The writer uses Samuel’s life to constellate disparate stories, like that of Karlina, Samuel’s grandmother who once held the hand of King Michael, or Oz, his friend, a prison guard who is haunted by a dragon of black depression. These lives are delicately and intimately drawn; sometimes tragic, though never melodramatic. The quiet despair of those living under Ceausescu – or exiled to escape his regime – anchors the novel across time. Blurred is elliptical and allusive, yet limpid. It engages the reader using brushstroke moments of clarity and feeling, in a style that reminded me at times of Norwegian writer Roy Jacobsen. The translation by Ruth Martin handles these nuances skilfully and makes sensitive judgments about dialect.
Ronan Hession über Die Unschärfe der Welt