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Bottled Goods
Longlisted for the 2019 Women's Prize, this poignant, lyrical novel is set in 1970s Romania during Communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu's regime--and depicts childhood, marriage, family, and identity in the face of extreme obstacles.
Alina yearns for freedom. She and her husband Liviu are teachers in their twenties, living under the repressive regime of Communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu in the Socialist Republic of Romania in the 1970s. But after her brother-in-law defects, Alina and Liviu fall under suspicion and surveillance, and their lives are suddenly turned upside down--just like the glasses in her superstitious Aunt Theresa's house that are used to ward off evil spirits.
But Alina's evil spirits are more corporeal: a suffocating, manipulative mother; a student who accuses her; and a menacing Secret Services agent who makes one-too-many visits. As the couple continues to be harassed, their marriage soon deteriorates. With the government watching--and most likely listening--escape seems impossible . . . until Alina's mystical aunt proposes a surprising solution to reduce her problems to a manageable size.
Weaving elements of magic realism, Romanian folklore, and Kafkaesque paranoia into a gritty and moving depiction of one woman's struggle for personal and political freedom, Bottled Goods is written in short bursts of "flash fiction" and explores universal themes of empowerment, liberty, family, and loyalty.
Alina yearns for freedom. She and her husband Liviu are teachers in their twenties, living under the repressive regime of Communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu in the Socialist Republic of Romania in the 1970s. But after her brother-in-law defects, Alina and Liviu fall under suspicion and surveillance, and their lives are suddenly turned upside down--just like the glasses in her superstitious Aunt Theresa's house that are used to ward off evil spirits.
But Alina's evil spirits are more corporeal: a suffocating, manipulative mother; a student who accuses her; and a menacing Secret Services agent who makes one-too-many visits. As the couple continues to be harassed, their marriage soon deteriorates. With the government watching--and most likely listening--escape seems impossible . . . until Alina's mystical aunt proposes a surprising solution to reduce her problems to a manageable size.
Weaving elements of magic realism, Romanian folklore, and Kafkaesque paranoia into a gritty and moving depiction of one woman's struggle for personal and political freedom, Bottled Goods is written in short bursts of "flash fiction" and explores universal themes of empowerment, liberty, family, and loyalty.
190 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2018
54 people are currently reading
5206 people want to read
About the author
Sophie van Llewyn
7 books86 followersSophie van Llewyn is a Romanian-born author of historical fiction. She now lives in Germany.
Her novella-in-flash BOTTLED GOODS (Fairlight Books) was longlisted for the Women's Prize 2019, for the Republic of Consciousness Prize 2019 and for the People's Book Prize.
Sophie's work was published in various print and online journals, such as The Guardian, New Delta Review, Ambit, Litro, New South, Banshee, The Lonely Crowd, and many others.
She has also been placed in a number of competitions. Recently, one of her pieces was shortlisted for the Bath Flash Fiction Award.
Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best Small Fictions, Best Microfiction, Best of the Net.
Sophie was a Resident Flash Fiction Writer at TSS Publishing from September 2018 to March 2019.
Her novella-in-flash BOTTLED GOODS (Fairlight Books) was longlisted for the Women's Prize 2019, for the Republic of Consciousness Prize 2019 and for the People's Book Prize.
Sophie's work was published in various print and online journals, such as The Guardian, New Delta Review, Ambit, Litro, New South, Banshee, The Lonely Crowd, and many others.
She has also been placed in a number of competitions. Recently, one of her pieces was shortlisted for the Bath Flash Fiction Award.
Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best Small Fictions, Best Microfiction, Best of the Net.
Sophie was a Resident Flash Fiction Writer at TSS Publishing from September 2018 to March 2019.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 373 reviews
December 22, 2022
possibly the most unique book i've ever read that i would still categorize as forgettable.
there was so much going on, but also not enough? it all felt distant.
and a little bit confusing.
and i always write reviews about a month after i read the book, and i rarely have this little of a memory of it.
what a conundrum.
bottom line: one of the oddest and yet least interesting reading experiences i've had!
-----------------
tbr review
i have literally 0 memory of adding this. what's happening
guess i'll read it.
there was so much going on, but also not enough? it all felt distant.
and a little bit confusing.
and i always write reviews about a month after i read the book, and i rarely have this little of a memory of it.
what a conundrum.
bottom line: one of the oddest and yet least interesting reading experiences i've had!
-----------------
tbr review
i have literally 0 memory of adding this. what's happening
guess i'll read it.
August 10, 2020
My reviews can also be seen at: https://deesradreadsandreviews.wordpr...
An interesting and unique read!
“Bottled Goods is written in short bursts of “flash fiction” and explores universal themes of empowerment, liberty, family, and loyalty.”
Bottled Goods is set in the 1970’s Romania during Communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu’s repressive regime. Alina and her husband, Liviu are both teachers living in Romania. While life is far from easy, they are relatively happy.
Then came the Saturday when everything changed…
They arrive home one afternoon and find two men in grey suits waiting for them. “Please come with us. We have to ask you a few questions.”
It seems Alina’s brother-in-law; Mihai is not planning on returning to Romania.
They are persecuted for Mihai’s defection and immediately put under surveillance. They are harassed by authorities and ignored by their friends. Alina is visited by the secret police weekly, and the visits become even more terrifying.
Alina and her husband struggle for freedom. But freedom can come at a great cost.
How can they possibly escape if the government is watching and listening? Plus there are others who may want to jinx their plans.
Will Alina’s Aunt Theresa be able to help?
To be honest, “Bottled Goods” is not likely a book I would have chosen for myself. However, I’ve been trying to broaden my horizons by reading books I might not normally read.
This was a very quick read at 192 pages, and the short chapters seemed to make it go even faster. The story is told from Alina’s point of view.
The author created some very intriguing characters, especially the superstitious Aunt Theresa. I couldn’t help but feel for Alina and I can’t imagine how I would have handled the situations she was in. I enjoyed learning more about Romanian folklore, and while I’m not a huge fan of magical realism, it seemed to fit in well here. I’m not sure how I felt about the ending but overall, I thought this was an enjoyable read.
I'd like to thank the publisher for providing me with a copy of this novel. All opinions are my own.
March 30, 2019
Now longlisted for the Women's Prize 2019.
Re read following its longlisting for the 2019 Republic of Consciousness Prize.
This book is published by Fairlight Books, a new UK small press which “has one aim – to celebrate quality writing and promote the best of new and contemporary literary fiction.” and with a mission “to promote contemporary literary fiction and quality writing, whatever the genre and however it is published”
This book is one of the first of their Fairlight Moderns series, a series of aesthetically designed, pocket sized books, introducing new writers and contemporary themes from around the world.
This was my introduction to the publisher and to the series. I found the book ideal for travelling, as an additional book to slip into a bag alongside weightier tomes and it worked perfectly on a flight where I had finished my main book and wanted to start on another book before resting. It is a tribute to the book that I ended up reading it cover to cover.
The book is set in Romania (where the author Sophie van Llewyn, a flash fiction and short story writer, was born) at the end of the 1960s, early in Ceausescu’s near 25 year reign as leader of the country.
The style of the book is very innovative and effective, a novella told in flash fiction.
More than 50 pieces of flash fiction in total (a number of which could and did function independently) which range across the first and third (and even at one stage) second person; the majority in traditional narrative form but a number presented differently: timelines of a day, a brief curse filled invective, postcards, a list of items and what they were traded for, a note to Father Frost, commented quotes.
The story is a simple but harrowing one - Alina is set partly adrift by her mother when she marries into poorer stock, but her marriage, life and teaching career (as well as that of her husbands) are all cast under a permanent threat when her husband’s brother defects to the West; which threat becomes even greater and personal when she fails to report a young child in her class with an illicit comic and attracts the terrible and abusive attention of a secret service agent.
With her mother unwilling to help, she turns to her Aunt, well connected in the Party but also a practitioner of traditional rites and believer of folk customs. She is introduced in the first chapter, as she summons Alina to a secret burial of a grandfather she did not know existed, a grandfather whose burial casket is rather small and who was sometimes kept in a bird cage. And immediately we have a hint of magic realism, something that broadens out later in the book.
Overall the magic realism offset against the modernist brutality as well as reminding me of Latin American novellas, effectively conveys Ceausescu’s Romania’s terrible mix of poverty and repression. Further the novella-in-flash form functions well to capture the way in which a totalitarian society can lead to a strict compartmentalism of one’s private and public lives.
Recommended.
Re read following its longlisting for the 2019 Republic of Consciousness Prize.
This book is published by Fairlight Books, a new UK small press which “has one aim – to celebrate quality writing and promote the best of new and contemporary literary fiction.” and with a mission “to promote contemporary literary fiction and quality writing, whatever the genre and however it is published”
This book is one of the first of their Fairlight Moderns series, a series of aesthetically designed, pocket sized books, introducing new writers and contemporary themes from around the world.
This was my introduction to the publisher and to the series. I found the book ideal for travelling, as an additional book to slip into a bag alongside weightier tomes and it worked perfectly on a flight where I had finished my main book and wanted to start on another book before resting. It is a tribute to the book that I ended up reading it cover to cover.
