kirkus UK)
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'A grounded but magical novel which is funny and intelligent
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