Carnality: A Novel

by Lina Wolff, Frank Perry (Translator)

First published in the Swedish language as K�ottets tid in 2019 by Albert Bonniers F�orlag, Stockholm, Sweden

Genres: Fiction, Horror, Contemporary, Literary Fiction, Book Club, Thriller, Novels

364 pages, Kindle Edition

First published August 20, 2019

About the author

Lina Wolff is a Swede who has lived and worked in Italy and Spain. During her years in Valencia and Madrid, she began to write her short story collection Many People Die Like You. Her novel, Bret Easton Ellis and the Other Dogs, was awarded the prestigious Vi magazine literature prize, given to writers to watch out for, and was shortlisted for the 2013 Swedish Radio award for Best Novel of the Year. She now lives with her family in Sweden.

Reviews

[Gary · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was recommended in a New York Times newsletter so I was stunned that there were no reviews on Amazon or goodreads. A blank slate! So I read it as quickly as I could so that I could be the first to review it. Then I came back to goodreads only to find that one person has now rated it two stars, but no review.

So…. I have to whole stage to myself. Mine will be the review that all others will see. Here is my chance. People will read or avoid this book based on what I say until other reviews start popping up.

It’s too much pressure. I can’t do it. I have been given this opportunity and I have failed.

[Jessica Woodbury · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a weird one and you need to give it a while to get going. I was willing to stick around because the title and the cover had me very curious and it was absolutely worth my while.

I love a book that I just cannot compare to any other book. There is a dark humor that underpins this book, a kind of absurdity underneath it all, though on its surface it presents itself very frankly and seriously. It is about our desire to be good, the limits to our own goodness, and the power of declaring what is good or what is evil. But this makes it sound like it is a straightforward narrative. It is, at times, and it all connects together into a mostly cohesive whole, but it was a book that I appreciated most in its strangeness.

[♑︎♑︎♑︎ ♑︎♑︎♑︎ · Rating 5 out of 5]

Eerie and wonderful storytelling. One thing that surprised me as I read was that, for such a unique story, it reminded me so strongly of recently read books by other authors, like The Repeat Room and other books by Jesse Ball, and What Happens at Night by Peter Cameron, and Tomorrow in the Battle Think on Me by Javier Marias. if i had read only one of any of these i would say, “wow, this story is so strange and gripping and upending and unique,” but as I’ve read all of them, instead I’m thinking: “hmm, something is going on here, a new form of storytelling that transcends international boundaries, and it must mean something…” not enough to be a “movement” but still. There is a strong affinity here. For those of you reading this review and who have also read these books, let me know what you think. Do you feel the same way? What would you call this kind of story, anyway? Besides delightful, I mean! What a romp this was!

[Eric Sasson · Rating 3 out of 5]

I’ll be generous and round up from 2.5. Wildly overpraised by the NYT. Compelling? Yes. Strong writing? Yes. Strange? Also yes. But not nearly strange enough, and my compulsion to keep reading was very often accompanied by exasperated sighs. Shocking how unsatisfying a book can feel while still being so readable. About as inorganic a novel as I’ve read in quite a while- all momentum derives from the author’s whims; nothing seems to arise organically from the characters, who exist solely to carry out the author’s caprices.

And geez- in 2023, the idea of an underground dark web series where people seek bloody revenge against someone because…he's committed adultery? Really?? Using epistolaries to deliver roughly 100 pages of exposition? Just no. These contrivances just don't work. Carnality is a fun read, but it left me feeling empty.

[Robin · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is immensely weird. A deadly game show. A nun with a missing thumb. An unfaithful husband whose wife needs a heart transplant. A writer who volunteers to care for a dementia patient. That's about as much as I'll get into the plot of this novel by Swedish author Lina Wolff.

As weird as it was, it was equally readable. The story is so propulsive, the writing superb, I was carried along effortlessly. I was entertained by the dark humour and the absurdity. I enjoyed the intelligence behind it all.

There's an idea of morality that the author explores. That people straddle good and bad, due to weaknesses of human flesh, but also possess a soul, or the desire to do better. And this theme of judgment and death, too. Some humans in this book seem to task themselves with meting out extreme judgment.

I was really interested in all of it, until the epistolary section of the book began just over the halfway part (epistolary storytelling is sort of lazy or dead in comparison to what precedes it), and takes us almost to the very end. The end, which, by the way, is ambiguous, or at least was to me, and left me stranded on a leaking floatation device, in the middle of the ocean. That isn't my happy place, I get seasick easily.

