2010/44

David Van Reybrouck: Slagschaduw (199p.)

There’s been no English translation of David Van Reybrouck’s novel Slagschaduw, which is further indication (beyond my own observations) that Slagschaduw essentially is literature of a regional nature, better than parochial, but not international by any means. (Harper Collins has however bought the global rights to the English translation of David Van Reybrouck’s recent non-fiction smash hit Congo, which I have bought already and am looking forward to read in a not too distant future.)

But all respect to Slagschaduw, Van Reybrouck’s only novel so far, autobiographical in nature, a West-Fleming in Brussels, enticing to read especially in the middle part, but tapering off toward the end.

Keeping tab on the contemporary Belgian writers I have been reading I’d say Van Reybrouck has the edge over Blondeau or Verhulst.

Good.