The book is set in Romania (where the author Sophie van Llewyn, a flash fiction and short story writer, was born) at the end of the 1960s, early in Ceausescu’s near 25 year reign as leader of the country.
The style of the book is very innovative and effective, a novella told in flash fiction.
More than 50 pieces of flash fiction in total (a number of which could and did function independently) which range across the first and third (and even at one stage) second person; the majority in traditional narrative form but a number presented differently: timelines of a day, a brief curse filled invective, postcards, a list of items and what they were traded for, a note to Father Frost, commented quotes.
The story is a simple but harrowing one - Alina is set partly adrift by her mother when she marries into poorer stock, but her marriage, life and teaching career (as well as that of her husbands) are all cast under a permanent threat when her husband’s brother defects to the West; which threat becomes even greater and personal when she fails to report a young child in her class with an illicit comic and attracts the terrible and abusive attention of a secret service agent.
With her mother unwilling to help, she turns to her Aunt, well connected in the Party but also a practitioner of traditional rites and believer of folk customs. She is introduced in the first chapter, as she summons Alina to a secret burial of a grandfather she did not know existed, a grandfather whose burial casket is rather small and who was sometimes kept in a bird cage. And immediately we have a hint of magic realism, something that broadens out later in the book.
Overall the magic realism offset against the modernist brutality as well as reminding me of Latin American novellas, effectively conveys Ceausescu’s Romania’s terrible mix of poverty and repression. Further the novella-in-flash form functions well to capture the way in which a totalitarian society can lead to a strict compartmentalism of one’s private and public lives.
Recommended.
July 30, 2020
I think I’ve only read one other book set in Romania, a historical, The Girl They Left Behind. Bottled Goods is a slim novel at less than 200 pages and was nominated for the 2019 Women’s Prize. The book is set during the 1970s when Communist dictator Ceausescu was in power.
Alina seeks freedom. She is a teacher, along with her husband, Liviu. When her brother-in-law defects, it leaves Alina and Liviu under suspicion and harsh surveillance. Alina is surrounded by difficulty - her mother, an angry student, and a Secret Services agent. On top of it all, her marriage has gone sour, and it appears Alina is completely stuck until her aunt offers a solution involving magic.
Bottled Goods is perfectly written in a nuanced style. I loved how the author included magic and folklore in the storytelling in a well-integrated way. The book has an exceptionally fast pace, accelerated by short chapters, some only a page in length. Bottled Goods is a novel well worth the acclaim it has received and then some.
I received a gifted copy. All opinions are my own.
Many of my reviews can also be found on my blog: www.jennifertarheelreader.com and instagram: www.instagram.com/tarheelreader
Alina seeks freedom. She is a teacher, along with her husband, Liviu. When her brother-in-law defects, it leaves Alina and Liviu under suspicion and harsh surveillance. Alina is surrounded by difficulty - her mother, an angry student, and a Secret Services agent. On top of it all, her marriage has gone sour, and it appears Alina is completely stuck until her aunt offers a solution involving magic.
Bottled Goods is perfectly written in a nuanced style. I loved how the author included magic and folklore in the storytelling in a well-integrated way. The book has an exceptionally fast pace, accelerated by short chapters, some only a page in length. Bottled Goods is a novel well worth the acclaim it has received and then some.
I received a gifted copy. All opinions are my own.
Many of my reviews can also be found on my blog: www.jennifertarheelreader.com and instagram: www.instagram.com/tarheelreader
March 6, 2019
I had not heard of this book before it was announced as one of the Women's Prize long list. It is a short read told in flash style, like lists and little vignettes, set in Romania during the Ceaușescu era (1970s.)
Alina married a man in a lower class and really starts to regret it when his brother leaves the country without permission, making them a new target for the secret police. Mix that kind of oppression and intrigue with a folksy fantasy element and you end up with a unique read! I loved the ending, at least how I interpret it. If you read it, let me know so we can confer.
Alina married a man in a lower class and really starts to regret it when his brother leaves the country without permission, making them a new target for the secret police. Mix that kind of oppression and intrigue with a folksy fantasy element and you end up with a unique read! I loved the ending, at least how I interpret it. If you read it, let me know so we can confer.
April 24, 2019
I think Bottled Goods is an interesting, impressive book in a number of ways, but I can’t help but to feel a bit underwhelmed by it. It tells the story of Alina, a young woman living in 1970s communist Romania, whose family comes under surveillance when her brother-in-law defects to the west. Blending a quotidian story with elements of Romanian folklore, this book is a unique, magical creation that I think will satisfy a lot of readers despite its brevity.
But while I was particularly intrigued by its ‘novella-in-flash’ premise, it turned out that the whole flash thing kind of ruined it for me. Each of these chapters is brief – some are a few sentences, some are two or three pages – and each jumps the narrative ahead several weeks or months with no preamble. I hadn’t realized just how much I appreciate a consistent pace and flow in storytelling, but I guess it makes sense, because I’ve noticed over the years that my reading speed gradually increases the further into a book I get; at the very beginning, before I’ve been pulled into the narrative, my mind wanders easily and I find myself rereading the same passages over and over. That’s what kept happening to me with this book – it’s only 190 pages, and rather tiny pages at that, but it took me probably six or seven sittings to get through it, because the jolting pace made it particularly difficult for me to care about any of it.
But anyway, all of that has more to do with me as a reader than what this book does or does not offer. I think it offers a lot: it’s a perceptive commentary about a young woman living under an oppressive governmental regime, an interesting counterpart to Milkman on the Women’s Prize longlist (though I think Milkman is the stronger novel in just about every conceivable way). And I did find its unique style both paradoxically stimulating and distracting; hopefully it will fall more toward the stimulating end of the spectrum for a lot of readers. Finally, I know that everyone who knows me was worried about my reception to this book as soon as the words ‘magical realism’ entered the summary, but I actually didn’t mind that element – I’m not sure it added anything that couldn’t have been achieved with more literal storytelling, but it was an interesting way to comment on the lengths one goes to in order to escape an oppressive government. So on the whole, not really the book for me, but a solid book nonetheless.
But while I was particularly intrigued by its ‘novella-in-flash’ premise, it turned out that the whole flash thing kind of ruined it for me. Each of these chapters is brief – some are a few sentences, some are two or three pages – and each jumps the narrative ahead several weeks or months with no preamble. I hadn’t realized just how much I appreciate a consistent pace and flow in storytelling, but I guess it makes sense, because I’ve noticed over the years that my reading speed gradually increases the further into a book I get; at the very beginning, before I’ve been pulled into the narrative, my mind wanders easily and I find myself rereading the same passages over and over. That’s what kept happening to me with this book – it’s only 190 pages, and rather tiny pages at that, but it took me probably six or seven sittings to get through it, because the jolting pace made it particularly difficult for me to care about any of it.
But anyway, all of that has more to do with me as a reader than what this book does or does not offer. I think it offers a lot: it’s a perceptive commentary about a young woman living under an oppressive governmental regime, an interesting counterpart to Milkman on the Women’s Prize longlist (though I think Milkman is the stronger novel in just about every conceivable way). And I did find its unique style both paradoxically stimulating and distracting; hopefully it will fall more toward the stimulating end of the spectrum for a lot of readers. Finally, I know that everyone who knows me was worried about my reception to this book as soon as the words ‘magical realism’ entered the summary, but I actually didn’t mind that element – I’m not sure it added anything that couldn’t have been achieved with more literal storytelling, but it was an interesting way to comment on the lengths one goes to in order to escape an oppressive government. So on the whole, not really the book for me, but a solid book nonetheless.
February 17, 2019
Longlisted for the Republic of Consciousness Prize 2019
Some of the reviews I have seen have focused on it being a novella in flash fiction, and although some "chapters" have been published in flash fiction collections, this element is easy to ignore, as there is a clear narrative arc, the whole feels like a novel, and most of the chapters are four to five pages long.
About half of the novel feels like a realistic portrayal of ordinary life in the brutal and extraordinary society of Ceaucescu's Romania. Some parts are narrated by Alina, who starts the book as a young teacher, marries Liviu without the consent of her mother and the couple become personae non grata when Liviu's brother defects to the West.
The couple are harassed by the security police, a situation that is exacerbated when Alina fails to denounce one of her pupils for bringing black market goods and a banned magazine to school. Fortunately her aunt, who is married to a high ranking communist official, is sympathetic to their plight and helps them formulate an emigration plan disguised as a research trip to Italy and Germany, but they are betrayed by Alina's mother.
The second half feels more like magic realism.
I found this book interesting and enjoyable to read, certainly more so than the only other Romanian I have read, Herta Müller, whose The Land of Green Plums was relentlessly harrowing. So it was quite a pleasant way to finish the Republic of Consciousness Prize longlist, which has been challenging, stimulating and very impressive.
Some of the reviews I have seen have focused on it being a novella in flash fiction, and although some "chapters" have been published in flash fiction collections, this element is easy to ignore, as there is a clear narrative arc, the whole feels like a novel, and most of the chapters are four to five pages long.