3.5 stars

[switterbug (Betsey) · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read that Swedish writer Lina Wolff atmospherically channels other sui generis narratives, such as Mercè Rodoreda’s Death in Spring, and Roberto Bolaño’s 2666, two of my favorite and stand-out books of all time. Her postmodern style is not for everyone, as there is zip on any relation to formula, and the characters have minimal histories. Typically, authors conceive their characters’ behaviors on the childhood influences that shaped them, but Wolff dispenses with that and creates her cast from raw material, as if history is casually immaterial. She follows chaos where it leads, and she doesn’t lead them into a systematic plot. The inverse of deterministic framing, the sense of destination is torpedoed. Moreover, the moral center is a person who you will initially think is vile. Eventually, you “get” that Wolff’s structure is not to prove an equation. Instead, she demonstrates that existence is messy and mysterious. I was carried away by the narrative sensuality, Wolff’s fleshy and complex layers, the astonishing passages, and her bold, provocative images.

Quick rundown of characters and situation—there’s Lucia (meaning “light”), an elderly nun with a missing thumb and astonishing history; a middle-aged female Swedish writer named Bennedith, who is in Madrid on an award grant for three months, and who suffers from body dysmorphia; a Spanish man named Mercuro who is grieving over his serial infidelity to his ill wife, Soledad (she needs a heart transplant); and an urbane woman who joyfully cares for her Alzheimer’s-stricken husband, despite the total care that he requires.

There’s also the inclusion of a TV show called Carnality that is both a send-up of our social media climate and a malevolently-inspired lesson on prurience and punishment. Wolff combines and merges all this together, and more! You just can’t predict a thing, as far as the development of plot or the outcome. Certain themes, such as unbridled lust, repression, and our violent impulses, darkens this stark landscape with a Nietzschean nihilism and desolation. “Imagine a cross between the strength of a Belgian Blue bull and the evil of Hitler. Throw in a couple of armfuls of hatred for men and the concentrated essence of embittered womanhood, and that’s her to a tee” is an example of feminism turned on its head, images that stay with you even after you turn the last page.

Speaking of turning the last page, don’t expect the author to wrap it up, or even to put it all together. As the reader, you do the work, although Wolff will provide the finest material for you to negotiate through and navigate. Despite its enigmatic, cryptic narrative, I couldn’t put this down. Read this and leap!

Kudos to Frank Perry for his keen and lucid translation from the Swedish.

[Elizabeth (Plant Based Bride) · Rating 3 out of 5]

This plot is something else 😂

Reading Vlog with full review: [https://youtu.be/z87Modokypw](https:/...

Written review to come!

[Jin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Das Lesen dieses Buches war wie eine wilde Fahrt, wo ich von einem Fettnäpfchen ins nächste getapst bin. Von der ersten bis zur letzten Seite konnte ich keine Pause machen. Es war wie als wäre man in ein Kaninchenloch gefallen, immer tiefer und kurioser ging es weiter. Das Buch lebt definitiv von den Charakteren und den besonderen Settings dazu: Eine Schriftstellerin, die eigentlich in all dem nicht verwickelt sein wollte, ein Mann, der durch einen Seitensprung alles zu verlieren droht, und eine uralte Nonne, die auf verblüffende Art und Weise das Leben von diesen beiden beeinflusst.

Das Buch wird mit "hochkomisch und tiefgründig, wild und wichtig" beworben, wo ich zustimmen kann. Es hätte zwar tiefgründiger sein können, aber so war es auch vollkommen in Ordnung. Auf jeden Fall eine unglaublich unterhaltsame Geschichte!

** Dieses Buch wurde mir über NetGalley als E-Book zur Verfügung gestellt **

[Emily Coffee and Commentary · Rating 3 out of 5]

An atmospheric journey into the dark corners of society. Moody and dark, Carnality addresses topics such as social media dependency, illness, and what it means to love someone, with or without conditions. It explores the questions: Who gets to decide what is good and what is evil? Which evils are deserving of punishment? What happens when we blur the lines of our own morality? Do we define our stories or do our stories define us? Gritty but with the essence of a daydream, this is a novel for those who see the world not as black and white, but as a kaleidoscope of greys in which we are forever searching for someone with the same vision.

