Natasha and Other Stories, by David Bezmozgis, is utterly right: charming, poignant, honest. All the stories share the same context.
I found myself wondering how many people would relate to, or at least enjoy, stories of the Russian-Jewish immigrant experience, circa 1980s Toronto. But obviously, this collection has already been widely acclaimed be people other than me. In these stories I recognized little bits of my own past — not strictly "immigrant" and no longer confined or defined by but still, then, firmly within that community, of another Slavic heritage, over the same time period not so far from Toronto. Silly, I know, to be grasping for similarities; but there are insights still into how my family acts and thinks:
My mother noted the size of the house. Maybe three thousand square feet with a big yard. Also, it was fully detached. This was two substantial steps beyond our means. Between our apartment and a fully detached house loomed the intermediate town house and the semidetached house. A fully detached house was the ultimate accomplishment.
I don't know what others will find in these characters' lives. Humour, compassion, suburban reality.
My favourite line:
The sun was neither bright nor hot and the outdoors felt conveniently like the indoors: God's thermostat set to suburban basement.
The Russian Riviera
The Second Strongest Man
A New Gravestone for an Old Grave
London Review of Books
The National Post
Quill & Quire: profile
The Atlantic Monthly: interview
Reading group guide.