“He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared like a pack of angry lions. The steering wheel vibrated. He pressed the accelerator. Lightly, a few times, and the lions turned into dragons” – this is how SA Cosby builds suspense and the reader falls into the trap. “Asphalt Desert” is a thriller, strong and dirty, where sometimes smelly cases, racial prejudices or a torn family history come to light.
The hero of the novel is Beauregard “Bug” Montage, a former driver, now a mechanic, who lived outside the law and now dreams of God’s world and, my God, how he wishes he could never, ever get into trouble again. Alas. He has seen too much in his life to accept life’s blows with humility. He does not turn his back, he believes in justice and demands it without saying “I’m sorry, I’m alive.” Or rather, says Cosby, who, after “Prickly Tears” (great original title: “Razorblade Tears”), which was well received in Poland, confirms his high position on the list of American writers.
The new book paints a portrait of contemporary American society, divided by class and race, where the law of the streets rules at night. Cosby’s captivating style is reminiscent of Quentin Tarantino’s “Grindhouse: Death Proof” era. As there, close-ups of the roar of old cars and the screeching of tires on curves are an important element of the narrative. In film, it’s easier; a lot of things can be resolved with a well-chosen lens. In literature, you have to work harder to create a fast-paced gem in the reader’s imagination. He can do that. Please read it and stick with it. It’s going to be amazing.
S. A. Cosby, “Asphalt Desert”, translated by Jan Kraśko, Agora Publishing House
Mist
A few weeks ago, I met an elderly lady in front of an antique shop in Grochów. Mrs. Alicja stumbled and when she got up, she couldn’t remember where she lived. After a while she gave me the name of the street, but as we walked she gave me more addresses. “It’s all krejzi, krejzi!” she kept repeating and secretly couldn’t wait until we got to her apartment so she could introduce me and my dog to her husband and treat her to coffee and sweets. After an hour of walking, I picked up the phone and called the police. When the patrol arrived, he thanked Mrs. Alicja for accompanying her. It turned out that her house was on the other side of the neighborhood. She had gotten lost. On the way home, I wondered what it’s like to care for people with memory loss on a daily basis. The answers can be found in Paulina Wójtowicz’s book of reports, dedicated to the stories of caregivers of people struggling with Alzheimer’s disease. A medical journalist with a PhD in humanities, she did a great job. She presented the problem efficiently and clearly, focusing on the testimonies of her family members. We read about ambivalence of feelings, shame and psychophysical exhaustion. Anyone who has been or is in such a situation can feel relieved when they come across the experiences of people who face similar challenges. This book provides comfort. And that is a lot. In moments of doubt, it is worth its weight in gold.
Paulina Wójtowicz, “(Not) my Alzheimer’s. Stories from caregivers”, RASP
Shadow
After the success of the book and stage adaptation “How I Didn’t Kill My Father and How I Regret It”, Mateusz Pakuła returns with another family story. He delves into the memories of his grandfather, who was saved from a communist prison by a secret police officer and was of Jewish origin, hidden by Pakuła’s ancestors during the Second World War. Not everything the author describes actually happened, not always in this personal setting, and for various reasons. Firstly, not everything is known, because there is no documentation or there is too much reliance on imagination. In the way he tells his story and plays with genres – prose, essay, drama – Pakuła is heavily inspired by “Afterglow” by the American writer Michael Chabon, which he openly admits in the book and in interviews with the press.
The titular grandfather’s leather is a coat hanging in the closet, but it is also a question of identity. The author gets into the shoes of the inhabitants of Kielce in the early 1950s. The book opens with the sentence: “Before I knew who the Jews really were, I was already an anti-Semite.” What could that mean then? More! What could it mean on July 4, 1946, when, together with militiamen and soldiers, a massacre of Jewish survivors of the Holocaust was carried out at 7 Planty Street? What does it mean to encounter an anti-Semitic shadow within yourself?
When reading the text, it is easy to imagine a theatrical adaptation. Playing with form, clear transitions between scenes, revealing the existence of several planes. Pakuła, remember, is a playwright, the theater is his second home. You can feel this when reading “Pele…”.
It contains 176 pages, but takes longer to read than the volume would normally suggest. The subconscious quickly comes to the fore, and the questions the author (himself) asks are involuntarily passed on to the reader. You may want to do your own research. And who knows, maybe even fantasize about your own ancestors.
Mateusz Pakuła, “Grandpa’s Skin”, Agora Publishing
