Scan barcode
A review by davygibbs
Brass by Xhenet Aliu
5.0
Where do you start talking about Brass, the debut novel by Xhenet Aliu? Do you start with the shape and structure of the thing, with the intertwining, generation-spanning narratives of mother and daughter, the former always leaning toward tomorrow, the latter rushing back to where she came from? Their stories knot together like shoelaces, or shoot off in parallel courses like racers on a track, or pummel one another like boxers in a ring, or glide and spin like dancers on a ballroom floor, but in every case, they enrich one another.
Or do you begin with the fundamental story the two women share, not an outlandish or even uncommon one, but one that's always worth telling, of men and women -- seeking, loving, finding, losing -- and entire nations, making promises and failing to keep them. A story of history repeating itself.
What about the characters, Elsie and Lulu, those gorgeous messes, their own eloquent narrators, so much harder on themselves than the cruel world in which they were born? Neither one able to solve the central problem of their lives, or even figure out if it's worth the trouble.
How about Aliu's agile, pugnacious prose? Sentences that snake around in complex, circular designs despite their directness. You won't need to read the paragraphs twice to catch their meaning, but you might read them again just for fun. In fact, it may be the language itself that will burn this book into your memory. You'll remember it the way you remember any moment of startling clarity or emotional resonance in your life. Aliu has a knack for writing scenes the way you'd remember them if they happened to you.
Brass comes at you in waves of increasing intensity and frequency. The pacing is masterful and when the waves break, they are devastating. You may even have to set the book aside for a while. But when you reopen it, the next wave is already building and you'll feel that tug and you'll read some more. Brass will pull you all the way to the last page -- and the emotions you'll feel upon reaching that moment may not be so unlike those of the characters with whom you are sharing it.
Or do you begin with the fundamental story the two women share, not an outlandish or even uncommon one, but one that's always worth telling, of men and women -- seeking, loving, finding, losing -- and entire nations, making promises and failing to keep them. A story of history repeating itself.
What about the characters, Elsie and Lulu, those gorgeous messes, their own eloquent narrators, so much harder on themselves than the cruel world in which they were born? Neither one able to solve the central problem of their lives, or even figure out if it's worth the trouble.
How about Aliu's agile, pugnacious prose? Sentences that snake around in complex, circular designs despite their directness. You won't need to read the paragraphs twice to catch their meaning, but you might read them again just for fun. In fact, it may be the language itself that will burn this book into your memory. You'll remember it the way you remember any moment of startling clarity or emotional resonance in your life. Aliu has a knack for writing scenes the way you'd remember them if they happened to you.
Brass comes at you in waves of increasing intensity and frequency. The pacing is masterful and when the waves break, they are devastating. You may even have to set the book aside for a while. But when you reopen it, the next wave is already building and you'll feel that tug and you'll read some more. Brass will pull you all the way to the last page -- and the emotions you'll feel upon reaching that moment may not be so unlike those of the characters with whom you are sharing it.