About half of the novel feels like a realistic portrayal of ordinary life in the brutal and extraordinary society of Ceaucescu's Romania. Some parts are narrated by Alina, who starts the book as a young teacher, marries Liviu without the consent of her mother and the couple become personae non grata when Liviu's brother defects to the West.
The couple are harassed by the security police, a situation that is exacerbated when Alina fails to denounce one of her pupils for bringing black market goods and a banned magazine to school. Fortunately her aunt, who is married to a high ranking communist official, is sympathetic to their plight and helps them formulate an emigration plan disguised as a research trip to Italy and Germany, but they are betrayed by Alina's mother.
The second half feels more like magic realism.
I found this book interesting and enjoyable to read, certainly more so than the only other Romanian I have read, Herta Müller, whose The Land of Green Plums was relentlessly harrowing. So it was quite a pleasant way to finish the Republic of Consciousness Prize longlist, which has been challenging, stimulating and very impressive.
April 26, 2019
(Nearly 4.5) “Sometimes I think there is something deeply wrong with this country.” I thoroughly enjoyed this short collection of fragmentary imaginings of life at the tail end of Communism in Romania. It’s a terrific hybrid work that manages to combine several of my favorite forms: a novella, flash fiction and linked short stories. The content is also an intriguing blend, of the horrific and the magical. After her brother-in-law’s defection, Alina and her husband Liviu come under extra scrutiny. When Alina, a mathematics teacher who’s hoping to get her co-authored textbook published, turns a blind eye to a student bringing a contraband magazine to class, she becomes a Secret Services target. She and Liviu apply for visas to leave for Italy or Germany, but a long road of deception, betrayal, interrogations and degradation lies ahead of them.
A couple of things make all this material bearable: sporadic bursts of magic realism – a rain dance, a fairy festival, and a couple of family members who get shrunk down to perfume bottle size for protection or punishment – and a delightful mixture of narrative styles, including lists and letters and alternating between the first and third person. The cover is perfect, working both literally (there’s a cat who takes an undue interest in miniature humans) and figuratively (entrapment in an oppressive regime).
My only reservation is that this reads vaguely like literature in translation, perhaps because English is the author’s third language. (I’m presuming here: she was born in Romania and is now an anesthetist in Germany; some particulars of her life echo Alina’s.) Nothing major, only the occasional wrong choice of preposition and a bunch of superfluous commas, but I just had the feeling that something was slightly off.
In any case, the format and tone (grim meets quirky) are reminiscent of a Polish work in translation from a couple years ago, Swallowing Mercury by Wioletta Greg, and this is one I can imagine appealing to fans of Helen Oyeyemi. I’d love to see it make it onto the Women’s Prize shortlist, though I think it will probably be edged out by more high-profile releases.
A couple of things make all this material bearable: sporadic bursts of magic realism – a rain dance, a fairy festival, and a couple of family members who get shrunk down to perfume bottle size for protection or punishment – and a delightful mixture of narrative styles, including lists and letters and alternating between the first and third person. The cover is perfect, working both literally (there’s a cat who takes an undue interest in miniature humans) and figuratively (entrapment in an oppressive regime).
My only reservation is that this reads vaguely like literature in translation, perhaps because English is the author’s third language. (I’m presuming here: she was born in Romania and is now an anesthetist in Germany; some particulars of her life echo Alina’s.) Nothing major, only the occasional wrong choice of preposition and a bunch of superfluous commas, but I just had the feeling that something was slightly off.
In any case, the format and tone (grim meets quirky) are reminiscent of a Polish work in translation from a couple years ago, Swallowing Mercury by Wioletta Greg, and this is one I can imagine appealing to fans of Helen Oyeyemi. I’d love to see it make it onto the Women’s Prize shortlist, though I think it will probably be edged out by more high-profile releases.
April 4, 2019
This book was really not for me – and this is weird because I really thought it would be. I love novels told in short stories and I love books inspired by Eastern European fairy tales. But I really failed to connect to this book. Part of this has to do with the fact that I read so many similar books that this felt derivative in a way that feels mean to communicate (drawing on real life atrocities as it is).
Told in short, flash fiction like chapters, this is Alina’s story, as she is navigating an increasingly cold marriage while living in a dictatorship that threatens everything about her life. It is similar in themes to the (much better) Milkman and maybe the closeness in which I read these books were to its detriment. Alina is incapable of communicating effectively with those closest to her and van Llewyn shows how the climate of the time suffocates any possible feeling between Alina and the others. The insidiousness of her dealings with the secret police is explored, but it mostly stayed on the surface. Scenes were strikingly similar to other books in a way that seems like it might have been intentional (the obvious comparison for me was The Zsar of Love and Techno by Anthony Marra, a book also told in short stories and dealing with atrocities but also a book I adore beyond measure). I guess what I am trying to communicate is that I found this book lacking in comparison to other novels, a critique that is not particularly helpful, I know.
For me, the book worked best in the stories that were more magical in nature, here I thought van Llewyn really added something to the canon. Her exploration of fairy tales in dictatorships was lovely and interesting. It helped that my favourite character (the wonderful Aunt Theresa) was front and centre of these fairytalesque stories. This is not a bad book by any means but one that I found not quite exciting and not as well written as I would have hoped it would be.
You can find this review and other thoughts on books (currently I am reading the Women's Prize longlist) on my blog
Told in short, flash fiction like chapters, this is Alina’s story, as she is navigating an increasingly cold marriage while living in a dictatorship that threatens everything about her life. It is similar in themes to the (much better) Milkman and maybe the closeness in which I read these books were to its detriment. Alina is incapable of communicating effectively with those closest to her and van Llewyn shows how the climate of the time suffocates any possible feeling between Alina and the others. The insidiousness of her dealings with the secret police is explored, but it mostly stayed on the surface. Scenes were strikingly similar to other books in a way that seems like it might have been intentional (the obvious comparison for me was The Zsar of Love and Techno by Anthony Marra, a book also told in short stories and dealing with atrocities but also a book I adore beyond measure). I guess what I am trying to communicate is that I found this book lacking in comparison to other novels, a critique that is not particularly helpful, I know.
For me, the book worked best in the stories that were more magical in nature, here I thought van Llewyn really added something to the canon. Her exploration of fairy tales in dictatorships was lovely and interesting. It helped that my favourite character (the wonderful Aunt Theresa) was front and centre of these fairytalesque stories. This is not a bad book by any means but one that I found not quite exciting and not as well written as I would have hoped it would be.
You can find this review and other thoughts on books (currently I am reading the Women's Prize longlist) on my blog
September 26, 2020
4.5
I read Bottled Goods in two sittings. It's a small book which I found extremely compelling.
First of all, I had no idea what flash fiction was, but whatever the definition is, I liked it. A lot.
This book resonated with me on a personal level, as I am a Romanian child of the 70s, so many of the stories, descriptions, foods, rituals, behaviours, social and work relations were very familiar.
I thought van Llewyn accomplished so much with so little. The structure worked incredibly well to put together a jigsaw puzzle of life in Communist Romania, to make up a picture that was pretty realistic, simple yet complex.
I couldn't stop asking myself whether my assessment was objective, even knowing there is no such thing as objectivity when it comes to any form of art. I've been told that I can be harsher or too critical when it comes to anything Romanian. It's complicated. I loathe nationalism/patriotism and while I am not ashamed to be a Romanian, I also don't feel pride. I like to think I'm more than geography, while also having the geography in my blood, to a certain extent. I am happy that I got to experience some Communism but was lucky to be a teen when it ended so I didn't get brainwashed. I can smell propaganda like a bloodhound. Anyway, what I'm trying to say in my convoluted, unedited way, is that I believe this is an objectively good book.
There is one magical element to the story, which didn't quite work for me, even though I understood it served a purpose and added a bit of quirk to a bleak story.
So, yeah, I'm glad I read Bottled Goods and I'm grateful to Deanna for bringing it to my attention.
I hope this book finds a bigger readership and I'm looking forward to reading more from Sophie van Llewyn (I'm guessing it's a pen name as it's not Romanian in the least).
I read Bottled Goods in two sittings. It's a small book which I found extremely compelling.
First of all, I had no idea what flash fiction was, but whatever the definition is, I liked it. A lot.
This book resonated with me on a personal level, as I am a Romanian child of the 70s, so many of the stories, descriptions, foods, rituals, behaviours, social and work relations were very familiar.
I thought van Llewyn accomplished so much with so little. The structure worked incredibly well to put together a jigsaw puzzle of life in Communist Romania, to make up a picture that was pretty realistic, simple yet complex.
I couldn't stop asking myself whether my assessment was objective, even knowing there is no such thing as objectivity when it comes to any form of art. I've been told that I can be harsher or too critical when it comes to anything Romanian. It's complicated. I loathe nationalism/patriotism and while I am not ashamed to be a Romanian, I also don't feel pride. I like to think I'm more than geography, while also having the geography in my blood, to a certain extent. I am happy that I got to experience some Communism but was lucky to be a teen when it ended so I didn't get brainwashed. I can smell propaganda like a bloodhound. Anyway, what I'm trying to say in my convoluted, unedited way, is that I believe this is an objectively good book.