[Karenina (Nina Ruthström) · Rating 5 out of 5]

En suggestiv thrillerliknande berättelse med många bottnar och tolkningsmöjligheter. Berör flera olika spännande teman som filosofi, religion, juridik, dödshjälp, kopplingen mellan själen och kroppen (köttet) med flera. Bra språk. Perfekt bokcirkelbok tänker jag.

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’m kind of feeling mind blown by how good of a setup this book gives this story. The Nietzsche inspired game show felt like the main focus of the story until the POV-switch and I got more than I could have hoped for in the depth of our main character.

[Linn Ålund Thorgren · Rating 3 out of 5]

Som alltid när jag läser Lina Wolff har jag så svårt att bestämma mig för en slutgiltig uppfattning om romanen som helhet. Hon börjar alltid JÄTTESTARKT! Det är som en feberdröm, och kan i mitt tycke räknas till den mest intressanta svenska litteraturen just nu. Men sen så lyckas hon aldrig knyta ihop säcken, jag känner mig alltid lurad i slutet av boken, som att jag i början blivit lovad något hon inte kan leva upp till. Både Bret Easton Ellis och de andra hundarna och De polyglotta älskarna faller i denna fälla. Expositionen slår en med häpnad medan slutet lämnar en snopen, otillfredsställd.

I alla fall. Boken öppnar med att den (ännu namnlöse) huvudpersoner reser från Sverige till Spanien för att skriva. Efter ett misslyckat försök att ”hjälpa” ett äldre par, varav ena parten har alzheimer, flyr hon Madrid med Mercuro Cano, en riktigt vidrig man som blivit uthängd i ett obskyrt nät-tv-program för att vara ett otroget svin/kvinnomisshandlare. So far är boken spännande och intressant. Sedan förloras något. Narrativet skiftar till bara brev från en av bi-karaktärerna och romanen blir inte längre lika spännande. Jag som läsare blir istället uttråkad. Dessutom, känns det som att i just denna bok har Wolff försökt få bukt med problemet genom att knyta ihop säcken med en fin rosett, på ett alldeles för tillgjort sätt. Det blir hafsigt, och berättelsen framstår som ofärdig, som att det saknas substans i karaktärerna.

Jag vet inte vad jag tycker om boken. Dels vill jag ge credd till Wolff som är nära den mest originella svenska författaren just nu i att författa romanidéer och upplägg, men dels upplever jag att hon inte lyckas ro dem i land. Köttets tid är ytterligare ett exempel på detta.

[Yuko Shimizu · Rating 5 out of 5]

My favorite novel I read this year. It’s freakin weird and I LOVE it. If this book ever gets to be made into a film, I can’t think of anyone else but Pedro Almodóvar to direct it. Yep, it’s THAT weird.
Totally unlikable characters who are completely flawed, borderline unrelatable but also completely lovable.
I’m going to read all Lina Wolff books I can find in English!

[Darcie Furlan · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was not the book for me. I didn't like any of the characters. They weren't relatable to me. I didn't like the story. It was really tedious and the second part is mostly the nun telling her life story which was very peculiar and unbelievable. I kept reading it hoping it would offer me something to like, but it was an icky story with icky characters. From reading other reviews I gather that the characters offer moral ambiguity to be grappled with. "What is good? What is evil? People are complex." Got it. This book is icky. I have to read Ruth Reichl again to cleanse my palate after this.

[Emil · Rating 5 out of 5]

Den här boken var riktigt bra och underhållande. Kanske lite väl intensiv ibland, de läskiga scenerna staplades på varandra. Jag tycker hon borde skriva en tegelsten, tänk 2666 eller Ditt ansikte i morgon, alltså vi snackar runt 1000 sidor, där hon kan brodera ut historien med ännu mer omsorg. Det kanske blir Wolffs riktiga fullpoängare. Men den här får en femma nu.
Hon skriver förresten jättebra dialog!

[Stacia · Rating 5 out of 5]

It's harsh. It's molten. And it made me snicker darkly sometimes.

DON'T read a summary or synopsis or reviews ahead of time, just read the book. It's better to go in blind on this one. (I picked this one because it has very striking cover art.)

I probably can't recommend it for everyone but I was repeatedly surprised by it & would have read the entire book in one sitting had I not needed to head to a meeting. I finished it as soon as I got back home.

Wow. 4.5 stars.

(WiT 2025.)

