The Review of Contemporary Fiction

Skinswaps by Andrej Blatnik
Michael Pinker

Andrej Blatnik. Skinswaps. Trans. Tamara Soban. Northwestern Univ. Press, 1998. 109 pp. Paper: $14.95.

This brief collection by the Slovenian author Andrej Blatnik ranges from a one-line “Apologia” to the lengthier “Scratches on My Back” and “The Taste of Blood.” Considerable narrative attention turns on the physical, tactile presence of skin and blood in situations of arousal or abuse. In the north of what was known for a while as Yugoslavia, in sometimes brutal imagery, Blatnik paints a violent landscape with some familiar, contemporary American overtones.
Blatnik renders scenes of contemporary ennui, frustration, and impotence in figures of debased horror and sometimes random violence. Can “Hodalyi” feel dread stalking him as he sweeps aside a gang of urchins’ muffled threats on a muggy afternoon? Will Roman the architect ignore the “Scratches on My Back” which are Diana’s hold on him—failure at his job, at friendship, at being honest with the present, here and now? A child watching a movie imagines “His Mother’s Voice” and must warn of the danger lying in wait at home. To Katrina, hovering before apparent foul play, “The Taste of Blood” is her fear of two cloddish, pushy policemen divulging a more than professional interest. If scenes of outright violence usually remain subdued, all hell can literally break loose, too, on a more intimate scale.
Yet in stories like “Possibility” and “Actually,” disembodied voices discourse to little apparent effect. What has changed? What if “Apologia” were taken seriously? “The Day Tito Died” may hold an ironic significance not to be lost. “Isaac” catches on to his railroad timetable too late. “Rai,” closing Skinswaps, mimics what it can of music in words. Blatnik’s kaleidoscope jogs slightly. Life reels.
Home, family, language—fragile dependencies, usually taken for granted. Blatnik captures impressions of their routine evisceration, which as these distort fictional reality rarely degrade it beyond recognition. [Michael Pinker]


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The Review of Contemporary Fiction Skinswaps by Andrej Blatnik Michael Pinker Andrej Blatnik. Skinswaps. Trans. Tamara Soban. Northwestern Univ. Press, 1998. 109 pp. Paper: $14.95. This brief collection by the Slovenian author Andrej Blatnik ranges from a one-line “Apologia” to the lengthier “Scratches on My Back” and “The Taste of Blood.” Considerable narrative attention turns on the physical, tactile presence of skin and blood in situations of arousal or abuse. In the north of what was known for a while as Yugoslavia, in sometimes brutal imagery, Blatnik paints a violent landscape with some familiar, contemporary American overtones. Blatnik renders scenes of contemporary ennui, frustration, and impotence in figures of debased horror and sometimes random violence. Can “Hodalyi” feel dread stalking him as he sweeps aside a gang of urchins’ muffled threats on a muggy afternoon? Will Roman the architect ignore the “Scratches on My Back” which are Diana’s hold on him—failure at his job, at friendship, at being honest with the present, here and now? A child watching a movie imagines “His Mother’s Voice” and must warn of the danger lying in wait at home. To Katrina, hovering before apparent foul play, “The Taste of Blood” is her fear of two cloddish, pushy policemen divulging a more than professional interest. If scenes of outright violence usually remain subdued, all hell can literally break loose, too, on a more intimate scale. Yet in stories like “Possibility” and “Actually,” disembodied voices discourse to little apparent effect. What has changed? What if “Apologia” were taken seriously? “The Day Tito Died” may hold an ironic significance not to be lost. “Isaac” catches on to his railroad timetable too late. “Rai,” closing Skinswaps, mimics what it can of music in words. Blatnik’s kaleidoscope jogs slightly. Life reels. Home, family, language—fragile dependencies, usually taken for granted. Blatnik captures impressions of their routine evisceration, which as these distort fictional reality rarely degrade it beyond recognition. [Michael Pinker]

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