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Misinterpretation
In New York City, an Albanian interpreter cannot help but become entangled in her clients' struggles, despite her husband's cautions. When she reluctantly agrees to work with Alfred, a Kosovar torture survivor, during his therapy sessions, his nightmares stir up her own buried memories; while an impulsive attempt to help a Kurdish poet leads to a risky encounter and a reckless plan.
As ill-fated decisions stack up, jeopardising the nameless narrator's marriage and mental health, she takes a spontaneous trip to reunite with her mother in Albania, where her life in the United States is put into stark relief. When she returns to face the consequences of her actions, she must question what is real and what is not.
Ruminative and propulsive, Misinterpretation interrogates the darker legacies of family and country, and the boundary between compassion and self-preservation.
As ill-fated decisions stack up, jeopardising the nameless narrator's marriage and mental health, she takes a spontaneous trip to reunite with her mother in Albania, where her life in the United States is put into stark relief. When she returns to face the consequences of her actions, she must question what is real and what is not.
Ruminative and propulsive, Misinterpretation interrogates the darker legacies of family and country, and the boundary between compassion and self-preservation.
299 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 3, 2024
282 people are currently reading
10688 people want to read
About the author
Ledia Xhoga
1 book77 followersLedia Xhoga (pronounced Joga) is a fiction writer and playwright. She was born and raised in Tirana, Albania and currently lives in Brooklyn. She is the author of Misinterpretation published by Tin House Books.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 557 reviews
September 2, 2025
Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2025 - Book 1/13 and probably the only one i will read until the shortlist is announced
3.5*
Waiting to have enough time to write a proper review of this novel and Booker longlistee, has let me nowhere. Almost a month after I finished, and still haven’t found that time. So, here is the short version.
I liked Misinterpretation more than I thought I did when I closed the last page, or more accurately, I pressed stop on the audiobook. What do I mean, you might wonder? I find myself still thinking about this book , about what the author wanted to say, if she was successful or not, if the characters were believable, why did she end it the way she did etc. Even if I wasn’t totally happy with the book, the fact that I am still thinking about it means that it had more meaning in my reading life than others book. I usually read one book and forget about all about it. On to the next one. It is not the case here , so this is why I am bumping my rating to 4*.
The plot. It’s about an Albanian interpreter who has a very intense urge to help people, whether they want it or not. Most of the time they don’t, but she does it anyway. This impulsion leads to very crazy and stupid decisions (can’t call them otherwise), which puts in everyone in danger (her, the people she wants to protect, her relationship, her sanity). She gets too personal with the people she interprets for and that gets her in trouble as well.
I don’t know, the book might try to be a novel of identity and the errors we make when we assume things without discussing them properly. The title definitely hints at that. It delivered partially on that front. However, I think it was more of a character study of sorts.
The writing is nothing special, detached, which made me uncomfortable, as important things were happening and the MC was very laid back in her narration. It was an easy listen, but it somehow made me not to want to read any more of the longlist. I might read the shortlist, but I am not sure. We’ll see. Oh well, it seems I wrote more than I thought I would.
3.5*
Waiting to have enough time to write a proper review of this novel and Booker longlistee, has let me nowhere. Almost a month after I finished, and still haven’t found that time. So, here is the short version.
I liked Misinterpretation more than I thought I did when I closed the last page, or more accurately, I pressed stop on the audiobook. What do I mean, you might wonder? I find myself still thinking about this book , about what the author wanted to say, if she was successful or not, if the characters were believable, why did she end it the way she did etc. Even if I wasn’t totally happy with the book, the fact that I am still thinking about it means that it had more meaning in my reading life than others book. I usually read one book and forget about all about it. On to the next one. It is not the case here , so this is why I am bumping my rating to 4*.
The plot. It’s about an Albanian interpreter who has a very intense urge to help people, whether they want it or not. Most of the time they don’t, but she does it anyway. This impulsion leads to very crazy and stupid decisions (can’t call them otherwise), which puts in everyone in danger (her, the people she wants to protect, her relationship, her sanity). She gets too personal with the people she interprets for and that gets her in trouble as well.
I don’t know, the book might try to be a novel of identity and the errors we make when we assume things without discussing them properly. The title definitely hints at that. It delivered partially on that front. However, I think it was more of a character study of sorts.
The writing is nothing special, detached, which made me uncomfortable, as important things were happening and the MC was very laid back in her narration. It was an easy listen, but it somehow made me not to want to read any more of the longlist. I might read the shortlist, but I am not sure. We’ll see. Oh well, it seems I wrote more than I thought I would.
August 1, 2025
Readable, but also totally forgettable. Despite some strong themes about immigration, domestic violence, and harassment, the tone is casual. That’s a choice I respect, especially in this political environment. However, I couldn't be sure whether this casualness isn't actually randomness. It is an unconvincing choice from this year's Booker, at least for me.
August 20, 2025
Initially propulsive, focusing on uncomfortable domestic dynamics, but tapering into quite tiring, where the main character just seemingly doing the most non-logical action at every turn
She is attempting to help but only makes things worse
This debut novel has a lot of promise and interesting themes around migration, marriage dynamics, a surplus of empathy and impossibility to communicate with loved ones. However all the relationships our unnamed interpreter from Albania has, which the novel cycles through, feel like a chore. In my view they are highly instrumental, like literally none of any of the relationships she has seem to be drama free, which probably says a lot about the person the protagonist is suppose to be.
The main character is an Albanian married interpreter in New York. Many of her clients are torture victims. Her husband Billy a vegetarian film professor at NYU, the narrative seems set after the first election of Trump. Initially there seems to be interesting, uncomfortable domestic dynamics going on in the life of the narrator, she seems to be in a dysfunctional marriage much. However much of the dysfunction comes from how our main character likes to do the most non-logical action at every turn, or chooses not communicate for the most inane reasons, which already early in the narrative starts to get quite old and tiresome. As she thinks herself: She is attempting to help but only makes things worse.
Near the end of the book I was actually rooting for her husband to leave her and I felt similar to one of the characters responding to the main character: ‘What am I supposed to do with that?’
She at times seems on the brink of more self awareness: Repercussions, to me, were often an afterthought. But doesn't follow through, making me think, yes and this is why you are incredibly annoying.
Lea Ypi her work give much more insight in Albania to be fair, and while this debut novel was the winner of the New York City Book Award for outstanding debut author, Finalist for the Center For Fiction First Novel Prize and now Booker prize long listed, I felt the resolution to be a bit sweet, yet hopeful. Summarise, after 20% the Misinterpretation started to irritate me a bit, and for now this is one of the weakest of the Booker Prize 2025 longlisted books I read so far.
Quotes:
His face seemed stuck in between expressions. It reminded me of an unfinished Rubik’s Cube we kept around the house, which I could never resist trying to solve.
His face was an acquired taste, and I was getting used to it.
