<p>‘<em>Purity</em> is a strong, challenging book, emotionally charged, intricate and ceaselessly fascinating, poetic and tender, even humorous in its dark way, through all its roughness, deep grief, blood and grime.’ <em>Aftonbladet</em></p>
<p>‘When Tichý combines his concrete social realism with a slip into hypnotic stream of consciousness, it become completely brilliant. Tichý writes interpersonal tenderness and love just as sharply as he depicts pain, and powerful resistance.’ <em>Göteborgs-Posten</em></p>
<p>‘A feverish kind of despair about the eternal machine that is the abuse of power thrusts Tichý’s disparate voices into an affecting whole.’ <em>Svenska Dagbladet</em></p>
<p>‘As in all his best books, Tichý is an entertainer. Funny and drastic, smart and tough, without ever letting the tragedy become comedy. It is the style, between elegant novelistic prose and the colloquial, that lends these fragmentary stories a glint of something almost cheerful; the laughter when, staring into the abyss, you realise it is staring right back at you.’ <em>Expressen</em></p>
<p>‘How something can be simultaneously so powerful and so precise is hard to comprehend. But as a depiction of human existence in today’s evermore precarious labour market, it is brilliant. The truth is that it’s rare to find literary prose, or for that matter political criticism, as refined as this.’ <em>Dagens Nyheter</em></p>
<p>‘Tichý describes disturbing incidents with bracing candour. Taken together, these stories form an unforgettable tableau of life on the edge.’ <em>Publishers Weekly</em></p>
<p>‘A dizzying look inside the heads of people at the margins.’ <em>Kirkus Reviews</em></p>
<p>‘These are nimble stories, nauseating and discordant, that shuffle your feelings and loyalties as you read them.’ Sarah Gale, <em>Literary Review</em></p>
<p>‘What Tichý’s written – it’s a great collection of stories as well as a lucid and biting political commentary on the rough position of current migrants to Sweden – is also a manifesto against the strictures placed upon the narratorial voice and the tie between narrator and author, created by “the hacks and essayists” of “our reality” and reinforced by the recent prominence of autofictions and literary obsession with “identity.”’ Jonah Howell, <em>The Rumpus</em></p>
<p>‘Do you enjoy your short fiction with bleak imagery, unsettling twists, and characters discovering their capacity for antisocial behaviour? Welcome to Andrzej Tichý’s <em>Purity</em>, then.’ Tobias Carroll, <em>Words without Borders</em></p>
The stories in Purity take the reader through cities and suburbs, apartments and streets, to find characters struggling to survive in modern society: a man has an outburst on a bus; a fugitive finds insight in a colour wheel; a social realist kills his friend with a hammer; a thief finds himself in books. And cleaners reluctantly go on cleaning. With gravity and humour, against the backdrop of a violent civilization, people are depicted as fallen, or waiting to fall, rendered by Tichý with the fury, compassion and emotional complexity of Kendrick Lamar.
Purity’s stories take the reader through cities and suburbs, apartments and streets, to find characters struggling to survive in modern society: a man has a breakdown on a bus; a fugitive gains insight from a colour wheel; a social realist kills his friend with a hammer; a thief proclaims his innocence. And cleaners reluctantly clean up.
Praise for Wretchedness
‘An utterly phenomenal read: a masterclass in hyper-modernist experimentation, voice and form. Embracing the bitter realities of addiction, prejudice and inner-city turmoil, Tichý’s rapid prose roves internal dialogues, places, vernaculars and circumstances to expose a singular, absorbed world struggling to keep itself afloat.’ Anthony Anaxagorou
‘A deeply musical book . . . and it is testament to Nichola Smalley’s skill that this musicality survives translation . . . Wretchedness is sensitive and compelling.’ Jon Day, Financial Times
‘The tension between polyphony and cacophony is exhilarating . . . this furious novel’s brevity is deceptive; getting through it requires stamina, but our brief stay in the cellist’s mind is powerfully, nightmarishly unforgettable.’ Peter Brown, The TLS
‘What matters in this novel is how it all sounds, the clashes and stresses in the language and the energy of the surface, how it strives, ascends, descends, and trembles, like a tug-of war between weight and levity (to paraphrase a description from the book of Scelsi’s Fourth String Quartet).’ Caleb Klaces, The White Review
‘Visceral . . . a fascinating read, the real-life details of which further bolster the fiction . . . This is nightmarish, impressionistic literature whose disjointed sentences have an associative flow that accumulates to a shocking whole.’ Sarah Gilmartin, Irish Times ‘There is a kind of unholy music in this powerful, punchy, perceptive novel.’ Eithne Farry, Daily Mail
‘The polyphony of voices is tightly interwoven . . . arranged into a narrative resembling a complex musical composition . . . The book ends abruptly, as an avant-garde piece of music might, but the vibrations continue to fill the air.’ Anna Aslanyan, The Guardian
‘A blurry tornado of voices and timelines, this short novel unspools over eight paragraphs of run-on sentences swirling around the memories of a cellist raised on an estate outside Malmö . . . the novel builds to an unexpectedly heart-stopping . . . finale, with a frame-breaking time-slip that invites us to reconsider everything we’ve just read as a stylistically radical expression of survivor’s guilt.’ Anthony Cummins, Book of the Day The Observer
‘Graphic depictions of crime, racism, poverty, drug use and violence are rendered through paragraph-free slabs of text that propulsively veer between voices and minds, times and locations. As well as the Swedish estates, the novel draws on Tichý’s experiences of living in Hamburg and London to paint a picture of a pan-European community of the excluded passing through squats, underground clubs, petty scams and cash-only employment. Tichý’s early creative life centered on music and there is a sense of musicality inherent Wretchedness.' Nicholas Wroe, Guardian