A review by alectastic
SS Proleterka by Alastair McEwan, Fleur Jaeggy

4.0

I am looking for something that has no outward appearance.

Jaeggy is ferocious. She scrutinizes absolute emptiness, searching for what might be hidden there. And we readers are with her, feeling around in the dark for what she’s trying to find.

Each sentence of hers holds possibilities, secrets. Religiously, her writings fold plenty of sadness and violence between the words. There is a lot “there” that is not there.

When one reads Jaeggy, one holds their breath. Her books submerge the reader in a menacing and atmospheric world with no easy way of escape. The only way out is through.

Jaeggy understands that to communicate sometimes all we need are sentence fragments. Horrifyingly ephemeral mysteries. She mercilessly wields misery.

This book is brutally abrupt.