Are you familiar with compassion fatigue? Inappropriate reactions, detachment from social connections, mood swings – that sort of thing.
‘I had this dream the other night,’ he continued. He spoke slowly while fixing me with his gaze. ‘We were on a boat and the shore was suddenly in view. But you were not looking at the shore; you were looking back. Maybe you wanted to be on a different boat or something, and I was thinking, in my dream I was thinking, that we might both be happier if that happened.’
Happiness looks small in your hands until you let it go and then you learn …
There are times when what you don’t want to happen does, all at once, irreversibly.
From my kitchen in Brooklyn, those memories appeared fragmented, like a damaged film reel. Had they really happened? Was my current situation helping to embellish them?
‘Ours is a love story also,’ I blurted. ‘I think so.’
She is attempting to help but only makes things worse
This debut novel has a lot of promise and interesting themes around migration, marriage dynamics, a surplus of empathy and impossibility to communicate with loved ones. However all the relationships our unnamed interpreter from Albania has, which the novel cycles through, feel like a chore. In my view they are highly instrumental, like literally none of any of the relationships she has seem to be drama free, which probably says a lot about the person the protagonist is suppose to be.
The main character is an Albanian married interpreter in New York. Many of her clients are torture victims. Her husband Billy a vegetarian film professor at NYU, the narrative seems set after the first election of Trump. Initially there seems to be interesting, uncomfortable domestic dynamics going on in the life of the narrator, she seems to be in a dysfunctional marriage much. However much of the dysfunction comes from how our main character likes to do the most non-logical action at every turn, or chooses not communicate for the most inane reasons, which already early in the narrative starts to get quite old and tiresome. As she thinks herself: She is attempting to help but only makes things worse.
Near the end of the book I was actually rooting for her husband to leave her and I felt similar to one of the characters responding to the main character: ‘What am I supposed to do with that?’
She at times seems on the brink of more self awareness: Repercussions, to me, were often an afterthought. But doesn't follow through, making me think, yes and this is why you are incredibly annoying.
Lea Ypi her work give much more insight in Albania to be fair, and while this debut novel was the winner of the New York City Book Award for outstanding debut author, Finalist for the Center For Fiction First Novel Prize and now Booker prize long listed, I felt the resolution to be a bit sweet, yet hopeful. Summarise, after 20% the Misinterpretation started to irritate me a bit, and for now this is one of the weakest of the Booker Prize 2025 longlisted books I read so far.
Quotes:
His face seemed stuck in between expressions. It reminded me of an unfinished Rubik’s Cube we kept around the house, which I could never resist trying to solve.
His face was an acquired taste, and I was getting used to it.
Are you familiar with compassion fatigue? Inappropriate reactions, detachment from social connections, mood swings – that sort of thing.
‘I had this dream the other night,’ he continued. He spoke slowly while fixing me with his gaze. ‘We were on a boat and the shore was suddenly in view. But you were not looking at the shore; you were looking back. Maybe you wanted to be on a different boat or something, and I was thinking, in my dream I was thinking, that we might both be happier if that happened.’
Happiness looks small in your hands until you let it go and then you learn …
There are times when what you don’t want to happen does, all at once, irreversibly.
From my kitchen in Brooklyn, those memories appeared fragmented, like a damaged film reel. Had they really happened? Was my current situation helping to embellish them?
‘Ours is a love story also,’ I blurted. ‘I think so.’
August 11, 2025
Every year there are a few obscure books thrust into the critical spotlight via a Booker Prize longlisting; novels which, more often than not, just as quickly wither under the scrutiny such attention invites. Misinterpretation is one of those works.
Filled with the potential that can arise when great ideas drive plot, this debut is, instead, one long disappointment: amateurish, tedious, and poorly-executed. There are simply too many ideas awkwardly shoehorned into the narrative. And those are patched together somewhat haphazardly. Some are belabored through frequent reiteration and some are abandoned by the author almost as soon as they are introduced. It's quite a muddle.
The writing itself fails to meet the Booker Prize's own stated aim: "...to celebrate and promote the best in contemporary fiction, specifically works written in English."
Here are a few choice bits that stopped me short:
He grimaced, revealing a gap between his teeth where his left canine used to be. It was kind of touching, like spotting the demolished wall of a house.
Ah, yes. There’s nothing more touching than spotting the demolished wall of a house.
Women in satin opera gloves kept reaching for deviled eggs and tomato sandwiches.
Because who doesn’t want to attend a soiree looking like you cleaned the toilet in your satin opera gloves?
The Triplets of Bronxville were about to start a duet with Frank Sinatra…
Two’s company. Three’s a crowd. Four’s a duet!
Alma was used to the chaos around her. Problems washed over her, never leaving behind that residue of cruelty that flickered in most people with the passing of years.
Really? Most people, with the passing of years, have an increased cruelty flickering within them?
The whole affair is further undermined by startling errors of grammar and syntax. The book’s editor at Tin House, Alyssa Ogi, is identified in the Acknowledgements section as one of the “North Stars in the publishing wilderness.” On the basis of this product, Xhoga would have fared better with an astrolabe.
Some of the textual inaccuracies likely escape notice if one encounters this via audiobook format, but I found them glaring on the printed page:
The acacia abounded the city.
The hotel comprised several small cottages.
“chaise lounge” (this one might get a pass if only because the Americanization of the French has worn down most linguists)
“sneaky suspicion”
1.5 stars, because I have a sneaking suspicion it is all my own flickering residue of cruelty can muster.
Filled with the potential that can arise when great ideas drive plot, this debut is, instead, one long disappointment: amateurish, tedious, and poorly-executed. There are simply too many ideas awkwardly shoehorned into the narrative. And those are patched together somewhat haphazardly. Some are belabored through frequent reiteration and some are abandoned by the author almost as soon as they are introduced. It's quite a muddle.
The writing itself fails to meet the Booker Prize's own stated aim: "...to celebrate and promote the best in contemporary fiction, specifically works written in English."
Here are a few choice bits that stopped me short:
He grimaced, revealing a gap between his teeth where his left canine used to be. It was kind of touching, like spotting the demolished wall of a house.
Ah, yes. There’s nothing more touching than spotting the demolished wall of a house.
Women in satin opera gloves kept reaching for deviled eggs and tomato sandwiches.
Because who doesn’t want to attend a soiree looking like you cleaned the toilet in your satin opera gloves?
The Triplets of Bronxville were about to start a duet with Frank Sinatra…
Two’s company. Three’s a crowd. Four’s a duet!
Alma was used to the chaos around her. Problems washed over her, never leaving behind that residue of cruelty that flickered in most people with the passing of years.
Really? Most people, with the passing of years, have an increased cruelty flickering within them?
The whole affair is further undermined by startling errors of grammar and syntax. The book’s editor at Tin House, Alyssa Ogi, is identified in the Acknowledgements section as one of the “North Stars in the publishing wilderness.” On the basis of this product, Xhoga would have fared better with an astrolabe.
