Mediated smoothly by Ruth Martin in translation, Iris Wolff proves to be a superlative storyteller. Shuttling between several temporal planes, combining lyrical passages with precise, almost clinical descriptions, and navigating between striking flashbacks and digressions of all kinds, she is a master of the teasingly slow dramatic build-up. The result is memorable prose, subtle and mesmerizing. Herta Müller is no longer alone in Germany.
Costica Bradatan über Die Unschärfe der Welt