Nine Rabbits

by Virginia Zaharieva, Виргиния Захариева, Angela Rodel (Translation)

“Zaharieva packs several genres into one, including but not limited to pastoral idyll, sexual coming-of-age story, and feminist memoir. Ultimately, she presents life in all its messiness and possibility, vivid enough for the reader to almost taste.”— Publishers Weekly

"Gutsy, fresh and vivid, this story of one woman's brave quest through life will take you on a wild ride."—Kapka Kassabova, author of Street Without a Name and Twelve Minutes of Love

I turned up in the seaside town of Nesebar—an inconvenient four-year-old grandchild, just as my grandmother was raising the last two of her six children, putting the finishing touches on the house, ordering the workmen around and doing some of the construction work herself—thank God for that, because at least it used up some of her monstrous energy. Otherwise who knows what would've become of me.

In Bulgaria during the height of communism in the 1960s, six-year-old Manda survives her cruel grandmother and rural poverty by finding sheer delight in the world—plump vegetables, garden gnomes, and darkened attic corners. The young Manda endures severe beatings, seemingly indestructible. But as a middle-aged artist in newly democratic Bulgaria, she desperately tries to feed her damaged soul with intrepid creativity and humor.

Virginia Zaharieva was born in Sofia, Bulgaria, in 1959. She is a writer, psychotherapist, feminist, and mother. Her novel Nine Rabbits is among the most celebrated Bulgarian books to appear over the past two decades and the first of Zaharieva's work made available in North America.

Angela Rodel is an award-winning translator. Born and educated in the United States with degrees in linguistics from Yale and the University of California, Los Angeles, she currently resides in Sofia, Bulgaria.

Genres: Bulgarian Literature, Fiction, Bulgaria, Audiobook, Novels

184 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2008

About the author

Virginia Zaharieva was born in Sofia, Bulgaria, in 1959. She is a writer, psychotherapist, feminist, and mother. Her novel "Nine Rabbits" is among the most celebrated Bulgarian books to appear over the past two decades and the first of Zaharieva's work made available in North America.

Reviews

[Kaloyana · Rating 2 out of 5]

Давам две звездички само заради обещаващото начало, което беше първата част. Много мило описание на детсвото в крайморския град. Напомняше ми старите български филми за деца и моето детство край морето. Тази, така наречена част, за мен нямаше никаква връзка с втората част и последвалия словесен бълвоч. Тоест, тя не предвещаваше такова развитие на героя. Беше съвсем отделна книга, но само започната. Втората част, която всъщност е цялата книга, направо ме срина! Изключително съм разочарована от стила на авторката, от начина на раказване и подреждане на сюжета - някакви си откъслечни разкази, които уж трябва да навържат историята на живота й. Ужасена съм от претенциите, които лъхат от почти всяко изречение. Дума, точка, дума, многоточие, напудрена метафора, край. Не ми харесва отношението й към света, живота и хората, нито това, че тя се смята за нещастна и погубена във всяка една ситуация, но и адски различна и уж възвишено преживява и описва емоциите и чувствата си. Все имаше едно усещане, че тя е много над нещата, а пък странно защо светът не се върти около нея. Объркан човек с екзистенциални и личностни проблеми, които сякаш не съответстваха на вързастта й.

Особено тъпо ми стана описанието на Русия и позицията й, които даже не беше сметнала да подкрепи с кой знае какви аргументи, които да съотвестват и обясняват категоричността й по темата.

Никак, ама никак не съм доволна от тази книга.

[Adelina · Rating 2 out of 5]

Много хубава първа част, посветена на детството. Разказано с малко тъга, малко ирония и добре дозирана носталгия. След такова детство очакваш, че във втората част ще срещнеш една умна жена, която е научила житейските си уроци. Обаче от маниерно написаните есета във втората част ти остава неприятно усещане, че авторката много държи да покаже колко сложна личност е. Объркани чувства, липса на посока и всичко това предадено с претенцията за възвишеност. Е, благодаря, обаче на мен не ми допадна!

[Maria Yankulova · Rating 3 out of 5]

Първата част ми беше безумно интересна, любопитна и вълнуваща. Втората обаче ме разочарова жестоко. Никаква връзка между двете. Едвам я дочетох и в крайна сметка ми остана горчивият вкус.

[Габриела Манова · Rating 5 out of 5]

Първите ми впечатления от Виргиния Захариева трябва да датират отпреди поне 4–5 години, когато случайно бях открила един неин фрагмент и си го бях скътала в една папка, където си отбелязвам разни хубави неща за четене, слушане, гледане и чувстване.
Финалните изречения на този фрагмент гласят: Отговорността като ключ на врата и оптимизми на тръгване...
Понякога зъбите ми тракат от тъга.

И това е чудесен надслов за 9 зайци – книга дневник, пропита с де що емоция изпитва търсещият и мислещият, и ненаситният човек (нарочно не казвам жена, въпреки че, що, писането на Виргиния Захариева е женско – и съм благодарна за това). 9 зайци ми е свръхлична – точно сега, тъкмо в този сезон, през този месец, напипва именно сегашните ми терзания – не за да ги излекува, не за да ми каже, че всичко ще е наред, дори не за да ме окуражи; просто е там, с мен, показва ми, че и други хора са се чувствали по същия начин. Понякога малко емпатия прави много нещо. нищо че болката си е само моя: […] болката е еднолична. Непоносима.

Абе, страшно близка книга. Нищо че мен и героинята ни дели четвърт век. Ала ако наистина се окажа права, че хората не се променят, значи всъщност разстоянието е фиктивно.

Първата част на книгата е свободна – вятър, прелистващ страниците на детството на малката Манда, чийто живот и тогава е пропусклив на терзания и болка, даже ги приветства. Вкусна първа част, отваря апетита (впрочем цялата книга го прави и то съвсем буквално – пълна е с рецепти). Прочетох какво ли не за втората част – че е кошмар, че е пълна с егоизъм и неспособност, че е отражение на слабохарактерен човек, но не съм съгласна. може би не съм достатъчно пораснала, а може би просто съм се примирила, че този човек, тази жена, с всичките ѝ тъпи, понякога безумни терзания, с всичките ѝ непремерени изказвания, с цялата егоцентричност, със страховете, които никога не ни напускат, страшно прилича на мен. Чета Виргиния и сякаш чета себе си: Сутрин си сърдита на себе си, следобед на целия свят...

Симпатизираме си една на друга – словом – и не мога да не я харесам. Тя знае. А така ми е нужно сега някой наистина, ама наистина да знае.

Да знае за любовта и за местата, които се налага да напуснем – понякога по свой избор, понякога без избор; понеже: Всяко нещо, в което толкова се принасяш, скоро се превръща в капан.

Да знае за липсата на местата, които сме напуснали, в които вече не можем да бъдем – включително и в себе си – Не чакам никого да се върне, да замине, да стои. Знам само, че се опитвам да стана и да вляза в себе си, но не мога. Там е толкова гадно, толкова е претъпкано, чуждо студено. Там също ме мразят. Някакви са се настанили и само съдят, мерят ме, искат да ме подстрижат, купуват ми тесни обувки. Не искат да пиша.

Да знае за необходимостта да изчезваш от време на време и за острата нужда от здравословно оставане насаме със себе си: Да съм абсолютно анонимна има своите предимства. Мога да се измисля каквато поискам. Непривързана съм. Сама. Налага се спешно да си стана баща и майка. Осиновявам се.
Да знае за нуждата понякога да не знаеш какво правиш, да си позволиш да си оставиш време: Един рошав човек в мен се надига – ще стоя тук, докато на Мен ми дойде какво ми се прави.

Да знае как се пише не в името на велика цел, не с някаква цел изобщо, а просто защото иначе не можеш, просто защото е единствената ти форма на съществуване: Страх ме е от живота. Писането ми помага да го понеса. Отваря пространство. Преливам по листа, за да освободя място. Докато пиша, забравям живеенето, гледам го отстрани, давам възможност на по-бавната част от мен да ме настигне.
[…]
Писането – повинност, с която се откупувам.

В крайна сметка В.З. (и аз де) не сме чак такива егоцентрички – просто искаме да си се върнем, себе си и празника и спонтанността. Простотата. Някъде изпаднаха по пътя.

Стани и влез в живота си – така си казвам. Нищо че те боли корем. Че си се разляла в това легло. Не можеш да го прекараш легнала, да се преструваш, че си в него, да се оплакваш, а той, за живота ти става дума, да се изсулва полека. Няма да те спасят никакви книги.

Ставам.

[Haileyyjk · Rating 5 out of 5]

“писането откъртва смисъл от самотата”

[Crystal Bonin · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was a Goodreads: First Reads win! I really loved the beginning, but this book went downhill quickly for me. This book begins in Bulgaria with the abusive childhood of Manda. This section of the book was captivating and helped me develop compassion for Manda...and then the book abruptly jumps to Manda in adulthood, philosophically and crudely rambling, traveling to countries in choppy, unrelated narratives. After the section about her childhood, this novel lacks plot. Manda's adult narratives are filled with self-doubt and seldom connect to the accounts of her childhood at the beginning of this book. At the end, there is little growth or change in Manda, just the same self-doubt disguised through meditation. I ended up hating her. Since I won this book, I really wanted to love it, but found it disappointing.

[Danilo Pavlica · Rating 3 out of 5]

Virginija Zaharijeva ispisuje jednu neobicnu knjigu koja u sebi, bas poput nekog od jela u njenim receptima, sadrzi razlicite sastojke: pricu o nevoljenosti u jednom siromasnom detinjstvu punom bola, o pisanju, ljudima, sebi kao zeni, svom unutrasnjem svetu, feminizmu, neophodnosti pisanja, drugim zemljama i prostorima, promisljanju svoje zenstvenosti, svoje senke i persone da se posluzim jungijanskom terminologijom.

Knjiga je puna fragmenata, na momente tesko citljiva, nejasna, fantazmagoricna - kao prisustvo necijoj psihoterapiji, ali onom delu koji bi bio najblizi testu asocijacija.

Odredjeni segmenti su odlicni, ali spisateljica na momente ume da bude pretenciozna, zbunjujuca, agresivno nejasna i okrenuta ka sebi (iako podrzavam tezu da pisanje jeste lek za samoizlecenje)

Ova knjiga jeste na neki nacin obracun sa sopstvom, posezanje za delom sebe u detinjim danima koji je oblikovao ovo sto smo danas, ali generalno utisak mi je da ostaje jedan nedovoljno jasan niz fragmenata koji ushicuju na momente, ali ih je cesce teze pratiti narocito u drugoj polovini knjige.

Feministicki aspekti knjige su po meni uspeli jer se fokusiraju na ono sto bi feminizam trebalo da bude - zenska samospoznaja i oslobodjenje, samo sto sam do kraja ostao u nedoumici koliko se Manda/Virginija zaista oslobodila.

Kraj daje nadu da mozda ipak jeste.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

Americans don't read anywhere near enough writing written outside the borders of the United States. There is a hell of a lot going on out there, perspectives and innovations, but many Americans aren't even aware of it. When we do step outside, it's almost always to the same old writers who've influenced generations of Americans before. Nothing new. This book is a great place to start changing that. How many Americans have even read a Bulgarian novel before? Much less, a good one? The Publishers Weekly quote on the back talks about mixing genres, but I'm more interested in the way that Zaharieva changes prose style with the changing emotional state of the narrator. The periodic inclusion of recipes is interesting as well. Just have a look. There is a lot of important work going on out there that you probably don't know anywhere near enough about.

[Адриана К. · Rating 2 out of 5]

Може би човек трябва да е в някакво специално състояние на духа, мислите и емоциите (?!), за да хареса и оцени тази книга... При мен не се получи.

[Ренета Кирова · Rating 3 out of 5]

Първата част за детството ми допадна, но бях неприятно изненадана, когато бабата я наби с коприва. Аз също съм имала детство на село, но баба ми никога не си е позволявала такъв произвол.
Втората част от книгата въобще не ми допадна.

[Sve · Rating 2 out of 5]

The book starts nice and turns into a midnight monster...

[RKanimalkingdom]

DNF pg 81

This had a very interesting premise and was hooking at first but had much flowery language to make sense. Also, there were recipes spread throughout that didn't add much to the story. In short, I got bored

[Георги Колев · Rating 1 out of 5]

Отблъскващо претенциозна. Поразително слаба. Книга без смисъл и значение.

[Laura · Rating 5 out of 5]

Already a best-seller in Europe, Nine Rabbits, the latest from Bulgarian author Virginia Zaharieva, is a remarkable, untraditional novel about a universal story: one woman’s quest to create – and maintain – her own identity.

The novel is told in two parts, the first taking place in 1960s Communist Bulgaria when the narrator, a precocious four-year-old named Manda, goes off to live with her grandmother while her recently-divorced mother works long hours, hoping to provide Manda with a better life. Despite frequent beatings at her grandmother’s hand, Manda manages to see both her grandmother and her mother not as cruel or neglectful, but simply as products of their own unfortunate circumstances.

Manda’s ability to see and appreciate the women in her life as multi-faceted serves her well in her adult life, which is explored in Part 2. Now in her 40s, Manda finds herself living the life her mother and grandmother dreamed of: she is a successful, working artist, not beholden to a man or an oppressive government. However, a debilitating case of writer's block shakes what Manda perceives to be the core of her identity (“If I don’t write, it’s like I’m not here. I don’t exist.”), sending her into a tailspin, as demonstrated in a particularly heartbreaking scene where Manda can’t muster the words to answer the simple question: “Who are you?”

Told through a series of beautifully written short chapters, Nine Rabbits is a moving tale of one woman’s struggle to identify not as one part of herself, but as a whole, complex being. While the novel certainly addresses some heavy topics, Zaharieva moves through each scene with the ease of an old friend sharing stories over a long, boozy dinner, making Nine Rabbits read more like a memoir than a novel, and making Manda seem less like a character and more like the fully-realized woman she strives to be.

I write weekly reviews for The Gazette. Read more at laurafarmerreviews.com

[Istros Books · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nine Rabbits tells two stories, that of a six-year-old girl, and of her grown-up self: Manda grows up on the Black Sea coast during the height of socialism in the 1960s, raised by her tyrannical grandmother along with her young aunts and uncles. While Grandma Nikula wages open and covert wars with life, Manda lives out the adventures of her childhood under the shadow of her absent grandfather.

Forty years later on, we find that same child has become a woman, now living in a democratic Bulgaria and racked by an identity crisis. Manda has swallowed up her tyrannical grandmother, turning that despotism against herself. In the heroine’s difficult process of awakening, every shattering of childhood matrices frees up space for spontaneity, creativity and love. For Manda, the world gradually transforms into a divine kitchen, where out of a mixture of characters, places, ingredients and situations she creates delicious dishes.
- See more at: http://istrosbooks.com/products/books...

This is a pregnant book in every sense of the word - full of spiritual insights and life tips as well as a totally separate book of recipes which can be followed in order to cook the delicious dishes which are scattered in the text.

[Diane Nichols · Rating 2 out of 5]

I received this book as part of Goods Reads Free Give Aways and actually had to read it twice before I could really give an honest review.

Set in 1960's Bulgaria during the height of the Communist regime the beginning of the novel shares the story of Manda and the cruelty she suffers at the hand of her abusive grandmother. I loved the writing as the author captures the delight in the colorful world of the gardens and the quiet solitude of the dark attics where Manda finds solace and enchantment.

As the novel moved forward 40 years to Mand's middle aged years in a newly democratic Bulgaria the story became as chaotic as her mental state and this is where the novel fell apart for me. I wanted to try and make sense of the story but ultimately the author tried to pack too many genre's in one story , including rural idyll, sexual exploration and feminist manifesto that it all became too messy. Ultimately the only good thing I can say about the second part of the novel is that it truly represented the chaos and desperation of a damaged life and a troubled mind.

[Barbara Lynn · Rating 3 out of 5]

The first part of Nine Rabbits is about a young child named Manda, and then then last part is about grown up Manda.

It seemed like this book was written by two completely different people. Young Manda was clearly written, interesting, and just wonderful to read. I could identify with her, I understood everything she said, I wanted to know more about her.

The adult Manda seemed evasive. Half the time I did not know what she was talking about, it was like a completely different person was writing the book. I did not know that the trip in Russia had ended because it never says anything about it ending or arriving back home. Then all of a sudden she was somewhere else. The story was evasive, unclear, and did not seem to go anywhere.

I am giving this book 3 stars because I really loved young Manda and wish there was more to her story.

I won this book on the Goodreads giveaway.

[Pauline Roberts · Rating 2 out of 5]

I won this book and wanted very much to feel empathy for Zaharieva and gain insights from her. She tells us that it was a catharsis for her to finally get the pain from her childhood out on paper, so for her, writing the first half was the easy part. Bravo to her for having done that!

Unfortunately, she hasn't "found herself" in her adult life, though it's clear she's been doing a lot of looking. Scenes she describes of her adulthood show her as a bit of an exhibitionist who hoped others would notice her and see the pain in her before she sat down for this writing catharsis.

I would have preferred a book that more fully fleshed out the characters she recalled from her childhood and then ended, with perhaps a second book on her adult life to be written some twenty years from now.

[Gitanjili · Rating 4 out of 5]

Хубава книжка. Много силно начало, след това РЯЗЪК, ама рязък завой към цинична, уязвена част, без особена връзка с текста за детството. Следват много на брой разпилени разказчета, някои не особено интригуващи, но някои... някои, които ме накараха да дам 4 от 5 звезди. Човешки и откровени, поне на мен са ми много близки. За мен си заслужава времето, прекарано с нея.

Бих хапнала пържени цветове на тиквичка :)

[Magdalena Todorinska · Rating 3 out of 5]

първата част на книгата заслужава повече звездички, но какво да се прави :)
нататък е точно като да четеш чужд дневник - продължаваш да прелистваш къде от клюкарски интерес, къде от разбиране и съпричастност, защото тази жена ти става близка, къде защото разпознаваш себе си, или защото откриваш проблясъци и красиви фрази, които ти носят краткотрайно вдъхновение. но като цяло си е мъка.

[Tina Doncheva · Rating 4 out of 5]

Забелязвам, че в съвременната българска проза, май предпочитам тази, написана от психотерапевти. Истинска, неподправена, и семпла история, разказана по същия начин. Давам 3.5 звезди, заради това, че на моменти се оприличавах или с героинята, или със случващото се около нея. И заради цитатите, свързани с писането, с които постоянно се съгласявах - т.е. "Докато пиша, аз се променям."

[Teya Diya · Rating 5 out of 5]

I wouldn`t even dare evaluate the book of my life.
Read it in Bulgarian a few years ago, it totally changed my life AND style. Still love it dearly, reading it in English is a further pleasure (thanks to the wonderful translator Mrs Angela Rodel.)

[Becky · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really enjoyable, the book starts off in more of a story mode and ends feeling more like journal entries. Kept my interest all the way through. I would definately recommend this book, nice quick read.

