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Jolts
'Unsparing, funny and compelling.These stories will surprise and startle.'
– Wendy Erskine
A return — this seems to be one of the things I'm expected to write about. And now that I return, now that I find myself here, I haven't even left the airport and I'm already toying with the idea of writing a return, perhaps just to surrender.Nine stories. Nine ways of not being at home. Nine confrontations to the limits of fiction and memoir. Jolts is a playful and honest exploration of the joys and sorrows of lives lived in-between places. A collection that travels across time, space, and language, in order to deliver the gospel of the Latin American short story.
'...an author who is a sharp observer and fearless explorer.'
– PANK Magazine
– Wendy Erskine
A return — this seems to be one of the things I'm expected to write about. And now that I return, now that I find myself here, I haven't even left the airport and I'm already toying with the idea of writing a return, perhaps just to surrender.Nine stories. Nine ways of not being at home. Nine confrontations to the limits of fiction and memoir. Jolts is a playful and honest exploration of the joys and sorrows of lives lived in-between places. A collection that travels across time, space, and language, in order to deliver the gospel of the Latin American short story.
'...an author who is a sharp observer and fearless explorer.'
– PANK Magazine
- GenresShort Stories
140 pages, Kindle Edition
Published April 16, 2020
2 people are currently reading
98 people want to read
About the author
Fernando Sdrigotti
15 books18 followersFernando Sdrigotti was born in Rosario, Argentina, in 1977.
His fiction and critical writing has appeared widely online and in print, and has been translated into French, Italian, Turkish, Norwegian and Spanish.
He is the author of Dysfunctional Males, Shitstorm, and Grey Tropic among other titles.
He lives in London.
His fiction and critical writing has appeared widely online and in print, and has been translated into French, Italian, Turkish, Norwegian and Spanish.
He is the author of Dysfunctional Males, Shitstorm, and Grey Tropic among other titles.
He lives in London.
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
June 24, 2020
This collection of short stories is disorienting and grimy, and reading it is like flicking through moments in lives that are on pause, or about to end, or just on the edge of a little bit of excitement.
.
To begin with I thought this book was a look at the weirdest most mundane corners of London, the filthy rooftops and the tiny, extortionate and stretched gardens. Sdrigotti talks about the city everyone loves or loves to hate with the unemotional heart of someone who already loves another place. A feeling I recognise!
.
After reading the final few stories I have realised this vague and unsentimental near-distain isn't only reserved for London. It's for all the cities which draw immigrants away from their home countries to seek employment and success. How similar they all are; how grey. I have never moved countries, but I've uprooted my life and swapped cities several times, and I recognised these feelings deep down. The reality of a place, when the shine you expected never really appears. The self-indulgent anger of knowing you will never really make it after all.
.
Homesickness can turn into fantasy and even lies, and after this odd stretch of lockdown, I can feel a strange connection to missing things I was never really a part of, or drawn to places I didn't really know at all. This is a collection of wonderings and yearnings, drawn from a cynical heart that stopped dreaming of greener grass once it had been worn down by a kitchen scourer.
.
I liked it.
.
To begin with I thought this book was a look at the weirdest most mundane corners of London, the filthy rooftops and the tiny, extortionate and stretched gardens. Sdrigotti talks about the city everyone loves or loves to hate with the unemotional heart of someone who already loves another place. A feeling I recognise!
.
After reading the final few stories I have realised this vague and unsentimental near-distain isn't only reserved for London. It's for all the cities which draw immigrants away from their home countries to seek employment and success. How similar they all are; how grey. I have never moved countries, but I've uprooted my life and swapped cities several times, and I recognised these feelings deep down. The reality of a place, when the shine you expected never really appears. The self-indulgent anger of knowing you will never really make it after all.
.
Homesickness can turn into fantasy and even lies, and after this odd stretch of lockdown, I can feel a strange connection to missing things I was never really a part of, or drawn to places I didn't really know at all. This is a collection of wonderings and yearnings, drawn from a cynical heart that stopped dreaming of greener grass once it had been worn down by a kitchen scourer.
.
I liked it.
