Marisa Silver

If you can embrace the weird, this is one lovely and amazing story.

(Full disclosure: I received a free electronic ARC for review through NetGalley. Trigger warning for violence, including child abuse and rape.)

Pavla revels in her name because she knows that if nothing is little, then it must be something indeed.

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“You’re the one who said all time exists,” Danilo says. “The past exists. The future exists.”

It’s true. She did say this. And she does somehow believe that what has show more happened to her and what will happen to her exist simultaneously, that the story is already written but not yet told. She must be like someone in one of her mother’s stories who has existed for centuries of telling and will exist even after her mother is gone. How else to explain her life? As something random?

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“I’m sorry it has taken so long for us to come,” he hears himself say.

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Pavla Janáček is born at the turn of the century in a rural village located in a small, unnamed (but likely Slavic) country. She arrives in the twilight of her parents' lives: after much trying and four miscarriages, mother Agáta finally enlisted the help a "gypsy." She believes that Pavla's "condition" is a punishment from God for her blasphemy. Pavla is born a dwarf, with a head that's too large for her torso and arms and legs that are disproportionately short.

The chilly reception Pavla initially receives from Agáta gradually warms and deepens, as mother and daughter are forced into close proximity by the harsh winter weather. With spring comes love; Pavla is the child Agáta and Václav have always wanted. She ages, but grows precious little; she continues to sleep in her crib for the next fourteen years. She's a precocious child and a fast learner; she teaches herself to count using the slats on her crib and, when she turns seven, Václav takes her on as his assistant at his plumbing business. She starts school a year later, where her cunning eventually wins over her classmates.

And then Pavla hits puberty and her parents get the foolish notion to "fix" her: for what will happen to their lovely daughter (and Pavla is indeed a beauty, 'from the neck up') when they're gone? They begin dragging her from doctor to doctor, hoping for a miracle cure, until they wind up in the office of the biggest charlatan of them all: Dr. Ignác Smetanka, whose outlandish and cruel "treatments" leaved Pavla scarred, traumatized - and bearing the countenance of a wolf, seemingly overnight. But the transformation from dwarf to (average-sized) wolf-girl won't be the only metamorphosis Pavla experiences before her story's ended.

Pavla's strange journey intersects at multiple points and in unexpected ways with that of Dr. Smetanka's young assistant Danilo - the clever boy who built the rack that once again made Pavla an object of shame and terror.

Little Nothing is simply breathtaking; easily one of my favorite books of 2016, and there have been some pretty wonderful ones released into the wild this year. The early ratings were all over the place on Goodreads, such that I had no idea what to expect. Two things became obvious to me as I devoured Little Nothing: a) I should never, ever automatically discount a book due to low (less than 3.75 star) ratings, because then I might miss out on some real gems; and b) some books just aren't for everyone, and that's okay.

Some words that come to mind when I think of Little Nothing (and I've been thinking on it tons lately): Vulgar. Profane. Weird. Surreal. Beautiful. Shrewd. Penetrating. Fantastical. Lyrical. Nihilistic. Compassionate. Boundaries, The Blurring of. Human, Animal, Vegetable. Wolf girls and girl wolves. Freakery: Cultural Spectacles of the Extraordinary Body. (That last one's a book; look it up.)

There are so many layers to Pavla's story, each one a little more disorienting than the last; levels of weird, I like to think of them. The circumstances of Pavla's birth are a little out of the ordinary, yet still firmly grounded in reality. This begins to slip away with each transformation. Pavla the wolf-girl is surreal, yet perhaps still scientifically explicable. Pavla the wolf, however, is completely off the fucking rails. Everything that comes next? The stuff of fairy tales.

In fact, Little Nothing feels a lot like a fairy tale - or rather, a whole bunch of them, woven and glued and stitched together such that the tapestry becomes so much more than the sum of its parts. Each disparate setting - Pavla's village; the carnival she's traveling with; the countryside she navigates through lupine eyes; the battleground where soldiers fight for independence; a prison for women; a medieval asylum; the underground tunnels of a rapidly modernizing city - could easily sustain its own 350-odd-page book. That Silver is able to condense each tale into a smaller bit, and meld it with other shrunken-yet-still-grand-in-their-own-way bits, while honoring the import of each, is a testament to her skill as a storyteller. Each chapter in the characters' lives manages to satisfy, while still leaving you wanting for more.

It's hard to pick a favorite episode; each one turns a mirror back on society, in its own unique way. During her time touring the freak show circuit with Smetanka, she uses the audience's disquiet against them: by refusing to react to their taunts and aggression, she outs them as the monsters they are. Yet as much as I loved the carnival scenes (I have a thing for stories set in carnivals, okay), Pavla's transformation into a full-fledged wolf is exquisite (and reminiscent of Emma Geen's lovely and amazing The Many Selves of Katherine North). Does a mother grieve the loss of a child any less if he is a wolf? If she is?

Of course those scenes set in the asylum and prison are also trenchant AF, revealing the many atrocities that have and do take place within their walls. ("The hole" even goes by the same name, all these decades later.) It's interesting to note that the treatment that Danilo and Pavla were subjected to was much the same - even though one was a confessed murderer deemed too "crazy" to go to jail; the other, a suspected murder who was imprisoned for her "crimes." The distinction between institutionalization and imprisonment seems superficial at best.

Silver also does her characters proud, creating people who are flawed and complex and brave - even, on occasion, heroic. Pavla is astonishing, in all her forms - and the many she's been made to assume give her a rather unique perspective on love and loss, on the nature of life, and everything (or nothing) that comes with it. During the end of her time in prison, "the woman who rarely spoke and whose introversion made her seem practically invisible becomes an object of veneration" among inmates and jailers alike.