[ThatBookish_deviant · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.75/5

[Uzma Ali · Rating 5 out of 5]

I apologize for 3 reviews in one day I’ve only now found the motivation to do them. Carnality, though, is the one I just finished and WOW. I’ll probably let it simmer before I start a new book. Because that’s what it needs. Man I’ve been reading so many good stories IM SO HAPPY😭

How to describe this twisted hallucination of a book. I’ll just follow the synopsis on the back cover honestly… to do more would be to spoil it, I think. A middle-aged woman on a writing grant to Madrid meets a man at a bar, who promises he’ll tell his odd story of an evil nun chasing him in exchange for room & board. And I stop myself there. Other characters’ lives are told to our main character so as to enrich the world, but still center her somehow. It’s long winded, but it’s entertaining. It’s wild, and it’s demented. And I LOVE IT.

This is on morality and repentance. I’m so intrigued by the Catholic principle of forgiveness, because I’ve often found it something difficult with which to reconcile. Can we ever really give it? Can we ever truly receive it? I honestly gotta ruminate on this. These are measly little thoughts that have yet to grow, but it seems this book suggests pure forgiveness is possible. It also suggests altruism is not altruistic… as the volunteer gains a sense of meaning from their good deed. Or maybe also: the only thing that makes humans not so animalistic is our sense of guilt. That’s so catholic lmfao. As you can see this is all over the place. I’ll probably journal about it more later. Maybe I’ll come back to update. Probably not.

I loved this though. Wish I bought it instead of borrowed it because this warrants a reread. And multiple. I feel like its conception will change each time.

[G_occasionally_reads (back-ish) · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was expecting so much more from this book. I do not know why I had such high expectations, but I did.

It took me forever to read this book. I started with the audiobook, but it just wasn't doing it for me, so I switched to the e-book.

A reality show with deadly consequences. A nun with a dysfunctional upbringing. An unfaithful husband whose wife requires a heart transplant. A writer who relocates to Spain for a few months. Some random pushy and shady people. That's all we have in the book. That's also what you can read in any blurb of the book.

Is this book strange? Debatable. If you have been reading (like I am) South American horror, this would qualify maybe a 4 on a scale from 1 to 10.
Is this book a shocking horror? Not even a bit. You could see a mile away where it was headed.
Is this book about morally grey characters? Heck yes.

Overall: unsatisfied.

[Kathleen · Rating 5 out of 5]

"There probably was a wound like that inside me, but everyone has a myriad of wounds inside them, and what is important is that you have something else inside you besides those wounds. Little islands where you can find peace and rest and that you can stand on as you jump across the endless quagmire of disappointments life has to offer."

A writer, an adulterer and a nun cross paths in this fever dream of a book.
With themes such as repression, lust, violence and religion this book kept me hooked from the start. This book is told in such a weird way and relies on the reader to put the pieces together. I really loved just how truly odd this book was.

[Salty Swift · Rating 4 out of 5]

An old nun, a game show, a twisted tale of morality, deception, cheating and desolation. It's delicious and twisted - two qualities I most enjoy in great books.

[Royce · Rating 4 out of 5]

“The portrait he has been painting is too bizarre for her to visualize…it also occurs to her that anyone who writes knows the cliche,’Truth is stranger than fiction,’ contains a great deal of wisdom. The image of the hate-filled nun with the maimed hand is intriguing.” In Carnality, Lina Wolff asks the reader to determine what makes a person good or evil. When one helps care for an elderly dementia patient, as Bennidith does for Santiago; is Bennidith a “good” person because she volunteers to help Miranda care for her invalid husband free of charge? But when she loses patience with Santiago and screams at him, is she no longer a “good” person? Another example, L.W. provides is Mercuro Cano. A man who cheats on his wife too many times to count, although he claims he loves her and cannot live without her? L.W. allows the nun, Lucia to decide the fates of Mercuro Cano and Bennidith. AND, it is quite an interesting ride, I mean read. I will not spoil any more of the story here, pick it up and read it. You decide for yourself who is a good person.

[Lori · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have been waiting to get my hands on this book for quite some time so when it suddenly appeared on the shelf at the bookstore, I wasted no time in snagging it.

