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Books seem to have a way of showing up when we need them most.

Rounded bits of greenish glass covered the floor of the living room, crackling as they continued to burst into smaller pebbles for several more minutes.

I was secretly thrilled that the table was ruined, but that was tempered by thoughts of projectile acceleration and vulnerable flesh and previously unconsidered ways to die.

This is not an unbiased review, or a review at all.] is a novel of tremendous energy that splinters off into sub-stories and sub-stories of sub-stories, and a gorgeous and terrifying meditation on history, politics, ontology, and time.

It won both the 2014 Hans Fallada Prize, and the final International Foreign Fiction Prize in 2015, before the IFFP merged with the Man Booker International Prize into the megaprize it is today.