Snow Man

This novella's anonymous narrator leaves Yugoslavia in the '90s to take up a position at a Canadian university. Clearly traumatised by his wartime experiences—although they are never specified—he has what appears to be a quiet breakdown. The book ends with his implied death by suicide. David Albahari's prose is sometimes quite lovely, and I could see what he was aiming for with Snow Man, but the difficulty in writing from the POV of a frozen, numb character is that it can be tough for a reader to connect with someone who is... well, frozen and numb. I also think this might have worked better as either a short story or a fully fleshed out novel.

This novella is interesting at times and a fast read, but not too memorable. The narrator has fled the conflict in his home country through an appointment at a Canadian college. He doesn’t think back on his past and there are no flashbacks. Instead, the book opens with him arriving at the house provided by the university and continues on through his early discombobulated days. He explores the house, goes shopping, meets his neighbors, meets the faculty and staff at the college, performs his academic and speaking duties, and clings to orange juice as a lifeline. His isolation is shown in the absence of the past (although one rather paternalistic professor keeps trying to talk to him about it) and the close focus on the minutiae of his show more new life. Although the narrator gives talks to students and goes out for drinks with colleagues, the narrative mostly skips these events, describing instead his numbing routine of going back and forth to various places. The style effectively conveys the narrator’s frozen state of mind, but it can be repetitive. Finally, towards the end, there is a suggestion of some thawing, which takes place during a snowstorm. show less