The book kicks off with an unnamed writer who has earned a three month long all-expenses-paid stay in Madrid. She visits the local bar and meets a man with a very strange story to tell. He is running from a ninety year old nun who is part of a shady underground TV talk show he recently appeared on. Instead of being reconciled with his terminally ill wife after admitting, and begging forgiveness for, his extramarital affairs on air, the nun is sending her henchman after him to collect her due. Feeling bad for him, the writer allows the man to crash at her place and finds herself pulled deeper than she could have ever anticipated into his dark and twisted story.

Carnality is chock full of sex, religion, humiliation, and violence. It's a book about how far people might go to receive, and provide, the salvation they think they deserve. And it's quite the little mindfuck! I loved every weird minute of it!

[Nikolaj Tange Lange · Rating 5 out of 5]

The worst thing about reading a new novel by Lina Wolff is that once I start, I cannot stop, and with every page I turn, I get one step closer to having to wait probably years until I can once again have the pleasure of reading a new novel by Lina Wolff for the first time.

[Drew Praskovich · Rating 4 out of 5]

Truly scrumptious and delicious. An Almodóvar-ian rabbit hole set in Madrid. Carnality is about the limits of flesh and the lengths we go to find our sanctity and maybe lose our sanity. Really strong characters, scene. Thoroughly enjoyed. Yum.

[Maja Svensson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wow. E de nått jag vill ge Wolff så är de ett TACK för att hon får mig att tänka på ett nytt sätt

[emily · Rating 3 out of 5]

You’re looking at me like I’m an idiot, I know. But at least I’m an idiot who knows he’s an idiot, and that’s more than you can say about a lot of people.

All in all nothing less of a ‘brilliant’ piece of literature, but I’m still not sure how I feel about it (personally). In terms of ‘quality’ it’s probably more than a four, but in terms of personal ‘liking’ it’s somewhere around a three, so I’ll have to go with a three. Love the unrestrained display/execution of dark humour in this one though (especially done with so much care and precision). I found the tone of the narrative and style rather impressive and definitely sort of hard to forget. In other words/ more simply ‘said’, I’m keen to read more of Wolff’s work/writing. Also, don't really understand the ending, or at least I was craving for a more satisfying one.

‘If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.’

‘The article was about a village—which nearly all the inhabitants only had one kidney, because they had sold the other one to wealthy individuals who had traveled to the village with the sole purpose of obtaining a new organ. They received $1,700 a kidney, which represented great wealth to these people who were living in dire poverty. Someone was making a huge profit, however, because the price the foreign clients were paying was $15,000 a kidney. An entire industry exists, the writer of the article wrote. Few things generate as much related activity as this meat we live in. The resourceful buyer will always find what he wants on the market in human flesh, because we live in an age when anything to do with the carnal aspects of human life is possible. “So you want me to sell my organs?” I asked when I had finished reading. The assistant cleared his throat softly and shook his head.’

‘I like people who can perceive the beauty of a well-structured system. I like people who can see things from the perspective of administrative systems. Because we always talk about the system from the perspective of the individual and never about the individual from the perspective of the system. From the perspective of the system the individual is always organic and desperately in need. From the perspective of the system the individual has always just bashed his thumb with a big hammer and requires assistance. The truth is, though, that the individual is an ant, and no one is going to bring an entire system to a halt just to relieve the completely insignificant pain of one ant. I know that now. My own words make me shiver. That is the person I have become. Cynical, hardened, contemptuous, spiteful, and scared to death—all at the same time. I’m not well at all, as you will have realised—Where was I?’

‘Calm, calm, calm, I said to myself, but whenever I said it my heart rate seemed to accelerate even more: a muscle running amok. I can feign calm, and even simulated calm is something I consider to be calm in a sense, but calm isn’t something you can fake—And the moment they catch your scent, the smell of blood sets them off. They love to bring down people who cannot keep their anxiety under control. Figuratively speaking, I mean. Participants who fail to keep their nerves in check will bite the dust, and it feels like you can hear this very particular sound when their heads hit the ground with a smack.’