July 15, 2020
The first story in this collection jolts between memories of time spent in London, Rosario and Paris. As a train stops outside Clapham Junction, pictures crowd in of friends left behind, mixed with news stories, publishing rejections and a woman who left, before going back to childhood. Those that follow are about the disconnect between places, when where you live now doesn’t match where you are from or where you grew up, and contend with how to live while your head is being bounced back and forth between them.
From socialising above your pay grade in Turkish Delight, to the especially overheated Christmas shopping hell in Methylated Spirits, to chats in the off-licence or kebab shop in Only Up Here and living dangerously by drinking with your landlady, the stories in Jolts show Fernando Sdrigotti’s perceptive eye for modern London life.
The stories also escape from London, as hopes for work in tourism or translation dwindle over the kitchen sink in a Dublin pub, or an awkward afternoon passes with sort-of friends in a nowhere town in The Kid and the Telephone Box. Something About This Summer and The Summer Last Year features a holiday in the years before leaving, before perhaps the ultimate jolt: the long-delayed trip back to Argentina of Notes Towards a Return.
I read the original version of the story called Jolts in 2015 after spending around five years living outside my home country and loved it for its capturing of the way my thoughts jolted, sometimes uncomfortably so, between locations. Fernando Sdrigotti is a writer that I also truly love for capturing London as I lived and messed around in it during the 90s and 00s. Jolts is a great read and I’m sure I won’t be waiting another five years before reading more from this sharply perceptive writer.
Read my full review here on my website ten million hardbacks.
From socialising above your pay grade in Turkish Delight, to the especially overheated Christmas shopping hell in Methylated Spirits, to chats in the off-licence or kebab shop in Only Up Here and living dangerously by drinking with your landlady, the stories in Jolts show Fernando Sdrigotti’s perceptive eye for modern London life.
The stories also escape from London, as hopes for work in tourism or translation dwindle over the kitchen sink in a Dublin pub, or an awkward afternoon passes with sort-of friends in a nowhere town in The Kid and the Telephone Box. Something About This Summer and The Summer Last Year features a holiday in the years before leaving, before perhaps the ultimate jolt: the long-delayed trip back to Argentina of Notes Towards a Return.
I read the original version of the story called Jolts in 2015 after spending around five years living outside my home country and loved it for its capturing of the way my thoughts jolted, sometimes uncomfortably so, between locations. Fernando Sdrigotti is a writer that I also truly love for capturing London as I lived and messed around in it during the 90s and 00s. Jolts is a great read and I’m sure I won’t be waiting another five years before reading more from this sharply perceptive writer.
Read my full review here on my website ten million hardbacks.
May 17, 2020
“I don’t know what I was before; I only know that I became Argentinean abroad”
In 2002 Fernando Sdrigotti fled the economic turmoil of his home country, Argentina, and flew to Dublin where he knew a friend would put him up temporarily. The morning after his arrival in Ireland he started work washing dishes – a kitchen porter job in the canteen of an office building. He spent the next seventeen years moving countries and cities, acquiring the visas and paperwork that would enable him to apply for British citizenship.
Jolts is a collection of nine short stories that offer snapshots of the author’s experiences living in transient places. As with any memoir there are elements of fiction.
“I may be sitting in a café in London reading these words. And I may be trying to figure out what is actually real, and what made-up. Or I may be rejoicing in the uncertainty. Or aware of the fantasy, I might be rejoicing in the fabrication.”
What comes through is a picture of the life of a writer as he attempts to establish himself, and the adaptations he goes through to fit his changing circumstances. There is a great deal of alcohol and drug taking along with anger and cynicism. There is also humour, particularly in the representations of those he meets along the way. The narrator appears to possess a degree of self-assurance that I have observed in others – mainly males – and always perplexes me (that they can be so sure of themselves and their opinions). He is not, however, averse to turning criticisms on himself.
The collection opens with the titular story. This is structured as a series of brief vignettes set across several decades. They help explain why the narrator left Argentina and provide a basis for several episodes recounted in more detail in subsequent stories.
“the piece is called ‘Jolts’ and is precisely about jolts in time and space, about how some of us are more sensitive to fragments and how some of us are more fragmented than the rest, particularly on some days.”
Several of the stories are set in London where the author now lives. In Only Up Here the narrator has quit a bar job and is taking in his surroundings having spent days festering in bed. He shares a studio flat with another guy in similar circumstances. Both have experienced the high of potential change before crashing to inertia from which the narrator is now trying to extricate them.