There is one magical element to the story, which didn't quite work for me, even though I understood it served a purpose and added a bit of quirk to a bleak story.
So, yeah, I'm glad I read Bottled Goods and I'm grateful to Deanna for bringing it to my attention.
I hope this book finds a bigger readership and I'm looking forward to reading more from Sophie van Llewyn (I'm guessing it's a pen name as it's not Romanian in the least).
June 26, 2018
Bottled Goods
is a simple tale of life in the Socialist Republic of Romania during the late 1960s and ‘70s. Or is it? What starts out as the story of schoolgirl Alina growing up in Bucharest with her somewhat eccentric family morphs perplexingly into full-blown magical realism three-quarters of the way through, after which elements become unexpectedly surreal.
Alina is a twentysomething school teacher when she and her husband Liviu find themselves of significant interest to Ceaușescu’s secret police following his brother’s defection to the West. To make matters worse, Alina attempts to protect one of her pupils spotted with a contraband magazine and is reported to the authorities for doing so. Suddenly the bad coffee and black-market apple strudels seem insignificant trifles when compared to being persona non grata with the regime, former-friends, neighbours and colleagues – and the situation isn’t alleviated by Alina’s self-centred, interfering mother, who has never approved of her daughter’s marriage to a peasant boy.
Bottled Goods is part of the Fairlight Moderns series, which aims to introduce readers to modern literary fiction from different parts of the world via an ever-expanding collection of multi-genre novellas. Printed in smaller format and with striking jacket covers created by Sara Wood and illustrated by Sam Kalda, these appealing little books are designed to be convenient travelling reads and will make ideal book club choices for those seeking contemporary themes combined with quality writing.
Sophie van Llewyn was born in south-eastern Romania but now lives in Germany. She has previously won awards for her flash fiction and short stories. In this, her “debut long fiction work”, she has created a chilling piece of absurdist fiction, which (often comically) depicts the depressing and troubled lives of those attempting to subsist under the constant scrutiny of a distrustful authoritarian state.
Alina is a twentysomething school teacher when she and her husband Liviu find themselves of significant interest to Ceaușescu’s secret police following his brother’s defection to the West. To make matters worse, Alina attempts to protect one of her pupils spotted with a contraband magazine and is reported to the authorities for doing so. Suddenly the bad coffee and black-market apple strudels seem insignificant trifles when compared to being persona non grata with the regime, former-friends, neighbours and colleagues – and the situation isn’t alleviated by Alina’s self-centred, interfering mother, who has never approved of her daughter’s marriage to a peasant boy.
Bottled Goods is part of the Fairlight Moderns series, which aims to introduce readers to modern literary fiction from different parts of the world via an ever-expanding collection of multi-genre novellas. Printed in smaller format and with striking jacket covers created by Sara Wood and illustrated by Sam Kalda, these appealing little books are designed to be convenient travelling reads and will make ideal book club choices for those seeking contemporary themes combined with quality writing.
Sophie van Llewyn was born in south-eastern Romania but now lives in Germany. She has previously won awards for her flash fiction and short stories. In this, her “debut long fiction work”, she has created a chilling piece of absurdist fiction, which (often comically) depicts the depressing and troubled lives of those attempting to subsist under the constant scrutiny of a distrustful authoritarian state.
“To my father and the heroes of the Romanian Revolution of 1989.”Many thanks to Fairlight Books for providing an advance review copy of this title.
April 29, 2019
This novel is the first by flash fiction author van Llewyn. I wasn't familiar with the genre but after reading this novel, I'm a fan. The story is set in Romania in the era of Ceausescu. It is the era of the Iron Curtain and a communist dictatorship. The mood of the novel is at times bleak. Alina is a teacher and is under investigation, and constant harassment, for allegedly not reporting who student who brought contraband to school. Her brother-in-law defects which causes further problems especially with her husband, Liviu. The atmosphere ranges from oppressive to magical. Romania is a country still full of folk traditions, and belief in spirits. Alina maintains a spirit that is remarkable considering her surroundings. Van Llewyn's simple prose is exquisite and made this book a marvel. Read this gem of a book!
March 5, 2019
Right from the first chapter the reader is left with no doubt that this book is steeped in magical realism. Alina is on her way to bury her Grandfather who was shrunk by her Grandmother to escape capture when the communists took over Romania. It’s as if the author, Sophia van Llewyn, is saying, if you don’t like magical realism then get out now.
Alina is twenty years old, a teacher, living in Communist Romania. The year is 1967. The Cold War is still encasing the country in ice. Things start to go wrong for Alina when her husband’s brother defects to France. Soon two Secret Service agents arrive and take her husband away for three days. Alina, especially after the episode with her husband, realises she should have known better when one day she turns a blind eye to one of her pupils having a magazine which is prohibited by the government. Another pupil points the magazine out to Alina and she still ignores them. She realises the severity of her mistake when a Secret Service agent turns up at her home. The reader is given a sense of what it must have been like living in a communist country during the Cold War. The anxious, claustrophobic feeling that anybody could be an informant and that you must stop and filter everything you say would have been horrible. The isolation experienced once there is even the slightest hint that you are on the list of people that the Secret Service is watching. Suddenly your friends don’t return your calls, your work colleagues no longer have lunch with you, you have become a social pariah. Alina hates living like this, cannot live like this. It is slowly destroying her. She must escape this life. The question is how?
This is a very short novel with a strange structure. Some chapters are lists with points of things that Alina feels she should or should not do with regards to various problems. For the most it works well. A novel way of delivering Alina’s thoughts to the reader while also informing the reader of some of the taboo activities in the Communist country. There is some great writing. “Every time the Secret Service man comes, she waits for the sword to fall and cut deep, but this is not his weapon of choice. He squeezes the air out of her lungs little by little, tightening her chest with menaces”, passages such as this show that this author has talent. This novel has been described as a novella in flash fiction. It is short in length and some chapters are only a page long, but I found this worked well and gave the book a frantic pace, which suited the narrative of Alina and her husband trying to escape Romania. I enjoyed this novel and although it would have been hard in such a short book, I would have liked to have seen the character of the Auntie fleshed out. Upon finishing, I thought that the choice of title for the book was brilliant. It’s impressive for a debut. 4 Stars.
Alina is twenty years old, a teacher, living in Communist Romania. The year is 1967. The Cold War is still encasing the country in ice. Things start to go wrong for Alina when her husband’s brother defects to France. Soon two Secret Service agents arrive and take her husband away for three days. Alina, especially after the episode with her husband, realises she should have known better when one day she turns a blind eye to one of her pupils having a magazine which is prohibited by the government. Another pupil points the magazine out to Alina and she still ignores them. She realises the severity of her mistake when a Secret Service agent turns up at her home. The reader is given a sense of what it must have been like living in a communist country during the Cold War. The anxious, claustrophobic feeling that anybody could be an informant and that you must stop and filter everything you say would have been horrible. The isolation experienced once there is even the slightest hint that you are on the list of people that the Secret Service is watching. Suddenly your friends don’t return your calls, your work colleagues no longer have lunch with you, you have become a social pariah. Alina hates living like this, cannot live like this. It is slowly destroying her. She must escape this life. The question is how?
This is a very short novel with a strange structure. Some chapters are lists with points of things that Alina feels she should or should not do with regards to various problems. For the most it works well. A novel way of delivering Alina’s thoughts to the reader while also informing the reader of some of the taboo activities in the Communist country. There is some great writing. “Every time the Secret Service man comes, she waits for the sword to fall and cut deep, but this is not his weapon of choice. He squeezes the air out of her lungs little by little, tightening her chest with menaces”, passages such as this show that this author has talent. This novel has been described as a novella in flash fiction. It is short in length and some chapters are only a page long, but I found this worked well and gave the book a frantic pace, which suited the narrative of Alina and her husband trying to escape Romania. I enjoyed this novel and although it would have been hard in such a short book, I would have liked to have seen the character of the Auntie fleshed out. Upon finishing, I thought that the choice of title for the book was brilliant. It’s impressive for a debut. 4 Stars.
March 22, 2019
This book is on the long list for Women's Prize for fiction this year, and I'm glad it is. Otherwise I might not even pick it up.
It's the story of Alina, who was living in 1970s Romania under oppressive communist government. Quickly, we're introduced to her husband, mother and aunt, who are the side characters who compliment her story. The main content of the book is to shed light to the difficulties, details and life style of the times in Romania when the government decided how you should live. What you eat, what you drink, where you live, what you can read, all were restricted and almost pre-defined for you. Alina is a bright woman who wanted to go to college, write a book, make a good life for herself, but her plans went all over the place after. In this book, we journey through her life since she gets married till the end of 1990s when she's in her 50s.
I really enjoyed this book for many reasons. I learned more about that part of the history in Romania, that I didn't know. The writing was weirdly unique and pulled me in to read about Alina. Although it was told from third person narrative, Alina was given a very clear voice and her character development was superb. I felt her growing out of a young, naive girl believing in love, to a mature woman who knows what she wants.
The book was difficult at times, as oppression is not an easy thing to endure when it's excessive. But, I thought it was handled gracefully without grim details and making me cringe.
Another impressive detail in writing was the addition of traditions and folkloric elements of Romanian culture. There was also a touch of magical realism, integrated in the story so very well. I admired how the writer integrated all those things step by step in a book under 200 pages.
The length of the book was perfect as well.
So, all in all, I loved the book. I will definitely follow the writer in the future. I'd recommend this book to people who love to read about historical fiction, who love to read about different cultures and societies, politics, impact on politics on normal lives.
It's the story of Alina, who was living in 1970s Romania under oppressive communist government. Quickly, we're introduced to her husband, mother and aunt, who are the side characters who compliment her story. The main content of the book is to shed light to the difficulties, details and life style of the times in Romania when the government decided how you should live. What you eat, what you drink, where you live, what you can read, all were restricted and almost pre-defined for you. Alina is a bright woman who wanted to go to college, write a book, make a good life for herself, but her plans went all over the place after. In this book, we journey through her life since she gets married till the end of 1990s when she's in her 50s.
I really enjoyed this book for many reasons. I learned more about that part of the history in Romania, that I didn't know. The writing was weirdly unique and pulled me in to read about Alina. Although it was told from third person narrative, Alina was given a very clear voice and her character development was superb. I felt her growing out of a young, naive girl believing in love, to a mature woman who knows what she wants.
The book was difficult at times, as oppression is not an easy thing to endure when it's excessive. But, I thought it was handled gracefully without grim details and making me cringe.
Another impressive detail in writing was the addition of traditions and folkloric elements of Romanian culture. There was also a touch of magical realism, integrated in the story so very well. I admired how the writer integrated all those things step by step in a book under 200 pages.
The length of the book was perfect as well.
So, all in all, I loved the book. I will definitely follow the writer in the future. I'd recommend this book to people who love to read about historical fiction, who love to read about different cultures and societies, politics, impact on politics on normal lives.
March 22, 2019
This collection of flash fiction creates a story of oppression in 1970s Romania. Alina is a young wife and teacher. When her brother-in-law defects to France, she and her husband come under close scrutiny of the government. Told through multiple linked vignettes, together they create a darkly humorous and frightening tale. 3.5⭐️
November 6, 2025
en sevdiğim şey hiç beklemezken (genelde her yerde övülen kitaplardan uzak durduğum için) ve kimselerden pek duymamışken kendi kendime nefis bir kitap keşfetmek.
işte yine bundan oldu. dedalus’tan bir şey okuyayım diyip dururken, seda çıngay mellor’un çevirdiği “şişeye tıkılan şeyler”i öylesine elime aldım -aslında seda olduğu için beklentim daha büyük olmalıydı zaten- ve elimden bırakamadım.
1960’lardan 90’lara, sosyalist romanya’dan batı almanya’ya, aşk hikâyesinden ayrılığa alina’nın ana karakter olduğu, teyzelerden, annelerden, küçültülmüş dedelerden, muhbir vatandaşlardan persona non grata’ya…
bugün o günlere özlem duyan sosyalistler tarafından yazarı eleştirecek denli korkunç ayrıntılar var evet ama maalesef bunlar yaşandı ve saklamamak, yazmak liberal dünyaya hizmet etmek olmuyor.
hele bir kadın olarak yaşananlar… dün kitabı bitirdiğimde allah tüm sistemlerin, erkeklerin, her şeyin belasını versin modundaydım. ama her şeye rağmen sophie van llewyn bunları çok hoş bir mizah duygusuyla anlatıyor. o hava ağırlaşıyor ağırlaşıyor ama bir bakıyorsunuz kahkaha atmışsınız.
farklı biçemi, teknikleri, anlatım biçimiyle yaratıcı, anlattıklarıyla “yalan dolan”a çok benzettiğim bu roman hakkında daha yazacağım. ve tabii ki seda her zamanki gibi yazarın sesini bizim için bulmuş.
işte yine bundan oldu. dedalus’tan bir şey okuyayım diyip dururken, seda çıngay mellor’un çevirdiği “şişeye tıkılan şeyler”i öylesine elime aldım -aslında seda olduğu için beklentim daha büyük olmalıydı zaten- ve elimden bırakamadım.
1960’lardan 90’lara, sosyalist romanya’dan batı almanya’ya, aşk hikâyesinden ayrılığa alina’nın ana karakter olduğu, teyzelerden, annelerden, küçültülmüş dedelerden, muhbir vatandaşlardan persona non grata’ya…
bugün o günlere özlem duyan sosyalistler tarafından yazarı eleştirecek denli korkunç ayrıntılar var evet ama maalesef bunlar yaşandı ve saklamamak, yazmak liberal dünyaya hizmet etmek olmuyor.
hele bir kadın olarak yaşananlar… dün kitabı bitirdiğimde allah tüm sistemlerin, erkeklerin, her şeyin belasını versin modundaydım. ama her şeye rağmen sophie van llewyn bunları çok hoş bir mizah duygusuyla anlatıyor. o hava ağırlaşıyor ağırlaşıyor ama bir bakıyorsunuz kahkaha atmışsınız.
farklı biçemi, teknikleri, anlatım biçimiyle yaratıcı, anlattıklarıyla “yalan dolan”a çok benzettiğim bu roman hakkında daha yazacağım. ve tabii ki seda her zamanki gibi yazarın sesini bizim için bulmuş.
April 2, 2019
LONGLISTED FOR WOMEN’S PRIZE IN FICTION
BOOK 10 OF 16 READ SO FAR
I was very much enamoured by this short novel about the struggles of a young Romanian wife living under the claustrophobic eyes of the Stalinist regime, perfectly capturing the tone of life during that period and using a dash of magical realism to metaphor the lengths one went to escape. Just as fascinating is how this book was put together, a series of separately written works of flash fiction brought together in this unitary form. In doing so we get writing that plays with form and perspective in a very creative fashion. An excellent debut worth of being longlisted for the Women’s Prize.
BOOK 10 OF 16 READ SO FAR
I was very much enamoured by this short novel about the struggles of a young Romanian wife living under the claustrophobic eyes of the Stalinist regime, perfectly capturing the tone of life during that period and using a dash of magical realism to metaphor the lengths one went to escape. Just as fascinating is how this book was put together, a series of separately written works of flash fiction brought together in this unitary form. In doing so we get writing that plays with form and perspective in a very creative fashion. An excellent debut worth of being longlisted for the Women’s Prize.
May 18, 2019
Like most of my GR friends, I was enticed into reading this slim volume due to its inclusion on both the Women's Prize and RofC longlists... as well as the intriguing cover (the mystical black cat looks a lot like my own Priyanka!). I more or less read it on one sitting, which I think helped - not much to say about the actual storyline; I didn't know a LOT about the Romania/Ceausescu regime, and so I learned a lot in a somewhat 'fun' fashion, which is not something usually associated with the topic. And although not a great fan of magical realism, I thought it worked well here.
March 4, 2019
Now Longlisted for the Women’s Prize 2019!
also Longlisted for the 2019 Republic of Consciousness Prize
The RoC judges' citation:
Sophie van Llewyn was born in Romania and later moved to Germany. Bottled Goods was written in English (as she explains in this interview http://www.fairlightbooks.co.uk/sophi...) and draws on her family’s knowledge of both life and folklore in Romania. As a fan of translated fiction I mean it is as a compliment to the book’s authenticity and ‘other word’ flavour as well as the excellence of the prose that I found myself looking for the translator’s name to compliment him/her in my review.
The publisher describes it as a “novella-in-flash blending magic realism and everyday troubles of Communist Romania,” and it is rather difficult to improve on that description.
Alina is from a rich family, at least rich pre the Communist era, but marries Liviu, a history student from a much poorer background, to her mother’s scorn. When Liviu’s brother defects to the West, their lives, and indeed their marriage, become very difficult and they themselves look for an opportunity to get to the west. Their quest is hindered by her mother’s determination to show loyalty to the regime and disown her landowner roots and yet her contradictory hostility to Alina’s marrying ‘down’. But Alina is aided and abetted by the colourful Aunt Theresa, her mother’s sister, who has connections both within the Romanian secret police but also in the supernatural world of the Sanziene, the fairies.
The novella’s first chapter (or story as it was one of those published stand-alone) at first appears rather anomalous, more of a teenage dream. Set in 1967, Alina is summoned on a trip with her Aunt and two cousins, which transpires to be one to bury the tiny body of her maternal grandfather, a grandfather she was unaware still lived. Aunt Theresa explains:
I suspect your mother never told you about your grandfather,” she says. “He would have liked an open casket. But we never kept him in a cage, you see. He liked to walk around the house. He must have fallen. We searched like crazy, but found him days after he disappeared, between the living room couch and the wall.” A sharp sound, like a banshee shriek, escapes between her sentences. “We found him because of the smell.”
The priest and my cousins are standing next to the little hole in the ground, waiting. She gestures for me to grab the basket, while she extracts the wooden box from the back seat.