‘There are times when failure is not an option and this was one of them. I really don’t feel well. I’m really not feeling well as I’m telling you this and I’m convinced there’s someone standing outside the entrance to the building at this very moment. If I went to see a psychologist, I’d probably be told I am paranoid. The day of my appearance had arrived at any event and as I stood there in the bathroom, I tapped the tweezers against the sink and watched the long black hairs fall onto the white enamel. Hair. This stuff is made of dead cells. This quintessential matter of dead cells that is an adornment and a scourge for both sexes. My hair is as thick as a horse’s, or that is what Soledad told me a long time ago. And she added with a glint in her eye that men with thick black hair exude virility. That was then. That was then, and it must have been said on a whim, a kindly one, because some time later it was my hairy body in particular she expressed revulsion at. Your body hair is like a wall-to-wall carpet, she said, and not a particularly clean one at that. You need vacuuming or cleaning with the high-pressure hose from top to toe. That’s the sort of thing a woman can say, but not a man. Imagine if I’d said to her that her crotch was like wall-to-wall carpet, and not a particularly clean one at that, and that I’d like to give her a good going over with the high-pressure cleaner—I’d have had to put up with her sneering or, even worse, tirades about my corrupt, dirty, and male chauvinist ego, for days on end. Anyway, I’m not complaining. Though I am, of course, but not about that. I like all women. I like the female as a phenomenon, its cyclical character, and that includes the smell of your genitals. I do apologize. Only when you are telling a story, you have to tell it properly and, even though I’m a reserved person, I cannot help the odd intimacy while doing so. I never wanted to get separated. Separations are ghastly.’

‘I took a taxi to the recording studio, even though it left a dent in my wallet. I’ve never been really rich, but well enough off for long enough to have forgotten what being poor is like. As I was being driven, I could watch the character of the city changing through the taxi window. You never think the neighborhood you live in amounts to that much, but the well, as they say, is always deeper than you imagine. Wide avenues lined with horse chestnut trees gave way to concrete blocks with peeling facades and narrow sidewalks. Overweight people eating chips and drinking beer, even though the sun had not yet passed the zenith, sprawled on cheap plastic furniture outside the bars. I thought I must have given the driver the wrong address when the car stopped outside the entrance. The door looked as though it led down to an unlicensed subterranean nightclub, and obscenities had been tagged across its iron surface, obscenities it seemed no one had bothered to clean off. Suck my cock was written in bold white text across the darkened rust. A diversionary tactic maybe because no one—including me, who had the actual address noted down—could ever have imagined the kind of thing that went on behind a door like that. And why not, when I think about it, suck my cock.’

‘I haven’t thought about it. I haven’t considered whether what I feel is genuine remorse or if I am, in fact, just appalled by the consequences. And what is genuine remorse, in any case? It dawns on me that I am, in all honesty, mostly appalled by the consequences—Deep down I’m glad I don’t feel any real regret because I don’t think regret serves any purpose. Fear, what I am feeling now, clearly does serve a purpose: fear of the consequences makes you want to be a better person. That is about the best you can hope for from a human being.’

‘If you can’t do better than this, there’s no hope; they can’t work with a pile of shit, because piles of shit fall apart however hard you try to shape them. I heard them say that in one of the other episodes. You can’t build towers out of shit because they simply fall apart. Some people you can work with, while others are just hopeless. Only I realise at the same time I did the right thing, because if I had lied they would have sniffed that out. They possess that ability; I’ve seen it for myself and more than once. I swallow, and take stock in the silence. I’ve staked everything on a single card, and that card is Carnality. If they refuse to help me—I might as well throw myself in front of a train or jump off a bridge. I just wish it wasn’t so bloody unpredictable. I can see that that is part of their attraction, only when you’re the one in the hot seat it feels like being on a roller coaster in the dark.’

‘Djuna Barnes writes that there is no pure sorrow, because it is bedfellow to the flesh, to the gall and the guts and the innards as a whole. You always have to take the many layers of the carnal into account. Ben Okri writes that the route destiny has planned for us is always different from the fate we imagined, and though our dreams may be fulfilled, this occurs in ways we couldn’t have expected.’

‘‘Nothing fucks you harder than time,’ she says. ‘Ser Davos. Game of Thrones.’’

‘They say that when people fall in love, they fall in love with a scent. That is not entirely true. When someone falls in love, they fall in love with the combination of scents they would produce together with that other person. They are searching for a complete fusion with another element. Stone, which is shaped by time, but also eroded by the motion of the sea. Could that be what is haunting you as well—this primeval human longing for the ocean, for stone and rock?’

