The short stories by Liliana Blum contained in the collection The Curse of Eve (published in 2008) read as if written by an extremely pissed-off sixteen year-old. The writing is simplistic, the plots contrived, the dialog flat, the characters even flatter.  Perhaps part of the blame could be laid at the translators feet but the core aspects of plot and character are so immature, no words in any language could help.  Blum’s writing has no subtelty or nuance, it is all in your face flatness.  All is obvious and nothing is hidden.

The titles of the stories illustrate the sophomoric nature of the tales that follow: “The Curse of Eve” (guess what that’s about), “Fish without a Bicycle” (guess again), “The Avon Lady” (again).  Actually, “The Avon Lady” is one of the two stories (out of twenty-eight)  that I actually liked.  There was no contrived or coy ending, no sudden twist or false note of wisdom; not one fake “aha” moment stormed in during this story.  “The Avon Lady” and “The Book Can Still Be Mended” both proceed easily and are even quietly compelling, and best of all, they end simply.

I became quickly bored then annoyed with the stories, one after another, set in the present tense.  The ones adressed to me as “you” were eben worse. Was that “tu” or “usted” in the original, I wonder? Actually, I don’t wonder because I don’t care.  Blum does not create a scene or a person that makes us care, other than our knee jerk reactions against pedophilia, the carving up of murder victims, and wife abuse.  There are too many women dreaming of killing their hubbies (or doing it), too many children exploring what they shouldn’t or being explored as they should not be; and too many convents filled with nasty-minded nuns but whole-souled priests.  Or maybe there were just one or two, but it was all too much, and never enough.