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I picked this up one day in a bookshop under the mistaken impression that the writer was a Nobel Prize winner (I think I mixed her up with Elfried Jelinek). It's pretty awful. The narrator is a New York psychiatrist who is in love with his lodger, having a love affair with one of his colleagues, and untangling family secrets of his own (not that exciting) and his lodger (a bit more exciting). There are lots of old letters written between Norwegian forebears, and traumatic memories of 9/11. It did very little for me.

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