‘During your brief visit to the convent you nevertheless found time to point out that I am as tiny as a dwarf, and that my maimed hand revolts you. I regret that I made such an appalling impression. My maimed hand is not an object of revulsion to me, however, but a blessing. Without it I would not be the person I am today. I do not intend to say that much about my childhood because I believe it was completely happy, and some people think that anyone who claims they had a happy childhood is invariably lying. The village I come from is hardly celebrated for its beauty, in any case, and there is no reason to go there unless you are a local. Some say it is inhabited by sodomites and illiterates, and while there may be something to that, I take the view that you should not be ashamed of your roots no matter where you come from. Dostoevsky writes somewhere that shame at oneself is the root of all evil in human beings, and I think he is right on that point.’

‘What I remember most are the air, the light, and the countryside. The grass that was perfumed with all the smells of the soil, and the wind that used to caress its leaves when it blew across the interior of Extremadura in the spring. I also remember the forests to the north and the tall eucalyptus trees that were silent during the summers just as in Neruda’s poem. When autumn came, the same trees would be completely still as though standing at attention in the face of their own decline. But if the countryside was paradisiacal, my body was a Pandora’s box. All bodies are, in fact, Pandora’s boxes. What you glimpse inside when the lid is opened are disease, desire, and sordidness of every kind. Looking in the mirror one day, I suddenly saw that I had changed and that though the change was a blessing, it was also in some way the beginning of a decline…’

‘—I had made it my mission to help people make the crossing to the other side. I considered it to be part of that mission to explain to them the various means available to achieve that goal. The substance I used most frequently provided a light-hearted, bubbly feeling, like the sensation of being slightly tipsy in spring, and I referred to it as “Mozart.” Anyone can experience a good death to Mozart. It does not require previous knowledge or a particular ability to put yourself in a state where you are receptive to the joys of life. Mozart seeped inside, took possession of the person, and refused to relax its hold on the brain until it had grown cold. Though there were people too who would not be satisfied with Mozart. There were those who thought that if you were going to die you might as well take a risk or two—if you were going to die, you might as well go the whole hog. The individuals who chose to die to the substances I called “Bach” and “Schubert” may have been thrill-seekers, but they could still be handled. If I were to summarize some of the most meaningful and profound experiences of my vocational life, they would always be linked to those two substances. And then there was a third category; all I had left to offer them was “Rachmaninov.” These people were what you might call territories without maps. They could change their mind at the last minute or take the plunge long before I was ready myself. They were unpredictable, and unpredictable people are also dangerous people in a sense—to me, in particular, because I always felt obliged to operate according to a very detailed plan that had been set out in advance.’

‘Is it true what they say that you reach a point in certain sequences of events when everything suddenly runs amok as though a mechanism had been tripped by an invisible hand? And if it is, how do you know which point it is, where it lies, and what can be done to counteract it afterward? Could you have been shedding your skin, and once the old skin, now worn thin and dried out, is beside you on the floor, you realize that in order to live your old life you would have to crawl back inside it? And that, you know right away, is impossible; the die is cast and you have become someone else.’

[Robert · Rating 3 out of 5]

Carnality: feeling morbid sexual desire.

Technically I could just say that the novel’s title and leave it there and let you find out the rest but the theme of carnality does work on many levels.

The book begins with a journalist going to madrid. On the way she meets an odd gentleman who has an odd backstory; he is on the run from being killed as he was exposed for being a double cheat on an internet gameshow called… carnality, of which one of the hosts is a nun. At the same time the journalist tries to help an Alzheimer’s patent but that doesn’t work out so her situation is not dissimilar to the man.

The duo try run away but that doesn’t work out either, which leads to the second half of the book where we get the nun’s point of view. Here the theme of carnality is firmly wedged into this section. Not only do we find out how she became the host of the Carnality gameshow but how life events from her youth led to it.

The book itself is rather messy (well it is definitely messy but im talking metaphorically) – The first half drags a bit but then the second half picks up a lot, which leads to a sloppy conclusion. Carnality is still a good read but not one that I will remember.

[Flo · Rating 3 out of 5]

I loved the vibe of this book. An unhinged nun. She's so wonderfully intriguing, and she's not like the other nuns you could imagine . . . I loved her reflections and the moment in which she takes the book's protagonism. I didn't like the man being introduced first, you would think his thoughts would be all we'd see throughout the book. But gladly the nun saved the experience of reading this. In this book, everything was possible, and that was what really kept me entertained. I don't think everything made sense, that's why I gave it three stars, but I believe it to be a fun non story . . .

