This Danish literary sensation—Helle Helle's first novel to be translated into English is as addictive as reality TV because it feels well, real. Twenty-year-old Dorte is adrift. She moves into a tiny, barely furnished rental house across from the train station while pretending to her family that she is commuting to college. Instead, she wanders around Copenhagen, recalls her first love and falls into casual liaisons. On occasion, her wonderfully kind but troubled aunt, also named Dorte, comes to visit, bearing furniture, food and practical advice. It's not the plot that makes this slim novel impossible to put down, but rather the writing: so spare and precise that each moment evokes a world of emotion. Describing life across from the station—and its constant reminder that other people have someplace real to go and friends with whom to go—Dorte notes, "A train arrived, brakes squealing as it drew to a halt. Then silence for a moment, and the doors opened... A single voice laughed. The blast of a whistle, doors slamming shut, creaking coaches as the engine pulled heavily away. I nearly said cast off." Somehow, we have all been there, in that moment of yearning. By perfectly capturing Dorte's wistfulness and her search for purposeful connection, Helle Helle makes us feel less alone. Plus, there's a very neat twist on the final page. You'll think you should've seen it coming, but there was no way you could've... Hold on.
— Dawn Raffel