Turkish Delight portrays a different type of acquaintance. The cash-strapped narrator accepts an invitation to Sunday lunch from a financially successful Englishman who has plans for an afternoon of mutual drinking and drug taking. High on whatever has been snorted, the narrator can suppress his concerns at feeling out of place amongst ‘beautiful people’.
Methylated Spirits is a story about shopping in Sainsburys in the week before Christmas. From the items purchased and the amount spent the reader may assume that the narrator is now doing better financially.
Barbecue and Exhumation in Victoria Park Village is a biting exposé of casual xenophobia that the characters portrayed would probably deny. One is a ‘published author’ with opinions about writers and their road to success. The guests at the barbecue talk condescendingly on many topics, trading insults as competition amongst them builds with alcohol consumption. The narrator observes this group of friends while trying to fit in.
As well as London there are stories set in Dublin, Rome, and a childhood holiday in coastal Argentina. In this latter tale, the narrator is spending a summer with a young friend’s family, to keep the boy company. The montage presented is piercing in its evocation of the ordinary experiences children must suffer at the hands of peers and those charged with their care.
The final story, Notes Towards A Return, is set in Buenos Aires towards the end of the period covered by this memoir.
“Unlike Dublin, Paris, and later London, Buenos Aires was too much for me – I couldn’t tame it, own it, call it my own. I used to spend many a weekend in Buenos Aires but I would spend this time couch surfing, mostly off my head after rock concerts, preparing a landing that never materialised. So I miss the possibility of Buenos Aires.”
The narrator does not return to his hometown, Rosario, on this visit. When friends there express disappointment he stops responding to their messages.
“Others stop replying to my fake apologies. The important part is that a heavy ballast is dropped: we should have stopped talking years ago – we have nothing in common anymore – we were victims of the Dictatorship of Nostalgia that comes with social media.”
Although each story in this collection contains an interesting plot and well developed trajectory, it is the keen observations and elucidation that provide their vigour and entertainment. The writing style and taut structure offer an acutely pertinent if wry portrayal of humanity and their treatment of incomers. Whatever truths are being conveyed about the author’s life, it is as short stories about people’s behaviour that they may be savoured. Whilst I couldn’t empathise with many of the choices made – situations beyond my experience – the first person narrative offers a window into the life of a traveller whose circumstances are more relevant than location.
In 2002 Fernando Sdrigotti fled the economic turmoil of his home country, Argentina, and flew to Dublin where he knew a friend would put him up temporarily. The morning after his arrival in Ireland he started work washing dishes – a kitchen porter job in the canteen of an office building. He spent the next seventeen years moving countries and cities, acquiring the visas and paperwork that would enable him to apply for British citizenship.
Jolts is a collection of nine short stories that offer snapshots of the author’s experiences living in transient places. As with any memoir there are elements of fiction.
“I may be sitting in a café in London reading these words. And I may be trying to figure out what is actually real, and what made-up. Or I may be rejoicing in the uncertainty. Or aware of the fantasy, I might be rejoicing in the fabrication.”
What comes through is a picture of the life of a writer as he attempts to establish himself, and the adaptations he goes through to fit his changing circumstances. There is a great deal of alcohol and drug taking along with anger and cynicism. There is also humour, particularly in the representations of those he meets along the way. The narrator appears to possess a degree of self-assurance that I have observed in others – mainly males – and always perplexes me (that they can be so sure of themselves and their opinions). He is not, however, averse to turning criticisms on himself.
The collection opens with the titular story. This is structured as a series of brief vignettes set across several decades. They help explain why the narrator left Argentina and provide a basis for several episodes recounted in more detail in subsequent stories.
“the piece is called ‘Jolts’ and is precisely about jolts in time and space, about how some of us are more sensitive to fragments and how some of us are more fragmented than the rest, particularly on some days.”
Several of the stories are set in London where the author now lives. In Only Up Here the narrator has quit a bar job and is taking in his surroundings having spent days festering in bed. He shares a studio flat with another guy in similar circumstances. Both have experienced the high of potential change before crashing to inertia from which the narrator is now trying to extricate them.