[Ella Dixon · Rating 4 out of 5]

Like the previous reviewer (hi Gary), I purchased this book as soon as I saw it listed on the New York Times’ list of books to read that week. I bought it immediately and also wanted to be the first review. I had some other things I was reading at the time, so it took me a little longer than planned, and I missed out. Unlike the previous reviewer, I will take up the gauntlet and write a review of the book (no disrespect, Gary. I’ve been there) but it will also be a little bit about me, like everything is.
I’m a huge fan of translated works and I know some Swedish, courtesy of my finlandssvensk ex who didn’t know that cute is a compliment more often than a term of infantilization. I love religious iconography and nuns are so freaky! Harvesting organs is also very freaky and a little unsettling which I love. So this book seemed like a win before I even started. And in many ways it was.
I loved the thrill of this story and the idea of a secret television show that can only be accessed via the blockchain and cryptocurrency. It’s kind of random, especially when a real and practicing nun is involved, but I went with it. At the first mention of some of the more strange/black market operations, I hesitated but I decided that this book would be and had to be worth it.
There are some really great lines and little bits of dialogue. I will share some of my favorites with you here:
“I’ve got a complex.” “About what?” “Everything.” (p. 164) relatable. iconic. me.
“This confirmed my theory that infidelity depends on a secret emotional charge and if you can drain that charge of excitement, both adulterers will then see themselves in the full light of their sordid behavior and their mendacity” (p. 268) Ruin the fun! They’re fucking in your apartment? Go secretly fold their clothes! The three-dimensional chess that Sor Lucia played is second to none.
One more: “I have always believed enemies are a good thing. Loyal in their hatred and constant in the wickedness of their intent, your enemies will always be there, waiting. (p. 284) Where would I be without my enemies? Probably lonely with the knowledge that no one is thinking about me.
Now the novel itself: Bennedith is such a fascinating character. I love a protagonist who doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing. She’s going with the flow and letting unhinged things happen in her life. She’s taking everything that people say at face value. Literally how! That’s so brave. But she’s also human. She gets mad at people with terminal illnesses. She accepts randos into her life for the plot. She’s having a hot girl summer gone wrong. Aren’t we all. It’s all a little silly and uncanny and kind of amazing. This is a novel of persecution, even when there’s no one on your tail. Or is there? And it’s also about the things we carry with us into our old age: the things we can’t forget because they’re physically with us, the things we saw that scarred us, the love that doesn’t die, the desire for a legacy of our own choosing, "the catastrophe we carry inside us" (p. 151). Really great story.
On to the gripes! I had some trouble figuring out the reason for the perspective shift to Sort Lucia. I love an epistolary novel but I want there to be a good reason for the shift and I don’t want it to be used as a way for a character to provide a lot of backstory that the author struggled to fit into the narrative through other means. Her long letters sometimes seemed like a writing exercise to hear about the formative years of a character you haven’t fleshed out, and then perhaps Wolff just inserted it entirely intact without considering the implications on the structure of the book. I could see her justifying it by saying that Bennedith was…shall we say…indisposed at the time…but I’m not totally buying it. At the same time, it was some of my favorite writing in the book and almost all the lines I recorded were from those sections.
Mercuro’s story was told in a similarly long chunk that absorbed about 100 pages of the beginning of the novel. Because I found him annoying and irredeemable like everyone who watched Carnality the TV show, I was reading only for the plot background and I had hoped that his story would be unreliable once we had someone else’s account. Unfortunately, I don’t think he lied even once. Why couldn’t he have lied about some stuff? It certainly would have been in character.
When that much of a plot comes from storytelling of the characters, whether in letters or as trauma dump, it leaves very little to happen in-scene, in-the-moment. Much of the true action happened in the span of a single day or so and served only to set up for the next character to spill their background tea. We (me) want more of the good juicy stuff that happens when people are doing real things.
I’m really glad I decided to get this book (even though it was so newly released in America that I had to order it on Amazon; none of my regular bookstores had it in stock and couldn’t order it yet). The cover is awesome and the translation is really good. I’d love to try to read this again in a couple years, in the original Swedish. Time to log back on to Duolingo so that I don’t text my ex boyfriend “tänker du någonsin på mig” just to try to get in some conversation practice.
As a final complaint (looking at you, Goodreads) I would like to state that there are precisely 357 pages of story in this book and I would love if the book page reflected that. I’m literally considering becoming a Goodreads librarian just so that I can add the edition I have (paperback ISBN 9781635420746, not kindle edition) and save everyone else the headache. I am such a benevolent queen! 4.5 stars.