Some of the textual inaccuracies likely escape notice if one encounters this via audiobook format, but I found them glaring on the printed page:
The acacia abounded the city.
The hotel comprised several small cottages.
“chaise lounge” (this one might get a pass if only because the Americanization of the French has worn down most linguists)
“sneaky suspicion”
1.5 stars, because I have a sneaking suspicion it is all my own flickering residue of cruelty can muster.
October 13, 2024
I'll be effusive elsewhere, re: what it feels like to finally see Albanians self-represented in the literary landscape, but man, it feels so powerful. It's about time. The people sound and feel real, which to someone who's been waiting her entire life to see her community in fiction, is just...I don't know. I can finally can point others to something that can make them understand my context.
OK, OK, I ought to talk about the novel as a novel instead of a bound paper totem for an Albanian American reader and writer. I needed to indulge a bit. Misinterpretation moves in unexpected ways, but it doesn't rely on surprise or the unexpected to keep you hooked. It's more that the crux of it can feel slippery, like it's all just in your peripheral vision (like Rakan himself). It's nervy, suspenseful without sacrificing its emotional core, and will leave you feeling a little unmoored.
OK, OK, I ought to talk about the novel as a novel instead of a bound paper totem for an Albanian American reader and writer. I needed to indulge a bit. Misinterpretation moves in unexpected ways, but it doesn't rely on surprise or the unexpected to keep you hooked. It's more that the crux of it can feel slippery, like it's all just in your peripheral vision (like Rakan himself). It's nervy, suspenseful without sacrificing its emotional core, and will leave you feeling a little unmoored.
August 6, 2025
Misinterpretation is a novel that wants to say something about language, about love, about the way we live beside one another without truly hearing each other. It wants to explore displacement, the ways women make themselves small in service of others, and the slow break down of communication in various types of relationships. These are interesting subjects and themes, but the novel fails to explore them with any meaningful depth.
The narrator is an Albanian interpreter who understands, in theory, the slipperiness of language, how easy it is to lose or misconstrue meaning, not only across languages but even between people who speak the same one. Despite her profession, this narrator never truly listens: not to her clients, not to her estranged mother, and certainly not to her husband. She’s the kind of person who believes she’s listening carefully when, in fact, she’s just waiting to speak; someone who fails to hear the most obvious things, even when they’re shouted directly into her ear. She is a narcissist in a martyr’s costume, and I found it exhausting to read from her perspective.
There’s a particularly compelling thread about what it means to live in two countries at once, how the immigrant experience is often marked by a slow, shifting awareness that you no longer belong fully anywhere. That part rang true. There’s a line about how one life always seems like the real one and the other like a memory, until they trade places again. I wish there had been more of that kind of clarity throughout the novel.
What disappointed me most was the absence of subtlety in the characterizations. The narrator can’t seem to stop herself from creating unnecessary problems, walking into uncomfortable or even dangerous situations as though drawn to them. She believes she’s helping others, but often she’s simply feeding a need to be seen as helpful. At times, her self-delusion is interesting, but the narrative is so unfocused that her character comes across as cartoonish and contrived.
Misinterpretation is a novel that never sat still long enough to uncover what it was really trying to say. The incoherent narrative, the quality of the writing (much of the story is told through shockingly bad dialogue), and the lack of subtlety and depth in the characters made this a very tough read for me. The structure collapses under its own weight; it’s a story that wants to be many things at once, but accomplishes none of them successfully.
The narrator is an Albanian interpreter who understands, in theory, the slipperiness of language, how easy it is to lose or misconstrue meaning, not only across languages but even between people who speak the same one. Despite her profession, this narrator never truly listens: not to her clients, not to her estranged mother, and certainly not to her husband. She’s the kind of person who believes she’s listening carefully when, in fact, she’s just waiting to speak; someone who fails to hear the most obvious things, even when they’re shouted directly into her ear. She is a narcissist in a martyr’s costume, and I found it exhausting to read from her perspective.
There’s a particularly compelling thread about what it means to live in two countries at once, how the immigrant experience is often marked by a slow, shifting awareness that you no longer belong fully anywhere. That part rang true. There’s a line about how one life always seems like the real one and the other like a memory, until they trade places again. I wish there had been more of that kind of clarity throughout the novel.
What disappointed me most was the absence of subtlety in the characterizations. The narrator can’t seem to stop herself from creating unnecessary problems, walking into uncomfortable or even dangerous situations as though drawn to them. She believes she’s helping others, but often she’s simply feeding a need to be seen as helpful. At times, her self-delusion is interesting, but the narrative is so unfocused that her character comes across as cartoonish and contrived.
Misinterpretation is a novel that never sat still long enough to uncover what it was really trying to say. The incoherent narrative, the quality of the writing (much of the story is told through shockingly bad dialogue), and the lack of subtlety and depth in the characters made this a very tough read for me. The structure collapses under its own weight; it’s a story that wants to be many things at once, but accomplishes none of them successfully.
July 27, 2025
This book follows an unnamed Albanian interpreter living in New York City. She meets Alfred, an Albanian Kosovar torture survivor, and accompanies him to the dentist, then agrees to translate for him in his therapy sessions. She soon becomes entangled in Alfred’s personal life. She also decides to confront a man who is stalking one of her female clients. She is attempting to help but only makes things worse. These situations lead to marital troubles. Her husband then leaves for a six-month stint on a paid art project in Europe, and she takes the time to visit her mother in Albania. This trip provides clues as to why she tends to get overly involved with her clients. I very much enjoyed the first two-thirds. The setup and the topic are intriguing, but once the couple returns from their European trips, it becomes slow and frustrating. There are way too many dreams and visions for my taste, especially when none of them come into play in any meaningful way. I got impatient with the last third, and the ending just fizzles out.
September 2, 2025
While the writing itself had an engaging quality, the book as a whole was one big miss for me. As soon as I finished, I returned to the beginning to skim the initial third to see if maybe I just missed something.
I didn't.
There's really no clear purpose to this novel. Is it supposed to be suspenseful? Entertaining? Enlightening? Is it teaching us about another culture? About human relationships? It's none of these things.
The protagonist mostly seems out of her mind in the sense she opens her home and her life in unfathomable ways that threaten her marriage. She makes a multitude of bad decisions making it hard to root for her. I felt more empathy for her long suffering husband.
There were enough teasers to keep me reading, but on the whole, it's an unsatisfying story told in a way that makes it seem more literary than it really is. Meh. It seemed pointless.
On a more positive note, glad to see Albania to be referenced as I am pretty sure I have never read a book set in Albania or with Albanian characters. Also, this type of book is normally something I would love - - a book where the reader has to really think about what's going on - - but now I see how other readers find these books frustrating. If you can't make linkages in your mind that make the plot work and make sense, then it just feels like you wasted your time.
I didn't.