Turkish Delight portrays a different type of acquaintance. The cash-strapped narrator accepts an invitation to Sunday lunch from a financially successful Englishman who has plans for an afternoon of mutual drinking and drug taking. High on whatever has been snorted, the narrator can suppress his concerns at feeling out of place amongst ‘beautiful people’.
Methylated Spirits is a story about shopping in Sainsburys in the week before Christmas. From the items purchased and the amount spent the reader may assume that the narrator is now doing better financially.
Barbecue and Exhumation in Victoria Park Village is a biting exposé of casual xenophobia that the characters portrayed would probably deny. One is a ‘published author’ with opinions about writers and their road to success. The guests at the barbecue talk condescendingly on many topics, trading insults as competition amongst them builds with alcohol consumption. The narrator observes this group of friends while trying to fit in.
As well as London there are stories set in Dublin, Rome, and a childhood holiday in coastal Argentina. In this latter tale, the narrator is spending a summer with a young friend’s family, to keep the boy company. The montage presented is piercing in its evocation of the ordinary experiences children must suffer at the hands of peers and those charged with their care.
The final story, Notes Towards A Return, is set in Buenos Aires towards the end of the period covered by this memoir.
“Unlike Dublin, Paris, and later London, Buenos Aires was too much for me – I couldn’t tame it, own it, call it my own. I used to spend many a weekend in Buenos Aires but I would spend this time couch surfing, mostly off my head after rock concerts, preparing a landing that never materialised. So I miss the possibility of Buenos Aires.”
The narrator does not return to his hometown, Rosario, on this visit. When friends there express disappointment he stops responding to their messages.
“Others stop replying to my fake apologies. The important part is that a heavy ballast is dropped: we should have stopped talking years ago – we have nothing in common anymore – we were victims of the Dictatorship of Nostalgia that comes with social media.”
Although each story in this collection contains an interesting plot and well developed trajectory, it is the keen observations and elucidation that provide their vigour and entertainment. The writing style and taut structure offer an acutely pertinent if wry portrayal of humanity and their treatment of incomers. Whatever truths are being conveyed about the author’s life, it is as short stories about people’s behaviour that they may be savoured. Whilst I couldn’t empathise with many of the choices made – situations beyond my experience – the first person narrative offers a window into the life of a traveller whose circumstances are more relevant than location.
May 7, 2020
Gentle humour and compassion through the side of the mouth, indirect and circumspect, playful especially when serious. The prose is spare and the observations the subtle exaggeration of a story told in a quiet bar. Individually these stories entertain, as a collection they coalesce into something more. I highly recommend it.
January 4, 2025
I'm not really sure how to feel about this book !
October 1, 2023
‘…regardless of how much I have tried to hide I have failed, and I am naked on the page.’
Having previously read one of his shorts, ‘Shitstorm’, I bought ‘Jolts’ while already a fan of how Sdrigotti conveys the beautiful simplicity of mundane humanity. This full length novel did not disappoint in engrossing me once again in that feeling.
Having previously read one of his shorts, ‘Shitstorm’, I bought ‘Jolts’ while already a fan of how Sdrigotti conveys the beautiful simplicity of mundane humanity. This full length novel did not disappoint in engrossing me once again in that feeling.
October 13, 2021
Nine short stories, each with its own pace and style, together make a compelling collection. The characters are strong, the settings memorable. I loved the story of frantic Christmas shopping in Sainsbury’s, the narrative really driving the feeling of frenzy, and if it was for the protagonist’s laissez-faire attitude, my blood pressure would have been through the roof…
The final story of leaving Argentina, itself an exploration of home, identity, travel and self-exploration was a fitting end. A solid book which leaves a lasting impact.
The final story of leaving Argentina, itself an exploration of home, identity, travel and self-exploration was a fitting end. A solid book which leaves a lasting impact.
August 21, 2024
Boring nostalgic literary stories that are random and somewhat pointless. I enjoyed one of them. The others I found dull. I eventually just gave up on the book at about the 80 % mark. I've been struggling to find anything worth reading lately. Everything seems boring. So it might be me. So two star just in case.
Read
January 22, 2021great prose, thoughtful observations, really great tone, enjoyed the fragmentation
April 1, 2023
i hate british people
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews