Happy Wednesday, everyone! Wednesdays also mean WWW Wednesday updates. WWW Wednesday is a bookish meme hosted originally by SAM@TAKING ON A WORLD OF WORDS. 

The mechanics for WWW Wednesday are quite simple: you just have to answer three questions:

  1. What are you currently reading?
  2. What have you finished reading?
  3. What will you read next?
www-wednesdays
What are you currently reading?

It is already the middle of the week. How has your week been, so far? I hope it’s going well and heading in your desired direction. We’ve already crossed the midpoint of the year and that we are already in the second half of the year. Over the weekend, I just turned a year older. Anyway, I hope the year has been going well for everyone. I hope you’re being showered with blessings and good news. May the rest of the year be prosperous—brimming with wealth, but more importantly, with good physical and mental health. I hope everyone is already making progress on their goals. If the year has gone otherwise, I hope you’ll experience a reversal of fortune in the months to come. In terms of reading, I am well ahead of my goal, but I’ve been lagging behind in my reading challenges. As such, my focus in the second half of the year will be on catching up with those.

After spending the first six months of the year reading exclusively works by Asian writers, I’m now pivoting towards European literature. I have already been to Hungary with Magda Szabó’s Abigail and David Szalay’s Flesh. Currently, I have moved to Iceland with my third novel by Nobel Laureate in Literature Halldór Laxness, The Fish Can Sing. Interestingly, before the pandemic, I had never heard of Laxness. It was through online booksellers that I first came across him. About five years later, I am now reading my third Laxness novel, The Fish Can Sing. Originally published in 1957 as Brekkukotsannáll (Annals of Brekkukot), it is his first major work after his recognition by the Swedish Academy. I just started reading the book today, but the Introduction provided me with some glimpses into the story.

Set in a cottage named Brekkukot – hence, the Icelandic title – in Reykjavík, the novel chronicles the fortunes of Álfgrímur, an orphaned boy who was living with his adoptive grandparents. His adoptive grandfather Jón earns a living as a fisherman. He fishes for herring, cod, lumpfish, and other fish from his little boat out at sea, and sells the fish from the wheelbarrow he pushes through town. He was an honest man who kept the price of his catch at the same level regardless of the conditions. However, it was not a lucrative means of living. So far, these are what I was able to glean from the story. I don’t have much of an impression to share yet, although the atmosphere feels familiar. I must say Laxness is quite consistent in his writing. Interestingly, The Fish Can Sing is the shortest of the three Laxness novels I have read so far.

What have you finished reading?

As mentioned above, my foray into European literature commenced with a familiar writer in Magda Szabó, who, like Laxness, I first encountered through online booksellers. It was during the time when I came across New York Review Books for the first time, back in 2019. My interest piqued, I acquired a copy of her novel The Door. It was a memorable read, a deep delve into one’s most intimate thoughts, that made me look forward to reading more of her works. It was also a sort of primer to Hungarian literature, as the book opened more opportunities to read works of Hungarian writers. I would eventually read the works of László Krasznahorkai, Péter Nádas, and Nobel Laureate in Literature Imre Kertész.

Over six years since my first Szabó novel, I finally made good on the promise to explore her oeuvre further with Abigail, my second novel by the Hungarian writer. Originally published in Hungarian in 1970, the novel charts the adventures of Georgina “Gina” Vitay, the daughter of a general living and working in the Hungarian capital of Budapest. Gina’s mother has already passed away. When the story commenced, Gina was forced to move from the capital to the fictional town of Árkod in the easternmost part of Hungary, where she was set to attend the Matula Institute, a traditionally Calvinist school. The Matula Institute adheres to a stringent set of rules, which left the liberated Gina disoriented. Life in Árkod is also drab compared to Budapest, where she attended operas, visited art museums, and mingled with a genteel crowd in her aunt’s salons. It did not help that Gina earned the ire of her fellow students. Resented by her classmates in a world far from the comforts of home, Gina found herself alone. After her escape plan was foiled, Gina was prompted to embrace her fate.

After learning to embrace the school and its traditions, Gina realizes that it was not bad at all. She also learned about the legends that proliferate every corner, particularly of the titular Abigail. Apparently, it is the name given to the statue of a woman located in the school grounds. Legends have it that the statue helps resolve the girl’s concern if they write to Abigail. Gina was initially apprehensive about the legends until she became the recipient of one of the letters. This piques Gina’s curiosity, prompting her to try and find out who Abigail really is. Coming-of-age merges with mystery in Abigail, with remnants of the war reverberating in the background. The book is an iteration of the magic of Szabó’s writing and storytelling.

From one Hungarian writer to another, at least one who is of Hungarian origins. Before this year, I had never heard of Hungarian-English writer David Szalay. It was only while researching books to include in my 2025 Books I Look Forward To List that I first encountered him. His latest novel, Flesh, was a recurring presence in several 2025 most anticipated releases lists. With my interest piqued, I included the book in my own list, making it the third book from my 2025 Books I Look Forward To List that I read. Acquiring a copy of the book proved to be a challenge; I acquired my copy of the book during my recent trip to Singapore.

At the heart of Flesh is István, whom we first meet as a shy and awkward adolescent living in a Hungarian housing project with his mother. While his mother was away, Istvan passively entered into his first sexual relationship with his neighbor, a married and older woman. Their intimacy made me surmise that the title was derived from this. Anyway, when the woman’s husband passed away, his death was blamed on the fifteen-year-old István. As such, Istvan served time in juvenile detention and alongside Norwegian soldiers in Iraq. This was the commencement of an eventful life. Things started looking up for István when he was invited into security work. He became a chauffeur in London for a family of one-percenters. Slowly but without design, he managed to penetrate the family’s inner circle. Before long, István becomes one of them, wearing luxury brands and flying private jets. From his humble origins in Hungary, he managed to scale the complex social ladder of London. In a nutshell, Flesh is the quintessential rags-to-riches story.

But there is more to the story than meets the eye. In a way, the rags-to-riches story obscures the deeper messages of the book. Flesh is an in-depth examination of an individual. Szalay vividly paints the portrait of a man who, in his middle age. was psychologically isolated and taciturn. He lacked conversational flair and charisma, but somehow, life’s forces made him the man he is today. He does come across as a drifter for the most part, but Szalay does remind the readers of his existence. He figured in acts of violence and even yearned for physical urges. He was also surrounded by a bevy of characters who are as morally gray and as emotionally detached as István. Overall, Flesh is an interesting read, a deviation from my typical read.

What will you read next?