Ledia Xhoga’s debut novel, Misinterpretation, follows the life of a 30-something Albanian interpreter in present-day New York City. Married to Billy, a film professor at NYU whom she had met while working for the United Nations, she seems purposeful, comfortable and happy.
But underneath this unintentional charade, she struggles with memories of war and poverty from her childhood in Albania. This personal connection to the constant parade of translation clients coming in and out of her life makes it nearly impossible to set boundaries with them, and she often puts their needs before Billy’s and her own.
Things take a turn for the worse when she signs up to interpret for a Kosovar torture survivor named Alfred while also setting out to help a Kurdish poet named Leyla. Unable to stop herself from taking on Alfred and Leyla’s problems, she takes risks that put her own life and marriage on the line.
Xhoga unfolds the story in the squares and streets of New York City, and also gives a few glimpses of Albania’s capital, Tirana, to which our protagonist escapes briefly to see her aging mother and find herself. Supporting characters with diverse experiences and various social statuses provide different perspectives on the protagonist’s struggles, although disappointingly, many storylines are left without conclusions.
It is hard to say exactly why Xhoga chose to keep her protagonist unnamed. Regardless, her narration immerses readers in the ongoing melancholy and helplessness that she feels for being unable to save every troubled person who comes her way. Questions come up repeatedly: How much of ourselves do we see in others? And how much of their pain can we ignore for our own sanity?
Misinterpretation is compassionate and well written, giving all of us a chance to consider how our histories impact the decisions we make today.
