But it is in these rough patches that Blasim's argument for a truth emerges. Occasionally, there are missteps, places where a story and ending feel mismatched. Most of these stories feel ready to collapse or explode at any moment. Instead, they are stories where the reader is dragged along and left suddenly with a handful of ashes. The single story told is hardly the biggest tear-jerker instead, the story is almost ordinary in its cruelty, its absurdity and its inconclusive ending.īlasim's are not finely wrought stories, where each word feels as though it has been carefully glued into place. An old woman "close to ninety" mutters, "If I told my story to a rock, it would break its heart." But we don't hear the old woman's story or those from most of the others gathered at the station. They've been told that the best among their stories will win valuable prizes, and each thinks his or her story is the most gruesome, the most heart-rending. In "The Song of the Goats," people from across Iraq crowd into a radio station.
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