There's really no clear purpose to this novel. Is it supposed to be suspenseful? Entertaining? Enlightening? Is it teaching us about another culture? About human relationships? It's none of these things.
The protagonist mostly seems out of her mind in the sense she opens her home and her life in unfathomable ways that threaten her marriage. She makes a multitude of bad decisions making it hard to root for her. I felt more empathy for her long suffering husband.
There were enough teasers to keep me reading, but on the whole, it's an unsatisfying story told in a way that makes it seem more literary than it really is. Meh. It seemed pointless.
On a more positive note, glad to see Albania to be referenced as I am pretty sure I have never read a book set in Albania or with Albanian characters. Also, this type of book is normally something I would love - - a book where the reader has to really think about what's going on - - but now I see how other readers find these books frustrating. If you can't make linkages in your mind that make the plot work and make sense, then it just feels like you wasted your time.
Read
August 11, 2025This book was my "impulsive purchase" a few months ago. After reading Lea Ypi's fascinating memoir Free: A Child and a Country at the End of History I've become interested in all things "Albanian". Especially I was interested in further subjective views on the country's transition from the most secretive "communist" regime into a democracy and its people integration into the global world. For this purpose, it would be of course better to read a non-fiction. But sometimes novels could deliver more interesting unexpected angles.
Another reason was the title and the description. The main protagonist is an interpreter working in New York with the difficult cases from her diaspora. For some reason I expected some intellectual mediation of impossibility of translating, understanding different people's mind, deeper subjectivity of our inner experience etc. And I love this type of "plotless", rambling novels focused on psychology and language.
My two previous paragraphs make me sound like I've spent days analysing my motivation and preparing a spreadsheet analysis whether to buy this book. In reality, it was nothing of a sort. It was one more spontaneous act I've done without thinking. I've brought the book home, put in on a shelf and forgotten about it being distracted by other reading opportunities. But a few weeks ago it was nominated on the prestigious Booker prize. And I've decided: "now or never".
It has partly delivered on the first front: there were some interesting observations about local's perceptions of Albania's transition and "the old days". There was also a representation of a school girl who did not seem to care that much about communism and didn't mind to skip a school for cinema from time to time. It was rather refreshing to know compared to Ypi's precocious and extremely conscientious young self. There were also a few interesting scenes set in Albania that gave me some local colours and introduction to believable people. However some of those were borderline tourist guide's snippets.
But my expectations of intellectual mediation was totally wrong. The novel is a glorified chick-lit romp. Not a bad one at that with unreliable main protagonist, a plot, good sense of humour, comic and tragic misunderstandings, cultural differences and some romance. I've read it quickly and it was good while it lasted even if it played a bit towards stereotypes of a 'do-gooder', a bit naive and a bit fed up American husband and a bunch of immigrants that are sympathetic but a bit rogue. The novel also raised an interesting question to which extent and at which price one can solve someone's else problems and where that illusive border between a community and personal life has to be drawn.
So it is not a bad book long hot summer days and one does not need to invest a big effort in the process. But I doubt it would have a lasting impact on me.
Another reason was the title and the description. The main protagonist is an interpreter working in New York with the difficult cases from her diaspora. For some reason I expected some intellectual mediation of impossibility of translating, understanding different people's mind, deeper subjectivity of our inner experience etc. And I love this type of "plotless", rambling novels focused on psychology and language.
My two previous paragraphs make me sound like I've spent days analysing my motivation and preparing a spreadsheet analysis whether to buy this book. In reality, it was nothing of a sort. It was one more spontaneous act I've done without thinking. I've brought the book home, put in on a shelf and forgotten about it being distracted by other reading opportunities. But a few weeks ago it was nominated on the prestigious Booker prize. And I've decided: "now or never".
It has partly delivered on the first front: there were some interesting observations about local's perceptions of Albania's transition and "the old days". There was also a representation of a school girl who did not seem to care that much about communism and didn't mind to skip a school for cinema from time to time. It was rather refreshing to know compared to Ypi's precocious and extremely conscientious young self. There were also a few interesting scenes set in Albania that gave me some local colours and introduction to believable people. However some of those were borderline tourist guide's snippets.
But my expectations of intellectual mediation was totally wrong. The novel is a glorified chick-lit romp. Not a bad one at that with unreliable main protagonist, a plot, good sense of humour, comic and tragic misunderstandings, cultural differences and some romance. I've read it quickly and it was good while it lasted even if it played a bit towards stereotypes of a 'do-gooder', a bit naive and a bit fed up American husband and a bunch of immigrants that are sympathetic but a bit rogue. The novel also raised an interesting question to which extent and at which price one can solve someone's else problems and where that illusive border between a community and personal life has to be drawn.
So it is not a bad book long hot summer days and one does not need to invest a big effort in the process. But I doubt it would have a lasting impact on me.
September 23, 2025
***Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2025***
”Reality is subject to interpretation.”
Misinterpretation is both a clever and apt title for this novel. Our unnamed narrator acts as an interpreter for the Albanian diaspora in New York.
Her professional interest in them and her need to go the extra mile causes mixed messaging. Is she misinterpreting what her role is, and her feelings towards her own life?
We never find out the reason she left her homeland behind, though it's hinted at.
”Among all types of pain, physical pain was the easiest to forget.”
Set in New York, we get a wonderful sense of the neighbourhood she lives in with her American husband Billy.
As she becomes more enmeshed in a quasi relationship with one of her male clients, and opens her home to another escaping an abusive marriage, her own relationship with Billy becomes estranged to the point where he leaves and returns several times.
Her emotional and mental wellness suffers, and it's interesting to ponder on how reliable a narrator she is.
”The average human ear could distinguish over a thousand differences in tone..”
There are a few twists and turns and moments of suspense. Can you ever truly leave the past behind, or do you always carry a piece of it with you?
A wonderful story about identity, resilience and home.
It's interesting to me that while the interpreter in Katie Kitamura's book Intimacies was detached from her life as if viewing it through a camera lens, the one here is completely immersed in both hers as well as those she interprets for, to the point where she soaks up all of their hurts and bruises, burdening her.
Book 6 of my Booker Prize odyssey.
I enjoyed this so very much and sincerely hope it makes the shortlist being announced shortly. It has so much to say. Definitely one of those books I'll carry around with me.
”Reality is subject to interpretation.”
Misinterpretation is both a clever and apt title for this novel. Our unnamed narrator acts as an interpreter for the Albanian diaspora in New York.
Her professional interest in them and her need to go the extra mile causes mixed messaging. Is she misinterpreting what her role is, and her feelings towards her own life?
We never find out the reason she left her homeland behind, though it's hinted at.
”Among all types of pain, physical pain was the easiest to forget.”
Set in New York, we get a wonderful sense of the neighbourhood she lives in with her American husband Billy.
