"The spare, discordant writing shifts from the stark realities of the present to dreamlike fragments of the heroine's childhood and life in the country, effectively juxtaposing urban and rural, where a semblance of humanity manages to survive. In the country, Grandmother wanders through fields singing and collecting sparrow's feathers; Grandfather spends his days playing chess and visiting the barber for a haircut; and city guards and children gorge on little green plums, which the country folk say is like 'swallowing your death,' the soft pits 'burning your heart up from the inside.' Many Western readers should come to appreciate Müller, whose work recalls the writing of Croatian Slavenka Drakulic."—Library Journal