Book Review: Tamangur by Leta Semadeni (Translated by Tess Lewis)

Reviewer: Jace DeAngelo

Tess Lewis’ translation of Tamangur by Leta Semadeni honors the author’s poetic prowess. The unique language use (rivers that “snarl” their way from bank to bank) and thought-provoking imagery enlivens mundane moments and packs each paragraph with meaning.

If you want something fast-paced or packed with intrigue, this is not for you. Tamangur details the domestic and walks the reader through someone else’s life as if they are living it. This anthology is a translation, so cadence occasionally breaks in favor of an accurate translation, which is understandable.

Early in the anthology, Tamangur is described as an afterlife for hunters. We explore the death of Grandfather—most characters are referred to by title (Grandfather, the child, etc)—in a semi-nonlinear way, looping through quiet moments of grief and absences, then switching to laughing moments with a loving man. The whole story is told in a drawling, dreamy, almost lonely way, brought to life through a tight-knit family, a series of eccentric characters, and cuttingly relatable moments.

As this was a largely introspective collection, any foreshadowing that occurred felt natural. My favorite bit of foreshadowing was: “She had listened to the mouse dying for ours without doing anything.” This morbid line highlights the twisted, burdensome nature of grief, and emphasizes how easy it is to assign blame.

Tamangur should be mulled over, taken in like a breath. It is steeped in a familiar grief and a comforting, casual sense of spirituality. If you like novels with a dash of unexpected magic, a sprinkle of goats who need etiquette lessons, and a heaping cup of human connection, Tamangur is for you.

Favorite Lines:

“The tar in her mouth tastes perilous.”
”The soul is a creature of habit […]”
In the streetlamps’ wan light, the corset with its glittering hooks looks like an insect.”
“At night, anger and outrage bloom with particular beauty.”
“Some men have stolen my time, Grandmother says, but Grandfather gave it back to me two and threefold.”
“Fear is like a hunting dog. You have to treat it well and never let it control you.”
“Grandmother loves longing, she nurtured it. Longing has sharp little claws that keep you going.”