I loved this book. It’s weird, beautiful, violent, and tragic. At different times, it reminded me of Sebald, Tarkovsky (“Stalker” specifically) and John Berryman’s Dreamsongs.

That suggests it’s not original, that it’s a patchwork of influences. Absolutely not. It’s a dystopian novel that takes place nowhere and nowhen (a bit like Utopia). The inciting incident is an accident at a Factory, a blaze of white light that kills off numerous animals and sees people flee the village near the Factory. Some stay, though. That includes our protagonist and his mother. The army—bald-headed soldiers—move in with their tanks, but who they might be protecting and from what is never made clear. It’s also a queer love story—our teenage narrator (at least I assumed he was a teenager) writes letters to his lover, Boris, who lives in the city. They both seek freedom. There’s violence, enslavement and a mouldering corpse in the back of a car. It’s that sort of book.

I rarely speak about translations in my reviews for Locus. It’s for a simple reason. I have no idea whether the word choice made by the translator reflects the author’s intent.* All I can do is judge the novel based on what’s on the page. In this case, I feel confident that Lethem has nailed the tone and texture of the original text. 

Napalm in the Heart is experimental. In the sometimes blinkered world of genre fiction, “experimental” is a swear word.** It’s a shame because, as a field, I feel we ignore some astonishing works of surrealism.  Napalam in the Heart is one of them. It’s likely to be one of my books of the year.

*I envy critics who can read in multiple languages and debate word choices endlessly. I would use Duolingo, but I don’t have the patience.

**Dont @ me. (But it’s true).