A ‘whodunnit’ that plays with surrealism (and miserablism). Set on ‘the plateau’ in the south of Poland, close to the Czech border, where the wind always blows, where the ground is frozen, except when it is a moving river of mud and where most of the houses in the village are holiday homes, only visited by city-dwellers at weekends in the summer. Mrs Duszejko has installed herself as the caretaker to most of these holiday homes.
Members of the local hunting club start turning up dead, in peculiar circumstances and Mrs Duszejko is convinced it is the work of local animals exacting revenge, she has seen it in the stars – she describes herself as an expert in astrology, claiming to be so good at it that she knows the date of her own death. She is also a huge fan of William Blake.
The humour is bone dry and mind altering…a fantastic read, if you like your middle-European stuff. And Tokarczuk is a Nobel Laureate, so trust the judgement of others if you’d rather.