[Dimana · Rating 2 out of 5]

Оценката не е единица заради интересната първа част, в която се описва детството, изпълнено с пакости, щуротии и носещо духа на едно свидно за мен самата време. Но нататък книгата се превръща в някаква префърцунена логорея, неоправдана дори и с това, че авторът е психоаналитик!

[Jennifer Cain · Rating 5 out of 5]

A yummy roller coaster ride through the life of an amazing woman.

[Denitsa]

За първи път я четох на 20 години и нещо не я разбрах. Реших сега на 30 пак да видя заз какво става дума. Първата част е божествена. След тва...все едно някой друг я е писал. Трети път няма да я чета

[Thomas Hübner · Rating 4 out of 5]

http://www.mytwostotinki.com/?p=1310

The first part of Virginia Zaharieva's autobiographical novel Nine Rabbits consists of childhood memories of the narrator. Manda, as everyone calls her, grows up in Nesebar in socialist Bulgaria in a house at the Black Sea coast. The men in the big family are mostly or completely absent. Boris, the Grandfather, a good-natured and friendly man works most of its life abroad and comes home only during holidays for a few weeks. Even later when he gets older and is back in Bulgaria, he avoids to spend too much time at home - he doesn't get along well with his wife, Nikula. Manda's parents are divorced and her father lives hundreds of kilometers away in Sofia; also Manda's mother who works far away is most of the time not at home.

The big family is governed by Grandmother Nikula with a hard hand. Not only is she beating Manda frequently, she is even able to torture her for no apparent reason with needles. Only when she is cooking or baking she seems to become a different person who is more human and less rigid - maybe that's why Manda loves cooking so much; cooking seems to give her life (and also the novel) a structure even when things are getting otherwise messy and difficult to handle. Manda's favorite receipes are printed in the book and additionally collected in a small booklet that comes with the novel - the dishes are comparatively easy to prepare and I suppose very delicious.

Beside her mother, who tries to protect her when she is at home, and a few childhood friends, Manda finds support and consolation at a nun's monastery nearby. The nuns care for Manda's (physical and psychological) wounds after Grandma has exercised again one of her cruel needle tortures; as a result Grandmother, who is an old activist of the Communist Party gets the monastery closed by the authorities and the nuns dispersed all over the country.

Politics cast a long shadow over this part of the novel - Prague 1968 is anxiously witnessed via the radio transmissions by the summer guests from Czechoslovakia; we read about Manda's innocent friendship with a boy from the neighborhood; and finally her fate takes a turn to the better: her mother remarries and moves together with Manda to Sofia; later we learn of Grandfather's and Grandmother's death - they were divorced in old age.

The second part of the novel sets in decades later. Manda is now a 46-year old writer and therapist in Sofia. She has a son who is in the process to leave the house; a divorced husband (she was married for 13 years); a lover that is sixteen years younger than her; and she is in a serious crisis: writers block, panic attacks, the feeling that something has gone terribly wrong with her life.

While the first part of the novel is very much centered around the house in Nesebar where Manda spent a big part of her childhood, the second part involves changing places quite a lot.

We see Manda in Corfu; traveling with other writers through Europe by train; we see her having another panic attack in Moscow; her life in idyllic Kovachevitsa; her travel to Osaka; her yoga and other esoteric experiences with various groups that search for an alternative life style; we witness her at a performance of a writer colleague (Toma Markov) who reads her poems in a woman's dress while Manda is serving huge amounts of tomato soup to the audience ("Don't forget to bring your spoon!" was written on the invitation to the event); sometimes the second part of the novel gets a bit messy - just as the protagonist's life. But, without wanting to reveal too much, it all ends well for Manda.

This is a book full of energy; the protagonist struggles to getting over the unhappy childhood of hers and the fact that the men in her life were always disappearing or withdrawing themselves; and although fate seems to repeat itself again (her lover Christos becomes more distant by accepting more jobs as an actor that keep him away from Manda over longer periods; and also her beloved son is leaving home), Manda finally seems to accept herself and reinvents herself as a strong, independent woman.