As she becomes more enmeshed in a quasi relationship with one of her male clients, and opens her home to another escaping an abusive marriage, her own relationship with Billy becomes estranged to the point where he leaves and returns several times.
Her emotional and mental wellness suffers, and it's interesting to ponder on how reliable a narrator she is.
”The average human ear could distinguish over a thousand differences in tone..”
There are a few twists and turns and moments of suspense. Can you ever truly leave the past behind, or do you always carry a piece of it with you?
A wonderful story about identity, resilience and home.
It's interesting to me that while the interpreter in Katie Kitamura's book Intimacies was detached from her life as if viewing it through a camera lens, the one here is completely immersed in both hers as well as those she interprets for, to the point where she soaks up all of their hurts and bruises, burdening her.
Book 6 of my Booker Prize odyssey.
I enjoyed this so very much and sincerely hope it makes the shortlist being announced shortly. It has so much to say. Definitely one of those books I'll carry around with me.
August 3, 2025
I really struggled with this novel, and if it hadn't been nominated for the Booker Prize, I might not have finished it.
This came as a surprise to me, because, on the surface, the plot sounded intriguing, and I enjoyed the first few pages. The story follows a translator in New York who meets with a client who needs to go to the dentist and then asks her to interpret at his therapy sessions. He is young and awaiting the birth of his child, but he is plagued by mental health issues. We later understand that he sees monsters and green dogs and hears voices.
Our translator is passive to the point of weirdness. I actually expected some kind of grand reveal, perhaps a spy story. However, it transpires that she is simply very compassionate and naive, and unable to communicate with the world around her. Her relationship with her husband is especially fraught. She also tries to save a Kurdish woman who may be being stalked, and everything escalates.
My main problem with this novel is the protagonist, whom I just don't understand. The book wants me to feel a lot and be invested, but I just felt like I was watching someone taking themselves far too seriously, digging themselves into an ever deeper hole and creating unnecessary problems. I think Ledia Xhoga wanted us to understand something about the protagonist and her relationship, but I just found it annoying and boring. Maybe it's in the title: It felt like one of those stories that only exist because no one is talking to each other and the most stupid missunderstandings follow.
The second issue is that all the other characters felt one-dimensional and were created solely to fit into the interpreter's narrative. Perhaps this is intended to reflect her perspective, but I really had to force myself to continue reading. While I appreciate the attempt to leave much unsaid, I found what was hidden there just not interesting enough to justify all the fuss.
I am glad to see Albanian representation, and I do like the concept of the novel. The prose was also fine if a bit distanced, but it made me expect something more uncanny, something th more than what the novel delivered. It's not a horrible offering and has interesting parts, but it's not a contender for my short list.
This came as a surprise to me, because, on the surface, the plot sounded intriguing, and I enjoyed the first few pages. The story follows a translator in New York who meets with a client who needs to go to the dentist and then asks her to interpret at his therapy sessions. He is young and awaiting the birth of his child, but he is plagued by mental health issues. We later understand that he sees monsters and green dogs and hears voices.
Our translator is passive to the point of weirdness. I actually expected some kind of grand reveal, perhaps a spy story. However, it transpires that she is simply very compassionate and naive, and unable to communicate with the world around her. Her relationship with her husband is especially fraught. She also tries to save a Kurdish woman who may be being stalked, and everything escalates.
My main problem with this novel is the protagonist, whom I just don't understand. The book wants me to feel a lot and be invested, but I just felt like I was watching someone taking themselves far too seriously, digging themselves into an ever deeper hole and creating unnecessary problems. I think Ledia Xhoga wanted us to understand something about the protagonist and her relationship, but I just found it annoying and boring. Maybe it's in the title: It felt like one of those stories that only exist because no one is talking to each other and the most stupid missunderstandings follow.
The second issue is that all the other characters felt one-dimensional and were created solely to fit into the interpreter's narrative. Perhaps this is intended to reflect her perspective, but I really had to force myself to continue reading. While I appreciate the attempt to leave much unsaid, I found what was hidden there just not interesting enough to justify all the fuss.
I am glad to see Albanian representation, and I do like the concept of the novel. The prose was also fine if a bit distanced, but it made me expect something more uncanny, something th more than what the novel delivered. It's not a horrible offering and has interesting parts, but it's not a contender for my short list.
September 12, 2025
kind of a fever dream-esque book with engaging writing, but it feels like a novel that isn’t quite sure what it’s trying to do. i think it would’ve worked well as a short story, trimming some characters and focusing more on the narrator’s relationship with her client alfred.
August 13, 2025
Reader, I did not like it. Misinterpretation started, not strongly, but promisingly for me. It begins with some ethically complex situations, and explores some interesting challenges or dilemmas relating to translation and cultural dislocation. Unfortunately, I found the obscurity to the narrative as it progressed hindered my engagement and enjoyment of the novel. The protagonists relationships were all so problematic, and she seems to lurch from one illogical choice to another. I love reading about fallible characters here, but I found this trajectory frustrating in this context, because my inability to comprehend any narrative cohesion meant I couldn't see or consider why the protagonist might be acting this way. 2 stars for the interesting ideas that were fully developed for me.
August 20, 2025
3.5, rounded down.
From the mostly vitriolic reviews from many of my GR chums, I fully expected to 'hate read' this. On the one hand, I would NEVER have picked it up, had it not made the Booker longlist - and on the 2nd hand, it has little justification for making it on such - being much more a genre novel than a legit piece of literary fiction (shades of 2018's controversial Snap!). Still, on the other hand (wait, I have three hands?!) ... sue me, I really enjoyed it! :O!
Sure there are 'issues' - a few too many subplots; serviceable, but rarely stellar prose; Billy never made much sense to me as a character and his relationship with our unnamed narrator remains a bit of an enigma; and a third act that drags a bit and could have used some judicious pruning.
But I was NEVER bored, as I have been with several of this year's nominees (looking at you Flesh and The Rest of Our Lives!); ALL of the characters, even minor ones, are sharply defined and individualistic; the story and themes are compelling; it's told in an interesting fashion ... and I raced through it in two days.
That said I doubt it has a ghost of a chance of making the shortlist and zero chance of winning. I strongly suspect this was championed by Booker judge Kiley Reid, since it is very similar in tone and style to her own Booker nominated Such a Fun Age - and I had the exact same conundrum rating that one as well (i.e., do I rate it as a Booker nominee, or simply as a book? I tried to land between those two poles).
Finally, just as I wish Ripeness had been chosen over the similar Love Forms, I REALLY wish that Mothers and Sons, which tackles similar territory, had made it onto the longlist over this. Sigh.
From the mostly vitriolic reviews from many of my GR chums, I fully expected to 'hate read' this. On the one hand, I would NEVER have picked it up, had it not made the Booker longlist - and on the 2nd hand, it has little justification for making it on such - being much more a genre novel than a legit piece of literary fiction (shades of 2018's controversial Snap!). Still, on the other hand (wait, I have three hands?!) ... sue me, I really enjoyed it! :O!
Sure there are 'issues' - a few too many subplots; serviceable, but rarely stellar prose; Billy never made much sense to me as a character and his relationship with our unnamed narrator remains a bit of an enigma; and a third act that drags a bit and could have used some judicious pruning.
But I was NEVER bored, as I have been with several of this year's nominees (looking at you Flesh and The Rest of Our Lives!); ALL of the characters, even minor ones, are sharply defined and individualistic; the story and themes are compelling; it's told in an interesting fashion ... and I raced through it in two days.
That said I doubt it has a ghost of a chance of making the shortlist and zero chance of winning. I strongly suspect this was championed by Booker judge Kiley Reid, since it is very similar in tone and style to her own Booker nominated Such a Fun Age - and I had the exact same conundrum rating that one as well (i.e., do I rate it as a Booker nominee, or simply as a book? I tried to land between those two poles).
Finally, just as I wish Ripeness had been chosen over the similar Love Forms, I REALLY wish that Mothers and Sons, which tackles similar territory, had made it onto the longlist over this. Sigh.
August 13, 2025
The psychiatrist says that having my wife interpret during the therapy sessions is not an option. Relatives are not allowed. The training is only forty hours. Would you prefer to take it all in one week or in two weeks. Here's a link to the registration. Can you go ahead and register?
If you can, for which I'll be grateful, I'll need you to sign some paperwork. You will need to scan and email it to the organisation that sponsored my recovery. Can I stop by your office tomorrow?
Thank you!
A.
Одна девушка живет в Нью-Йорке и работает переводчицей. Ее рабочие языки — албанский, русский, итальянский. Однажды ее просят попереводить на приеме у стоматолога для одного усталого и немного странного мужчины. Прием у стоматолога, как водится, по уровню боли и стресса проходит так, что дальше мужчина уговарива��т ее пойти с ним к психотерапевту, обсудить странные сны и пытки. Она, разумеется, соглашается.
Это очень странный, но и очень захватывающий роман. Безымянная героиня, кажется, помогает всем потерянным и потерявшим албанцам, спасает их, как некоторые бездомных котят. Ее мужа зовут как книжный шкаф из Икеи, ее подруга играет на скрипке и недоумевает, почему кто-то из Албании переезжает в Америку, а не в Чешскую республику, там ведь так красиво, ну. Ее новоприобретенную подругу преследует какой-то родственник, и, как у Набокова, «я тоже плохо себя чувствую».
Части про Албанию — родственников, еду, поход с мамой в ресторан, местные привычки и проводы в аэропорту — рекомендую прочитать всем уехавшим и оставшимся. Части про Нью-Йорк — всем любителям триллеров. Финальные страницы — всем поклонникам Тони Сопрано. Если вы вдруг не обнаружили себя ни в одной из вышеописанных категорий, у меня есть для вас пейзаж:
A wan moon was struggling to come out. The sky was grey and heavy. The night before, while everyone slept, it had snowed. A thin layer had covered the streets and dirty piles had accumulated to the sides and in between cars after the ploughs had passed. A portly man was taking his two poodles out for their evening walk. With their long, slim limbs and pink booties, they minced about in the snow, reminding me of ballerinas. A group of teenagers, oblivious to the cold and wearing short sleeve T-shirts, sat on a stoop, teasing one another, laughing, smoking pot. They paused their conversation as I walked by and said good evening.
If you can, for which I'll be grateful, I'll need you to sign some paperwork. You will need to scan and email it to the organisation that sponsored my recovery. Can I stop by your office tomorrow?
Thank you!
A.
Одна девушка живет в Нью-Йорке и работает переводчицей. Ее рабочие языки — албанский, русский, итальянский. Однажды ее просят попереводить на приеме у стоматолога для одного усталого и немного странного мужчины. Прием у стоматолога, как водится, по уровню боли и стресса проходит так, что дальше мужчина уговарива��т ее пойти с ним к психотерапевту, обсудить странные сны и пытки. Она, разумеется, соглашается.
Это очень странный, но и очень захватывающий роман. Безымянная героиня, кажется, помогает всем потерянным и потерявшим албанцам, спасает их, как некоторые бездомных котят. Ее мужа зовут как книжный шкаф из Икеи, ее подруга играет на скрипке и недоумевает, почему кто-то из Албании переезжает в Америку, а не в Чешскую республику, там ведь так красиво, ну. Ее новоприобретенную подругу преследует какой-то родственник, и, как у Набокова, «я тоже плохо себя чувствую».
Части про Албанию — родственников, еду, поход с мамой в ресторан, местные привычки и проводы в аэропорту — рекомендую прочитать всем уехавшим и оставшимся. Части про Нью-Йорк — всем любителям триллеров. Финальные страницы — всем поклонникам Тони Сопрано. Если вы вдруг не обнаружили себя ни в одной из вышеописанных категорий, у меня есть для вас пейзаж:
A wan moon was struggling to come out. The sky was grey and heavy. The night before, while everyone slept, it had snowed. A thin layer had covered the streets and dirty piles had accumulated to the sides and in between cars after the ploughs had passed. A portly man was taking his two poodles out for their evening walk. With their long, slim limbs and pink booties, they minced about in the snow, reminding me of ballerinas. A group of teenagers, oblivious to the cold and wearing short sleeve T-shirts, sat on a stoop, teasing one another, laughing, smoking pot. They paused their conversation as I walked by and said good evening.
October 19, 2024
Our protagonist, an Albanian woman working as a translator and interpreter of multiple languages, lives in modern day New York City, and at the beginning of the novel, begrudgingly agrees to work with a new client interpreting during his therapy sessions, unknowingly engaging herself in a quickly and progressively charged relationship that consequently sends her into a self destructive and dangerously reckless spiral. Alfred, her new client, a Kosovar torture survivor, has fallen deep into his own delusions and familial drama, and he unconsciously (but further on not always unintentionally) serves as a catalyst for our protagonists own neglected traumas to resurface; Seeing whispers of their own cultural traumas in each other, Alfred quickly forms an emotional attachment to her, refusing to seek mental help without her translating assistance, and she, against any better judgement, continues to try to help him despite her husband and coworkers pleas towards abandoning this extremely toxic and unprofessional situation. This emotionally taxing and incredibly conflicting client relationship is as well accompanied by the increasingly complex demands of past clients, many she has failed to set successful boundaries with, seeking her help in ever-increasingly unprofessional circumstances, drawing her deeper into personally dangerous circumstances ultimately spawned from her repeated inability to create the necessary distance herself from these people she feels unhealthily obligated to help, and frustratingly ignorant to her own self preservation, she is repeatedly willing to put herself even into life threatening conditions in order to help these desperate clients with their unfortunate situations. These escalating circumstances ultimately spurn our protagonists trip home to Albania to confront her history head on. This book was addicting, stress inducing, perfectly paced in a way that keeps your attention, and it’s uncovered intricacies are curiously unique, providing interesting narratives on translation, culture, perceived obligation, and family, as well as deep contemplation on when it’s ultimately appropriate to unburden yourself of the responsibility of others well being, and we start to uncomfortably question if these stressful externalized situations she is repeatedly putting herself in might be the destructive result of a desperate avoidance of her own personal circumstances she wishes to ignore. I saw another reviewer compare this protagonists behavior to the self destructive tendencies of the protagonist of All Fours by Miranda July, and I totally agree! if you liked that one, definitely check this out!
Read
December 23, 2024I didn't connect with this book/story as much as I thought I would. The premise, though interesting in theory, fell flat in execution. I found the unnamed narrator insufferable, and in the end, I wasn't even sure that any growth had taken place. She was naive, a people pleaser and wanted to be everyone's savior. I liked the little bits and pieces of Albanian history and customs interspersed throughout the book, but other than that it wasn't my cup of tea.
August 21, 2025
The premise is fascinating: an unnamed Albanian interpreter is called upon to accompany a torture survivor from Kosovo named Alfred to his dental appointment. Soon afterward, he pleads with her to attend his therapy sessions with him. Despite having a pregnant wife, he believes he has a special emotional connection to her.
It is the first misinterpretation (to be clear, the misunderstanding of the meaning of something) and it won’t be the last. Our protagonist is not particularly good at sorting out what’s good for her versus what’s helpful for others. Her American husband, Billy, becomes increasingly frustrated and angry with her do-goodism, including clients showing up at the door uninvited or an abuse victim who is invited by our protagonist to crash at their house for a while. Alfred’s therapist quickly gleans that she is blurring the lines and needs to consider therapy for herself.
Part literary novel, part thriller, the novel begs us to consider how to live an emotionally healthy life when the very real and desperate needs of others keep getting in the way. Society lauds us for being caring and unselfish, but in reality, our real desire to be of service can eventually affect our relationships with those we share our time with and can lead to burnout and questioning of who we are and what defines our own self-worth.
This isn’t a perfect book. Ledia Xhoga is masterful at creating a dark and unsettling ambiance but at times (in the middle), the narrative lagged. Still, the theme of one’s intention versus real-life outcomes is reflective and thought-provoking, and the unfolding of the story is originally and well-crafted.
It is the first misinterpretation (to be clear, the misunderstanding of the meaning of something) and it won’t be the last. Our protagonist is not particularly good at sorting out what’s good for her versus what’s helpful for others. Her American husband, Billy, becomes increasingly frustrated and angry with her do-goodism, including clients showing up at the door uninvited or an abuse victim who is invited by our protagonist to crash at their house for a while. Alfred’s therapist quickly gleans that she is blurring the lines and needs to consider therapy for herself.
Part literary novel, part thriller, the novel begs us to consider how to live an emotionally healthy life when the very real and desperate needs of others keep getting in the way. Society lauds us for being caring and unselfish, but in reality, our real desire to be of service can eventually affect our relationships with those we share our time with and can lead to burnout and questioning of who we are and what defines our own self-worth.
This isn’t a perfect book. Ledia Xhoga is masterful at creating a dark and unsettling ambiance but at times (in the middle), the narrative lagged. Still, the theme of one’s intention versus real-life outcomes is reflective and thought-provoking, and the unfolding of the story is originally and well-crafted.
August 22, 2025
2.5, generously rounded up. My 12th novel from the Booker longlist and my least favorite. This one wasn’t for me.
August 29, 2025
Misinterpretation delves into themes of identity, belonging, and the quiet struggles of trying to meet others’ expectations while staying true to oneself. The novel explores how personal choices are shaped by social pressures, ambition, and relationships, all while blurring the lines between reality and imagination in a subtle, intriguing way.
Xhoga’s writing style is thoughtful and, at times, beautifully lyrical, but the narrative can feel unfocused. The story moves between multiple threads and ideas without fully developing them, which makes it difficult to connect deeply with the journey as a whole. While its wide scope introduces interesting perspectives, the lack of cohesion left me wishing for a clearer sense of purpose.
Overall, Misinterpretation offers moments of insight and creativity, but it didn’t completely resonate with me.
Xhoga’s writing style is thoughtful and, at times, beautifully lyrical, but the narrative can feel unfocused. The story moves between multiple threads and ideas without fully developing them, which makes it difficult to connect deeply with the journey as a whole. While its wide scope introduces interesting perspectives, the lack of cohesion left me wishing for a clearer sense of purpose.
Overall, Misinterpretation offers moments of insight and creativity, but it didn’t completely resonate with me.
September 19, 2025
3.5, I liked where she was going but she didn’t quite get me there
August 25, 2025
Promise I’ll write reviews for these past couple books ❤️ been busy
September 1, 2025
This longlist is a joke. Makes one wonder whether the judges are rewarding the “idea” of a book more than the actual prose.
October 21, 2025
Misinterpretation is about an Albanian translator/interpreter, now living in New York with her American husband, Bobby.
The interpreter has a compulsion to help people, even if it annoys her husband and even those she's trying to help. A few misguided altruistic behaviours get her in trouble.
I breezed through this, as my library loan was about to expire. I am convinced Alix Dunmore's excellent narration kept me enthralled.
Despite its imperfections, the writing style, the atmosphere and the Eastern European common ground - made for an interesting reading journey.
The interpreter has a compulsion to help people, even if it annoys her husband and even those she's trying to help. A few misguided altruistic behaviours get her in trouble.
I breezed through this, as my library loan was about to expire. I am convinced Alix Dunmore's excellent narration kept me enthralled.
Despite its imperfections, the writing style, the atmosphere and the Eastern European common ground - made for an interesting reading journey.
August 1, 2025
Expected a quiet, elegantly depicted, typically “literary” (slow-moving) novel about heady topics like translation, interpretation, memory (national/individual), arthouse film. Misinterpretation is that, but it’s also a controlled descent into chaos as the protagonist, an Albanian interpreter with a compulsive do-gooder personality, tries to save everyone around her from their difficulties—and ends up drugging someone, stealing property, and lying to her husband in the process. It’s like Katie Kitamura’s Intimacies but with thriller-level plot velocity.
I loved this! Was reading it on the train, walking on and off the train (probably dangerous…), walking to work, walking from work…
The characters all feel sufficiently noble and hypocritical, weak of will and strangely indomitable in their integrity. Felt myself very attached to everyone at the end.
I loved this! Was reading it on the train, walking on and off the train (probably dangerous…), walking to work, walking from work…
The characters all feel sufficiently noble and hypocritical, weak of will and strangely indomitable in their integrity. Felt myself very attached to everyone at the end.