"Veneration" just about sums it up.

If you can get past the weirdness - or, better yet, embrace it - Little Nothing is a book that will capture your imagination, along with your breath and heart. This is one amazing story, befitting the "Little Nothing" for whom it's named.

http://www.easyvegan.info/2016/11/07/little-nothing-by-marisa-silver/ show less

Marisa Silver's range is amazing - from a fictional imagining of the migrant mother in Dorthea Lange's famous "Migrant Mother" to a speculative folk tale in "Little Nothing" to this realistic fiction focusing on three generations of loosely associated women, she consistently looks at the depths of human thought, feeling, and motivation. At Last is the story, primarily of Helene Simonauer and Evelyn Turner, two women brought together by marriage of Helene's son, Tom, and Evelyn's 'hippy show more dippy' daughter Ruth. Both women are widows but with totally different attitudes and approaches. Evelyn has raised 3 daughters to be independent, and has supported herself after her husband's death. She is no-nonsense, practical and tough. Helene is a society matron and stands on stilted, dated (false) mores and roles for women that are becoming extinct in 1960s America. The two women don't like each other much, and have an innate sense of competition, especially once granddaughter Francie comes on the scene. It gives way to grudging respect later in life when the ties that connect them become a choice rather than a obligation. Francie's adult observation: "A grandparent, a parent -- it's not their job to explain themselves to their children and grandchildren. But it does seem to be the job of children and grandchildren to wonder, to weave together the bits and pieces that come down to them, to ask over and over, 'Who are you?'" Silver does not hide the warts of any of her characters and the result is a frank, deeply human story of the ability to love, change, and grow. ("Helene was old enough to know that every decision you made trailed second thoughts in its wake.") As a result, it is more interior than action-oriented, but presents a fascinating look at how we become who we are and how much of it is in our control. show less

‘’Love!’’, the woman exclaims. ‘’All anyone wants to know about is love! My God! Is there nothing more important on earth than that? Why don’t you ask the necessary questions: Will I have food in my belly? Will I have all my teeth? Will I be able to urinate without pain? But no, it’s always love! It’s pathetic.’’

In a country that resembles Poland during the beginning of the last century, an elderly woman gives birth to a girl. What should have been a blessing turns into show more an ordeal. Isolated peasants, the parents notice that the child is unusual. Whispers about changelings haunt the mother’s mind before she comes to accept that her Pavla is unique. More unique than she could ever imagine. Soon a story of transformation, desperate love and persecution begins, brilliantly written by Marisa Silver.

''Why is she staring at them? What horror does she see?''

This novel is full of horrors. Inspired by the wealth of Slavic myths related to wolves, Silver presents the complex theme of identity and transformation through the adventures of Pavla and Danilo. Using a wonderful combination of Folklore, seasoned with a sense of humour that varies from bittersweet to crude, and literary language that is raw and poetic, she chronicles the odyssey of being the Other. From the circus of extraordinary beings to the behaviour of the community of wolves, the terrifying asylums, the unspeakable horrors of war and the holiest obligation of protecting a child.

Each chapter, each page hides a surprise and there is no way the reader will be able to predict the story. Through misery, sadness, and isolation, a small glimpse of hope is born and change dictates our choices. Sometimes, though, Fate decides for us and all we can do is to adapt to new situations that may seem incomprehensible. The only problem I faced is the crude sexual remarks that were often and unnecessary, in my opinion. The story is so beautiful and constant emphasis on the brutal aspect of sex was tiresome.

The characters of Pavla and Danilo are excellent, full of surprises, their journey from innocence to the ugly face of life and whatever hope they still have left is beautifully communicated. Ivan is yet another memorable character, very realistic and his story was possibly the most moving sequence in the novel.
Little Nothing is anything but ''little''. It is one more literary gem...

''All she can do is stare out into the night sky. Once, she would have said that night was simply black. But now she knew differently about colour and pain and delusion. Russet red, indigo blue, brown, other. She chants this litany to herself over and over, building up a wall of words that protects her from the sound of her mother's voice, the feel of the chill on the tips of her ears and nose, the smell of chimney smoke carried on the wind. She needs to block out any intrusion that threatens to remind her of her being.''

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/ show less

I love the old saying, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” In Silver’s case, a picture is an opportunity to tell the story behind the iconic “Migrant Mother” photograph of subject Florence Owens Thompson, taken by photographer Dorothea Lange and published in 1936. Bringing to life the Dust Bowl Depression of the 1930’s, the story Silver weaves is told from the point of view of three fictionalized narrators: Depression-era migrant worker Mary Coin, photographer Vera Dare and in show more the modern day, social historian Walker Dodge. Written more like a series of connected stories and using biographical details as a starting point, this is squarely a work of speculative fiction. The thoughts, feelings and emotions of the characters are all creations by Silver. The portrayal of the era is stark and powerful. Silver does not try to sugar coat what was a very difficult time for so many people. Relying on broad themes of identity and survival, each of the three narrators face their own unique struggles. Under Silver’s hand, Mary and Vera are rigid, almost unyielding and it is only later in the story where we get to see glimpses of the compassion and uncertainty that lies beneath the surface. Favorite quote:

“Because answers are inert things that stop inquiry. They make you think you have finished looking. But you are never finished. There are always discoveries that will turn everything you think you know on its head and that will make you ask all over again: Who are we?”

Through Mary Coin, Silver attempts to follow this line of reasoning. Does she succeed? I think she does, as this story has opened my eyes to more closely scrutinize and ask questions about the images I encounter. show less