This is also a feminist book, a book that shows the failure of many men to really attach themselves to their wives and families. But it is definitely not the book of a man-hater, but of a rather compassionate person.

There are also plenty of weird, unforgettable moments in the book; a sense for the absurd; and a real wit and humor on many pages. Zaharieva has something to tell us and she has all the technical means at her command to tell her story in an interesting, intelligent, even enticing way. I enjoyed this book therefore very much and can only recommend it to everyone who loves a good novel. As Dubravka Ugrešić puts it:

"What makes this book exceptionally pleasant is Zaharieva's vitality, her guiltless hunger for life, for every bit of it. It's a happy book about a happy personal life."

I read the English edition by Istros Books but compared it also with the original edition. The translation by Angela Rodel is excellent; unfortunately the English version frequently is alluding to the 1840s or 1850s, when in the original version it is referred to the Forties and Fifties (of the 20th century that is); that mistake is quite confusing especially for readers that are not very familiar with Eastern European history.

It is a real pity that all but one of the author's Chinese calligraphies have disappeared from the English version; I also much preferred the cover of the Bulgarian version to the cover of the Istros edition; my copy contained also an additional (double) set of pages. I don't want to sound petty, but I pay attention to such small details and it would be great if they could be changed in future editions. -

But these are very small criticisms. Istros is a great, courageous publisher with an excellent program. And English-speaking readers can be grateful that thanks to publishers like Istros, true gems like this one (and many others) are available to them.

[Jai Lau · Rating 2 out of 5]

There is not enough of a connect between the characters of Manda the child and Manda the adult. The first part of the book is written pretty well, the abuse inflicted upon her by her grandmother is subtle, being just as much mental as physical, and the perception of this abuse does come across as through a believable voice of a child. The second part of the book is a bit all-over-the-place. Adult Manda is pretty awful. She does not form proper relationships and hangs around with numerous, waste-of-space, literary types doing Tai Chi and calligraphy. It is quite amazing that a character so unsure of herself can still come across as so annoying. Surely, there is a story about her "finding herself" but seriously, there should be more effort to make the reader care about what happens to her. Oh, she has a son, an ex-husband, a current lover but they might as well not be there because of how self-involved the main character is. Disappointing.

[QQJJ · Rating 3 out of 5]

The book seems to be semi-autobiographical and is organized into short, (mostly) chronological vignettes. You never really know how much time has past between vignettes or which story threads will return when. I liked this book, especially the first part of the character as a child. The latter part of the book explored more of the existential crises, writer's block, and other mental health issues. I enjoyed this part less. Many interesting and troubling relationships with her family members as well as daily life in Communist (and post-Communist) Bulgaria are explored. Throughout, cooking and recipes relating to the memories and experiences play an integral, but are written in a very casual way, as if reading a smudged recipe card that has been passed down. I loved this touch, because it really allowed you to imagine the setting through traditional Bulgarian food (and I think you could even cook the recipes if you wanted).

[Svetlana Ivanova · Rating 2 out of 5]

Разочарование, особено след възхвалите, които й дават.Обещаващо начало, макар и фрагментирано едно детство като болезнена рана, зрялост, изпълнена с болка и след запознанство с по-младия й приятел, прави завой към неособено сполучлив и тенденциозен пътепис от типа" обичам -мразя".След това историята се разпада на есеистични размисли, поезия в проза, като от време на време се завръща разказвачката.Мисля, че тази книга е по-скоро част от терапевтичен процес, който все още не звучи като завършен, има много тъмнина и скрита болка.На мен обоче ми стана безинтересно в един момент, твърде много злободневни детайли се намесиха.Рецептите са опит вероятно да се придаде някаква нормалност в емоциите, приземяване.