Rock, Paper, Scissors

Rock, Paper, Scissors

Naja Marie Aidt

Language: English

Pages: 345

ISBN: 1940953162

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


"The emotions unleashed in this tale . . . are painfully universal. Yet you know exactly where in the universe you are. This is the hallmark of great short stories, from Chekhov's portraits of discontented Russians to Joyce's struggling Dubliners."—Radhika Jones, Time

Naja Marie Aidt's long-awaited first novel is a breathtaking page-turner and complex portrait of a man whose life slowly devolves into one of violence and jealousy.

Rock, Paper, Scissors opens shortly after the death of Thomas and Jenny's criminal father. While trying to fix a toaster that he left behind, Thomas discovers a secret, setting into motion a series of events leading to the dissolution of his life, and plunging him into a dark, shadowy underworld of violence and betrayal.

A gripping story written with a poet's sensibility and attention to language, Rock, Paper, Scissors showcases all of Aidt's gifts and will greatly expand the readership for one of Denmark's most decorated and beloved writers.

Naja Marie Aidt was born in Greenland and raised in Copenhagen. She is the author of seven collections of poetry and five short story collections, including Baboon (Two Lines Press), which received the Nordic Council's Literature Prize and the Danish Critics Prize for Literature. Rock, Paper, Scissors is her first novel.

K. E. Semmel is a writer and translator whose work has appeared in Ontario Review, the Washington Post, and elsewhere. His translations include books by Karin Fossum, Erik Valeur, Jussi Adler-Olsen, and Simon Fruelund.

Hawthorn & Child

Féerie pour une autre fois

Oublier, trahir, puis disparaître

Journey into the Past

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

he’d said, anxious. He was seven years old. Their father had laughed out loud. “Ha! I’m not planning on it!” Thomas wanted nothing to do with the ring. They must’ve forgotten to remove it when they prepared his body. Jenny squeezed his arm. “He looks so different,” she whispered. She’d visited him at the prison, so she must’ve known. He hadn’t seen his father’s face in many years. Outside it was cold, but the western sky was soft pink, golden. The bushes shivered when they walked toward the

“Tell us a funny story, Thomas. How’s it going at the store? Do you and Maloney get drinks after you close? Do you make good money?” Thomas begins loudly rattling off all sorts of stuff. He grins hysterically at things that aren’t especially funny. He gets to his feet to illustrate how Peter and Annie walk. He’s filled with an energy he can’t control, and now he mimics Annie’s voice. Patricia looks at him, aghast. Thomas is standing in the center of the room. Then, just as quickly as the mania

the rain. “You look tired,” he says. “Have you even had dinner?” “I had a sandwich on the way home. We don’t have any bread.” She sits beside him. “You have sauce on your collar.” He nods. With her nail she scratches a little at the dried sauce. She strokes his cheek. She puts her arm around him. “Where’d you eat?” she asks softly. “At Luciano’s. Jenny insisted.” He puts his arm around her, and they sit like that for a while. He can’t stop thinking about how stiff and clumsy it feels. They

this is her fourth shot, she doesn’t seem drunk at all. They roll a die to determine who will start. Kristin wins. “Okay,” she says. “Pay close attention: The opals hiding in your lids / as you sleep, as you mysteriously . . . Oh, as you mysteriously . . .” Kristin hesitates, glancing at the ceiling. “Ride ponies! Yes. Ride ponies, spring to bloom/ like the blue flowers of autumn.” Helena blushes a little. The others applaud. “Wait,” Kristin says. “I remember some of the last part too.” She

after all, and now it’s in place. The chandelier’s yellow light makes the store seem smaller and cozier. Annie’s on her knees sorting something in a cabinet, Peter’s leaning against the ladder blowing an enormous bubble with his chewing gum, then it pops in his face. He seems more stooped than usual. Thomas drops into a chair in the office, sighing. “Have a pastry,” Maloney says. He’s sitting with his legs propped up on the table and riffling through a catalog. He pushes a plate filled with cream

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