April 9, 2025
Truly terrible. A whole cast of characters passed through the narrator’s world with nary a distinguishing detail between them. People appear and disappear for no apparent reason.. Verbose, unnecessary, inexplicable detail. The narrator and her husband are supposed to have jobs but no one ever seems to work. Conclusion is utterly nonsensical. Reads like a book that was written for an MFA class that the author got a C- in. Sorry I wasted my time on this one.
September 12, 2025
2.5, rounding up.
August 2, 2025
.5 stars for writing (clean prose for sure)
.5 stars for characters
0 stars for setting
.5 stars for plot
0 stars for liking it
I really loved how this one started, but I felt bludgeoned with the point of it. It was not subtle. I don't have this one pegged for the Booker, but this is the first one that I've read so we will see as time goes on.
Feel free to join me with a little Booker Bracket fun at https://jamieraenewman.substack.com/
.5 stars for characters
0 stars for setting
.5 stars for plot
0 stars for liking it
I really loved how this one started, but I felt bludgeoned with the point of it. It was not subtle. I don't have this one pegged for the Booker, but this is the first one that I've read so we will see as time goes on.
Feel free to join me with a little Booker Bracket fun at https://jamieraenewman.substack.com/
August 11, 2025
MISINTERPRETATION
by Ledia Xhoga 🪞 🐅
Thank you @tin_house for this copy
A somewhat close to the chest take on the difficulties of understanding one another, Misinterpretation deeply explores how language is our most phenomenal tool, endless in its capabilities, but somehow still often fails us.
Why is it so easy to understand someone else and offer our every benefit of the doubt, but be so unwilling to do so for someone we live with, that we love?
This novel’s about how the act of interpretation or translation is an act of empathy at its purest. How the attempt to truly understand one another always pulls us outside ourselves. It opens our hearts and our homes, often to the disastrous collapsing of our own wellbeing, confusing the boundary between what’s real and what’s not.
It’s also about how a traumatized person being heard and cared for perhaps for the first time by an empathetic professional may confuse it with love. Simultaneously, it’s about the commodification and capitalizing on skills that require deeply personal interactions—interpreting, nursing, medicine, etc, that so easily lend an opening to our shared humanity rather than the stiff telemarketer, grocery store checkout passings by each other—at the end of the day still involves a plain, faulty human trying and sometimes failing to transcend their baser selves.
This should have been one of those tight little fiery 200 page novels that burns bright beginning to end and leaves the reader with a big feeling and a lot to chew on. Instead, I think it sort of talks itself out of being as interesting as it should be—there’s at least a couple of pretty big speed bumps this book really has to grind its gears to get up and over, including the ending.
In the end though, the novel stands strong as a whole. I most appreciated finding a brilliant discussion about the boundless, complicated gray area existing between empathy and the necessity of boundaries, discussing, thankfully subtly, burnout, self-care, and compassion fatigue all laid across the context of holding the personal pieces separated by displacement and a breaking marriage.
by Ledia Xhoga 🪞 🐅
Thank you @tin_house for this copy
A somewhat close to the chest take on the difficulties of understanding one another, Misinterpretation deeply explores how language is our most phenomenal tool, endless in its capabilities, but somehow still often fails us.
Why is it so easy to understand someone else and offer our every benefit of the doubt, but be so unwilling to do so for someone we live with, that we love?
This novel’s about how the act of interpretation or translation is an act of empathy at its purest. How the attempt to truly understand one another always pulls us outside ourselves. It opens our hearts and our homes, often to the disastrous collapsing of our own wellbeing, confusing the boundary between what’s real and what’s not.
It’s also about how a traumatized person being heard and cared for perhaps for the first time by an empathetic professional may confuse it with love. Simultaneously, it’s about the commodification and capitalizing on skills that require deeply personal interactions—interpreting, nursing, medicine, etc, that so easily lend an opening to our shared humanity rather than the stiff telemarketer, grocery store checkout passings by each other—at the end of the day still involves a plain, faulty human trying and sometimes failing to transcend their baser selves.
This should have been one of those tight little fiery 200 page novels that burns bright beginning to end and leaves the reader with a big feeling and a lot to chew on. Instead, I think it sort of talks itself out of being as interesting as it should be—there’s at least a couple of pretty big speed bumps this book really has to grind its gears to get up and over, including the ending.
In the end though, the novel stands strong as a whole. I most appreciated finding a brilliant discussion about the boundless, complicated gray area existing between empathy and the necessity of boundaries, discussing, thankfully subtly, burnout, self-care, and compassion fatigue all laid across the context of holding the personal pieces separated by displacement and a breaking marriage.
April 22, 2025
At one point in this lovely novel, our unnamed narrator suggests that her life with her husband is a love story, and it is; but this book contains a mixture of genres, all braided together to form a cord stronger than any of its individual fibers. This is a "NY novel," an immigrant's bildungsroman, and a family saga, with elements of a thriller and a dollop of magical realism for good measure.
Our polyglot narrator interprets for others, and cannot help but take on the stories and struggles of her clients, inviting them into her life such that she begins to lose the thread of her own narrative. She is empathic, sure, but she is also cunning. She knows her power to craft meaning with words, but she hesitates to accept the much different power that comes from leaving certain words unspoken. As is often the case when one is lost, our narrator must return to her childhood home to find some sense of understanding of her predicament, then return to her present life having bathed in her past, with fresh perspective.
There is beautiful but subtle imagery throughout this book that sneaks up on you, and lingers- the floral motif, of course, but also a deft attention paid to colors and fabrics and skies and food. Xhoga crafts characters that stick despite their ethereal passings into and out of memory. She gives us so many witty and wise lines about the nature of relationships (romantic, platonic, and everything between) and the lonely burden of being the one who is brave enough to leave home for good, that I had to stop underlining and dog-earring and just enjoy the ride.
It is a pretty, melancholic book, woven through with darkness, but also hope. Xhoga reminds us that we might never really know anyone, lest we first know ourselves. I hope to read more from her in the future.
Our polyglot narrator interprets for others, and cannot help but take on the stories and struggles of her clients, inviting them into her life such that she begins to lose the thread of her own narrative. She is empathic, sure, but she is also cunning. She knows her power to craft meaning with words, but she hesitates to accept the much different power that comes from leaving certain words unspoken. As is often the case when one is lost, our narrator must return to her childhood home to find some sense of understanding of her predicament, then return to her present life having bathed in her past, with fresh perspective.
There is beautiful but subtle imagery throughout this book that sneaks up on you, and lingers- the floral motif, of course, but also a deft attention paid to colors and fabrics and skies and food. Xhoga crafts characters that stick despite their ethereal passings into and out of memory. She gives us so many witty and wise lines about the nature of relationships (romantic, platonic, and everything between) and the lonely burden of being the one who is brave enough to leave home for good, that I had to stop underlining and dog-earring and just enjoy the ride.
It is a pretty, melancholic book, woven through with darkness, but also hope. Xhoga reminds us that we might never really know anyone, lest we first know ourselves. I hope to read more from her in the future.
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