The Human Part

A devastating event renders elderly Paavo mute, and drives Salme, his wife, to sell her story. A shrewd businesswoman, she'll use the money to help her daughter, but she won't tell her husband.

To each other, these characters are impenetrable. Only the author - and reader - know their thoughts. Hotakainen slips from one family member's mind to the next, sometimes mid-paragraph. This breaking of writing rules is ironic, given that communication and the lack of it are central to The Human Part.

There's also an ironic dose of yearning for the old Finland - be it the soughing of wind in forests, or gazing out at the unbridled sea, or the lost idyll of sitting under a maple tree. Who has time for these now the only thing that matters is success in business?

Slick conference speeches, language for sacking people, sales patter - all figure here. So, too, does never telling anyone you're heading for failure. Paavo won't speak, and Salme's preferred method of communication is notes on postcards. Only sign-writer Alfred Supinen is lauded for always having something meaningful to say. And he committed suicide years ago.

It's when the family really communicate that there's progress, though one man must lose the power of speech for Paavo to regain his. But don't tell Salme.

A witty, satirical novel, sympathetically translated.