“We went to visit your mother once— and she promised that if we ever come to her house again, she’ll tell the authorities where they can find him. The bitch!.” She pauses, caressing the lid of the box like the fur of a beloved pet. “You know what— tell her about this. Tell her she wasn’t invited,” she says.
*
In the car, Aunt Theresa can’t stop speaking. If she stops, she sobs and she must watch the road. Night has fallen.
“It was right after the communists came to power,” she says. “They were after him— your grandfather had been an important member of the Liberal Party. His friends, they all died while digging the Canal. Killed, beaten, tortured. What was my mother to do? She did what she could, God bless her soul. She shrunk him. Your mother— she wanted to have nothing to do with him. Nothing.” Her voice rises in the cigarette smoke that’s clouding the interior of the Volga. “She never came to see him— not even once. The idiot. How he missed her!”
The smell of putrefaction lingers in the overheated car. I mean to ask how my grandmother shrunk him, but I’m too afraid to interrupt.
But this tale becomes increasingly real as the novella progresses and Van Llewyn cleverly brings the novel full circle.
Stylistically the story is told via (At a quick count) 51 pieces of flash fiction over 190 pages, in a variety of styles and narrated in the first, second and third person. The pieces could stand alone, indeed several have been published independently (see https://sophievanllewyn.com/publicati...) but are presented linearly so as to provide a consistent narrative arc that takes us through Alina’s life from, childhood up and until well after she leaves the country and the later fall of the Communist regime, which she witnesses on TV from exile. The flash form gives the narration an energy and immediacy, which is particularly effective where there are jumps in time between chapters.
Overall a quick but very different and highly worthwhile read.
also Longlisted for the 2019 Republic of Consciousness Prize
The RoC judges' citation:
This time last year, Fairlight Books announced its arrival on the small press scene with the beautifully designed Fairlight Moderns. Its first submission is Bottled Goods: a wholly successful attempt at creating novel(la)-length flash fiction. An assured debut which is part-absurdist, part-thriller, part-social realism. If you’re looking for intrigue, psychological depth and the darkly comic in a book that can be read in one hour, this is for you.Small independent publisher Fairlight Books has, in their words, “one aim – to celebrate quality writing and promote the best of new and contemporary literary fiction,” and their Fairlight Moderns series is a new collection of short modern fictions from around the world.
Sophie van Llewyn was born in Romania and later moved to Germany. Bottled Goods was written in English (as she explains in this interview http://www.fairlightbooks.co.uk/sophi...) and draws on her family’s knowledge of both life and folklore in Romania. As a fan of translated fiction I mean it is as a compliment to the book’s authenticity and ‘other word’ flavour as well as the excellence of the prose that I found myself looking for the translator’s name to compliment him/her in my review.
The publisher describes it as a “novella-in-flash blending magic realism and everyday troubles of Communist Romania,” and it is rather difficult to improve on that description.
Alina is from a rich family, at least rich pre the Communist era, but marries Liviu, a history student from a much poorer background, to her mother’s scorn. When Liviu’s brother defects to the West, their lives, and indeed their marriage, become very difficult and they themselves look for an opportunity to get to the west. Their quest is hindered by her mother’s determination to show loyalty to the regime and disown her landowner roots and yet her contradictory hostility to Alina’s marrying ‘down’. But Alina is aided and abetted by the colourful Aunt Theresa, her mother’s sister, who has connections both within the Romanian secret police but also in the supernatural world of the Sanziene, the fairies.
The novella’s first chapter (or story as it was one of those published stand-alone) at first appears rather anomalous, more of a teenage dream. Set in 1967, Alina is summoned on a trip with her Aunt and two cousins, which transpires to be one to bury the tiny body of her maternal grandfather, a grandfather she was unaware still lived. Aunt Theresa explains:
I suspect your mother never told you about your grandfather,” she says. “He would have liked an open casket. But we never kept him in a cage, you see. He liked to walk around the house. He must have fallen. We searched like crazy, but found him days after he disappeared, between the living room couch and the wall.” A sharp sound, like a banshee shriek, escapes between her sentences. “We found him because of the smell.”
The priest and my cousins are standing next to the little hole in the ground, waiting. She gestures for me to grab the basket, while she extracts the wooden box from the back seat.
“We went to visit your mother once— and she promised that if we ever come to her house again, she’ll tell the authorities where they can find him. The bitch!.” She pauses, caressing the lid of the box like the fur of a beloved pet. “You know what— tell her about this. Tell her she wasn’t invited,” she says.
*
In the car, Aunt Theresa can’t stop speaking. If she stops, she sobs and she must watch the road. Night has fallen.
“It was right after the communists came to power,” she says. “They were after him— your grandfather had been an important member of the Liberal Party. His friends, they all died while digging the Canal. Killed, beaten, tortured. What was my mother to do? She did what she could, God bless her soul. She shrunk him. Your mother— she wanted to have nothing to do with him. Nothing.” Her voice rises in the cigarette smoke that’s clouding the interior of the Volga. “She never came to see him— not even once. The idiot. How he missed her!”
The smell of putrefaction lingers in the overheated car. I mean to ask how my grandmother shrunk him, but I’m too afraid to interrupt.
But this tale becomes increasingly real as the novella progresses and Van Llewyn cleverly brings the novel full circle.
Stylistically the story is told via (At a quick count) 51 pieces of flash fiction over 190 pages, in a variety of styles and narrated in the first, second and third person. The pieces could stand alone, indeed several have been published independently (see https://sophievanllewyn.com/publicati...) but are presented linearly so as to provide a consistent narrative arc that takes us through Alina’s life from, childhood up and until well after she leaves the country and the later fall of the Communist regime, which she witnesses on TV from exile. The flash form gives the narration an energy and immediacy, which is particularly effective where there are jumps in time between chapters.
Overall a quick but very different and highly worthwhile read.
April 17, 2019
The short punchy chapters which make up Sophie Van Llewyn's “Bottled Goods” have the feel of flash fiction. They are a sequence of snippets (usually in the form of diary entries or lists) in its protagonist Alina's life within communist Romania. Together they form a portrait of this period of the 1970s rife with paranoia and fear of the secret services. In this hostile environment Alina can't even trust her mother. Like in the novel “Milkman” it's best to go unnoticed in this fractured society. But both Alina and her husband Liviu come under suspicion when his brother defects to the West. Their relationship comes under strain as they feel pressure from the government and need to take radical measures to survive. While I appreciated the way this novel in pieces tried to create an impression of Alina's experience in an oppressive place, the novel didn't quite come together to me as it rushed over some emotionally complex situations and the fantastical elements of the story felt tacked on.
Read my full review of Bottled Goods by Sophie Van Llewyn on LonesomeReader
Read my full review of Bottled Goods by Sophie Van Llewyn on LonesomeReader
December 27, 2020
L’autrice racconta la vita di una giovane coppia nella Romania di Ceausescu in 51 brevi capitoli in cui l’oppressione del regime, la privazione della libertà, il trattamento riservato ai dissidenti entrano a far parte della quotidianità, senza scalfire la decisione dei due protagonisti, Alina e Liviu, di non rinunciare ai propri sogni e a fuggire dal paese. Capitoli brevi da cui emergono frammenti di vita, gesti, ironia e credenze popolari, in un alternarsi di toni - da realistico a magico a cupo - che rende la lettura estremamente piacevole e sottolinea l’importanza della lotta per la libertà.
May 11, 2019
‘’Please make me a child again. A teenager. A student. A girl who hasn’t lost her father yet or her romantic views concerning the world, poverty, kindness, a parent’s love.’’
“Freedom is not something that anybody can be given,” James Baldwin wrote while contemplating the manner in which we imprison ourselves, “freedom is something people take and people are as free as they want to be.” In other words, the idea of freedom is not absolute. Rather, it exists as a relative entity, guarded by its own whims and fancies. This notion of freedom becomes even more vulnerable during times of personal and political turbulence, when one's desire to embrace freedom might simply mean submitting oneself to a relatively better, less traumatizing imprisonment.
A first glance at this slender, nonchalant novella of seeming alacrity is severely deceptive, for its apparent accessibility belies the immense weight of the ideological, social, economic, political, and psychological forces that define its demeanor. At the same time, it is also a repository of the relentless, thudding melancholy of the human emotions of anxiety, fear, grief, loss, despair and spiritual ennui that are diagnostic of war-trampled society.
Set in the communist Romania under Ceaușescu in the 1970s, Sophie van Llewyn's debut offering Bottled Goods is a collection of 51 mismatched stories, some contemplative, some factual, most meandering in between, narrating the story of Alina, whose life is embroiled in a constant tussle between a desire for affinity to a life that she deserves and a longing for an alienating otherness characteristic of the existential tumult of a postmodern world.
Alina's troubled relationship with her mother, an irate professional undertaking, and a lifeless, robotic relationship with her husband Liviu are perilously set against the backdrop of an immensely oppressive, stifling and surveilling communist regime. Her threadbare relationship with Liviu becomes even more vitriolic when her brother-in-law decides to defect to the West, an act that forces the couple to subject itself to the exasperatingly humiliating situations set by the authorities that demand them to prove the loyalty to their motherland. Their panoptic gaze begins to ruthlessly monitor every private and social moments of their lives in an effort to extract a confession out of them.
Ostracized by people who begin to regard them as a traitors, and cleaved from aspirations they held dear, Alina and Liviu are reduced from cheerful, hopeful and promising individuals to treasonous cogs in the wheel, a vexatious, rough-edged fester disrupting the genteel contours of order and subservience.
Sophie van Llewyn's prose is supremely atmospheric and starkly eloquent, its staccato rhythm complementing the incoherent texture of the lives of the protagonists. Her writing voice is extremely experimental, deftly combining realism with Romanian folklore and magic realism to lend a surreal gravity to a historical fragment that was equally absurd. The hasty shifts and turns of tone and subject in each chapter readers are a grim reminder of the extraordinary macabre surrounding the lives of individuals who are forced to confront the realization that the waxy uncertainties and the annihilating horror of their lives are not passing moments, but quotidian fixtures.
Bottled Goods is a powerful, haunting narration of the clash between the personal and the political, freedom and security, magical and the banal, and the wry futility of lives that are caught withing their folds.
“Freedom is not something that anybody can be given,” James Baldwin wrote while contemplating the manner in which we imprison ourselves, “freedom is something people take and people are as free as they want to be.” In other words, the idea of freedom is not absolute. Rather, it exists as a relative entity, guarded by its own whims and fancies. This notion of freedom becomes even more vulnerable during times of personal and political turbulence, when one's desire to embrace freedom might simply mean submitting oneself to a relatively better, less traumatizing imprisonment.
A first glance at this slender, nonchalant novella of seeming alacrity is severely deceptive, for its apparent accessibility belies the immense weight of the ideological, social, economic, political, and psychological forces that define its demeanor. At the same time, it is also a repository of the relentless, thudding melancholy of the human emotions of anxiety, fear, grief, loss, despair and spiritual ennui that are diagnostic of war-trampled society.
Set in the communist Romania under Ceaușescu in the 1970s, Sophie van Llewyn's debut offering Bottled Goods is a collection of 51 mismatched stories, some contemplative, some factual, most meandering in between, narrating the story of Alina, whose life is embroiled in a constant tussle between a desire for affinity to a life that she deserves and a longing for an alienating otherness characteristic of the existential tumult of a postmodern world.
Alina's troubled relationship with her mother, an irate professional undertaking, and a lifeless, robotic relationship with her husband Liviu are perilously set against the backdrop of an immensely oppressive, stifling and surveilling communist regime. Her threadbare relationship with Liviu becomes even more vitriolic when her brother-in-law decides to defect to the West, an act that forces the couple to subject itself to the exasperatingly humiliating situations set by the authorities that demand them to prove the loyalty to their motherland. Their panoptic gaze begins to ruthlessly monitor every private and social moments of their lives in an effort to extract a confession out of them.
Ostracized by people who begin to regard them as a traitors, and cleaved from aspirations they held dear, Alina and Liviu are reduced from cheerful, hopeful and promising individuals to treasonous cogs in the wheel, a vexatious, rough-edged fester disrupting the genteel contours of order and subservience.
Sophie van Llewyn's prose is supremely atmospheric and starkly eloquent, its staccato rhythm complementing the incoherent texture of the lives of the protagonists. Her writing voice is extremely experimental, deftly combining realism with Romanian folklore and magic realism to lend a surreal gravity to a historical fragment that was equally absurd. The hasty shifts and turns of tone and subject in each chapter readers are a grim reminder of the extraordinary macabre surrounding the lives of individuals who are forced to confront the realization that the waxy uncertainties and the annihilating horror of their lives are not passing moments, but quotidian fixtures.
Bottled Goods is a powerful, haunting narration of the clash between the personal and the political, freedom and security, magical and the banal, and the wry futility of lives that are caught withing their folds.
April 24, 2019
Read my interview with Sophie here
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Romanian readers might feel that Sophie ticked all the necessary boxes in terms of life under communism, and it might sound like yet another book about the old regime, however—and this is tricky and innovative, hats off to Sophie—once the magical realism kicks in, the book is not what you expect anymore.
What made the book interesting for me, as someone who lived under the regime and is not surprised by the actual facts, was the form—the novella reads like a series of flash fiction stories— mixed with whimsical, folky elements.
How this book is going to compete against the other longlisted books for Women’s Prize for Fiction is yet to be seen, but I’m glad it’s there. Standing among so many talented and established writers is an accomplishment in itself, great job!
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Romanian readers might feel that Sophie ticked all the necessary boxes in terms of life under communism, and it might sound like yet another book about the old regime, however—and this is tricky and innovative, hats off to Sophie—once the magical realism kicks in, the book is not what you expect anymore.
What made the book interesting for me, as someone who lived under the regime and is not surprised by the actual facts, was the form—the novella reads like a series of flash fiction stories— mixed with whimsical, folky elements.
How this book is going to compete against the other longlisted books for Women’s Prize for Fiction is yet to be seen, but I’m glad it’s there. Standing among so many talented and established writers is an accomplishment in itself, great job!
February 22, 2019
Bottled Goods is described as a novella in flash fiction. It is structured in short chapters with each offering a window into everyday life in Romania under Ceaușescu. The plot moves forward apace.
The protagonist is a young woman named Alina whose wealthy family lost their land to the communist government before she was born. Her mother is an apparent zealot for the regime, although this may be her way of retaining control over her daughter who has a tendency to dream of fulfilling yearnings of her own. Alina’s aunt, Theresa, has influential connections through her marriage and uses these to help her niece when she can.
Alina marries Liviu against her mother’s wishes. For all her communist ideals, Mother continues to regard her new son-in-law as a peasant. Refusing to help the newly weds who have defied her, their early married life is made more difficult than it needed to be. Alina resents that she must take a low paid job as a teacher to enable her husband to finish college, something she was thereby unable to achieve.
What hopes the young couple may have had for decent careers, which would have made life a little easier, are shattered when Liviu’s brother defects. This action brings his wider family under scrutiny from officials tasked with ensuring all comrades adhere to party diktats. Liviu is called in for questioning and then reassigned to work in a remote and difficult location. When Alina overlooks a breach of protocol by one of her students she too suffers the close attention of party officials. The couple now live in fear of more serious punishment, putting their marriage under greater strain.
The portrait of life under such a controlling government is cogently enraging to read. Alina must also live with the fear of betrayal from colleagues and even family who would be rewarded for providing information. Alina understands that her mother is selfish and desires a compliant daughter who puts the mother’s needs and wishes before her own. She struggles to accept that any parent would sacrifice a child as punishment for daring to try for a better way of life that does not include them.
Alina turns to Theresa for help and is offered a solution that requires a step of faith. As with any advantage gleaned in this country it comes at a cost, including the weight of guilt.
This is impressive storytelling with fully three dimensional scenes packed into each short segment. The characters appear rounded and real with their varied traits and behaviours. Communist Romania is as much a character as any of its people. The story has depth and passion whilst retaining flow and an engaging tension.
Despite the frustration and despair I felt at Alina’s treatment this was an historically fascinating tale. The unusual structure was harnessed with skill and then worked superbly to build empathy. There are magical elements which could be taken at face value or accepted as metaphors that offer further details to consider.
Alina is presented as a far from perfect individual with her trials providing a foundation for portraying the realities of life under a closed, communist dictatorship. Written with flair and precision this is an immersive and compelling read.
The protagonist is a young woman named Alina whose wealthy family lost their land to the communist government before she was born. Her mother is an apparent zealot for the regime, although this may be her way of retaining control over her daughter who has a tendency to dream of fulfilling yearnings of her own. Alina’s aunt, Theresa, has influential connections through her marriage and uses these to help her niece when she can.
Alina marries Liviu against her mother’s wishes. For all her communist ideals, Mother continues to regard her new son-in-law as a peasant. Refusing to help the newly weds who have defied her, their early married life is made more difficult than it needed to be. Alina resents that she must take a low paid job as a teacher to enable her husband to finish college, something she was thereby unable to achieve.
What hopes the young couple may have had for decent careers, which would have made life a little easier, are shattered when Liviu’s brother defects. This action brings his wider family under scrutiny from officials tasked with ensuring all comrades adhere to party diktats. Liviu is called in for questioning and then reassigned to work in a remote and difficult location. When Alina overlooks a breach of protocol by one of her students she too suffers the close attention of party officials. The couple now live in fear of more serious punishment, putting their marriage under greater strain.
The portrait of life under such a controlling government is cogently enraging to read. Alina must also live with the fear of betrayal from colleagues and even family who would be rewarded for providing information. Alina understands that her mother is selfish and desires a compliant daughter who puts the mother’s needs and wishes before her own. She struggles to accept that any parent would sacrifice a child as punishment for daring to try for a better way of life that does not include them.
Alina turns to Theresa for help and is offered a solution that requires a step of faith. As with any advantage gleaned in this country it comes at a cost, including the weight of guilt.
This is impressive storytelling with fully three dimensional scenes packed into each short segment. The characters appear rounded and real with their varied traits and behaviours. Communist Romania is as much a character as any of its people. The story has depth and passion whilst retaining flow and an engaging tension.
Despite the frustration and despair I felt at Alina’s treatment this was an historically fascinating tale. The unusual structure was harnessed with skill and then worked superbly to build empathy. There are magical elements which could be taken at face value or accepted as metaphors that offer further details to consider.
Alina is presented as a far from perfect individual with her trials providing a foundation for portraying the realities of life under a closed, communist dictatorship. Written with flair and precision this is an immersive and compelling read.
March 25, 2019
[4.25*]
I am very impressed by this book and its author. Its unusual structure of interconnected flash fiction pieces ensures that each piece packs a punch both in relation to the whole and as a separate entity. It is creative but not exhausting in its creativity. Besides that, Sophie van Llewyn gets extra points for writing beautifully in the language that is not her first.
Two themes are important here. Obviously, the theme of repression and oppression, not so much physical but rather mental (although both are present), which I think is closely related to what Anna Burns explored in Milkman. The other theme is what we owe to a parent who does not have our best interest at heart. These two themes are, of course, interconnected. What do we owe to the parent who oppresses and manipulates and what do we owe to the state that does the same? While it might be physically harder to break away from the state it is often mentally harder to break away from a parent.
Here is a short interview with Sophie, starting from about 6:10 for about 10 minutes and with some small portions within the rest of the program.
I am very impressed by this book and its author. Its unusual structure of interconnected flash fiction pieces ensures that each piece packs a punch both in relation to the whole and as a separate entity. It is creative but not exhausting in its creativity. Besides that, Sophie van Llewyn gets extra points for writing beautifully in the language that is not her first.
Two themes are important here. Obviously, the theme of repression and oppression, not so much physical but rather mental (although both are present), which I think is closely related to what Anna Burns explored in Milkman. The other theme is what we owe to a parent who does not have our best interest at heart. These two themes are, of course, interconnected. What do we owe to the parent who oppresses and manipulates and what do we owe to the state that does the same? While it might be physically harder to break away from the state it is often mentally harder to break away from a parent.
Here is a short interview with Sophie, starting from about 6:10 for about 10 minutes and with some small portions within the rest of the program.
Read
May 14, 2019What a weird, bleak little book. It has a sort of off-kilter power to it, but ultimately reads more like connected flash fiction than a cohesive novel.
October 19, 2025
Romanın parçalı anlatımını ve atmosferini çok beğendim. Kısa kısa bölümlerle ilerlemesine (kesintiye uğramasına) rağmen tansiyon hiç düşmüyor; tam tersine, her kırpılmış sahneyle baskı hissi biraz daha artıyor. 1970’ler Romanya’sının o kasvetli, her an bir şey olacakmış gerginliğini çok iyi vermiş yazar. Alina’nın hikayesi hem bireysel hem politik anlamda daralan bir dünyanın içine sıkışmanın romanı gibi. Anlatım biçimi ilk başta riskli gibi görünse de burada tam tersine çok işe yaramış. Baştan sona etkileyici bir atmosfer var. Hele bir ilk roman olduğu düşünülürse bayağı iyi.
July 19, 2019
I'm finding this one difficult to rate and review, because it was unlike anything I've ever read before. On reflection, I feel that the use of the "flash fiction" style (which I'd never encountered before) was successful with this material - rather than a traditional narrative, the chapters comprised standalone vignettes set at various points along the timeline of the story. Indeed, several of the chapters contained within "Bottled Goods" have previously been published individually as short pieces.
I recall hearing about and watching footage of the fall of the totalitarian Ceaușescu regime when I was a teenager at the end of 1989. Coming only 6 months after the Tiananmen Square massacre in Beijing, it was horrifying to see civilians again being fired upon indiscriminately. Equally heartbreaking were the images coming out of Romania in the aftermath of the revolution, detailing the desperate circumstances in which many Romanian citizens had been living under Ceaușescu and the crowded orphanages, full of abandoned and neglected children and babies.
The story contained within "Bottled Goods" takes place more than a decade earlier, during the height of Communist Rule. Alina and her husband attract the notice of the Secret Police after his brother defects to the West. The situation worsens when Alina, a teacher, turns a blind eye to a young pupil bringing a forbidden Western comic book to school, and is reported by another student. Alina and her husband decide that their only chance of a future is to defect themselves, and start making plans to disappear during a "research tour" to Germany. Unfortunately, Alina's mother is so desperate to stop her leaving that she threatens to turn them in to the Secret Police, even if this means that they'll be imprisoned, brutalised or worse.
From this point in the storyline, the magical realism element kicks in, as Alina seeks the assistance of her well-connected but somewhat mysterious Aunt, who suggests an unorthodox solution to the problem... readers will really need to suspend their disbelief during the last one-third of the novel. The "Bottled Goods" of the title do not refer to jams or chutneys.
For me, this one falls between a solid three stars and a tenuous four. I certainly found the characters engaging, particularly the central character Alina and her fabulous Aunt Theresa. There were many similarities in theme evident between this and Anna Burns's "Milkman", both stories exploring the experience of a young woman navigating a society where to attract attention is to court danger. The flash fiction style could have left the novel feeling disjointed, but I felt there was a clear narrative arc and I enjoyed the forays into Alina's obsessive list-making and several Romanian folk-tales.
Recommended for those willing to try something unusual and a little mind-spinning.
I recall hearing about and watching footage of the fall of the totalitarian Ceaușescu regime when I was a teenager at the end of 1989. Coming only 6 months after the Tiananmen Square massacre in Beijing, it was horrifying to see civilians again being fired upon indiscriminately. Equally heartbreaking were the images coming out of Romania in the aftermath of the revolution, detailing the desperate circumstances in which many Romanian citizens had been living under Ceaușescu and the crowded orphanages, full of abandoned and neglected children and babies.
The story contained within "Bottled Goods" takes place more than a decade earlier, during the height of Communist Rule. Alina and her husband attract the notice of the Secret Police after his brother defects to the West. The situation worsens when Alina, a teacher, turns a blind eye to a young pupil bringing a forbidden Western comic book to school, and is reported by another student. Alina and her husband decide that their only chance of a future is to defect themselves, and start making plans to disappear during a "research tour" to Germany. Unfortunately, Alina's mother is so desperate to stop her leaving that she threatens to turn them in to the Secret Police, even if this means that they'll be imprisoned, brutalised or worse.
From this point in the storyline, the magical realism element kicks in, as Alina seeks the assistance of her well-connected but somewhat mysterious Aunt, who suggests an unorthodox solution to the problem... readers will really need to suspend their disbelief during the last one-third of the novel. The "Bottled Goods" of the title do not refer to jams or chutneys.
For me, this one falls between a solid three stars and a tenuous four. I certainly found the characters engaging, particularly the central character Alina and her fabulous Aunt Theresa. There were many similarities in theme evident between this and Anna Burns's "Milkman", both stories exploring the experience of a young woman navigating a society where to attract attention is to court danger. The flash fiction style could have left the novel feeling disjointed, but I felt there was a clear narrative arc and I enjoyed the forays into Alina's obsessive list-making and several Romanian folk-tales.
Recommended for those willing to try something unusual and a little mind-spinning.
January 21, 2026
Nu îmi vine să cred ce turnură ia cartea asta la final. 😐 Având în vedere că a fost scrisă în limba engleză și că a primit atât de multe premii, sunt foarte curioasă ce au înțeles străinii din trecutul nostru comunist. Mi s-a părut că la final autoarea a încercat să ironizeze cumva acele vremuri, dar personajul ales ca "țintă" nu a fost deloc unul inspirat. Iar titlul original, "Bottled Goods", accentuează și mai mult nepotrivirea. Da, ok, realism magic, dar tot nu s-a dus în direcția bună. Cel puțin, în ceea ce mă privește.
May 25, 2020
Bottled Goods is a new way to tell an old story – a story the author poignantly dedicates to the heroes of the 89 Romanian Revolution.
A couple tries to flee a country immersed in a dictatorship where torture, censorship, the petty tyranny of officials, blackmail, and cruelty abounds. Brothers denounce brothers, mothers denounce daughters. Not much is new here. However, Sophie van Llewyn introduces her own twist: a visceral connection between family, magic, and folklore, a sort of Eastern European Magical Realism that really makes the novel special, and that ultimately wraps up the plot. Sophie van Llewyn is a talented writer who writes in a very understated yet clear manner, alternating effortlessly between the first and the third person. I'm looking forward to see what she does next.
A couple tries to flee a country immersed in a dictatorship where torture, censorship, the petty tyranny of officials, blackmail, and cruelty abounds. Brothers denounce brothers, mothers denounce daughters. Not much is new here. However, Sophie van Llewyn introduces her own twist: a visceral connection between family, magic, and folklore, a sort of Eastern European Magical Realism that really makes the novel special, and that ultimately wraps up the plot. Sophie van Llewyn is a talented writer who writes in a very understated yet clear manner, alternating effortlessly between the first and the third person. I'm looking forward to see what she does next.
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