Kirkus Reviews, One of Six Books in Translation to Read Now
"This first novel by an established poet examines the marginalized lives of European laborers . . . Although Kampmann addresses current events, such as environmental degradation and the precariousness of modern Europe, her focus is on how ideas of masculinity affect one man’s ability to grieve." ––The New Yorker
"A grim representation of working-class characters, told through the lens of a man of few words . . . And the author, who juxtaposes an intensely poetic writing style with her main character’s unyieldingly austere inner monologue, drives home the inescapable inevitability of loss and the relentless indifference of time." ―Ashley Sather, Vox
"An evocative road novel, a powerful account of grief and loss, and a subtle portrait of the dangers facing the working class. When you add an array of stark, beautiful sentences into the mix, the result is a thoroughly haunting, deeply moving novel." ––Tobias Carroll, Words Without Borders
"It is unexpected to encounter a modern-day Moby Dick with the same dangerous stakes, but, for workers under global capitalism, the sea remains as treacherous as ever. Capitalism’s disregard for human life is as deadly now as it was on the Pequod . . . Kampmann uses her gifts not to make the ugliness of global capitalism palatable, but to resist it, in the tradition of Audre Lorde . . . This novel fulfills the essentially radical task of poetry." ––Fiona Bell, Chicago Review
"This is climate fiction―a genre that explores climate change in fictional narratives―at its best." ―Amy Brady, Literary Hub
"The beautiful English-language debut from German poet Kampmann tells the story of a middle-aged oil rig worker’s emotional crisis after the death of his friend . . . As Waclaw digs up memories of his drilling throughout the world―in Morocco, Mexico, and Brazil―he ruminates on generations of workers who must eke out a living by exploiting the earth and its resources. Kampmann captures the visceral uneasiness that arises from second guessing one’s past." ––Publishers Weekly
"In her debut novel, German poet Kampmann touchingly and intimately illustrates the fallout of capitalism’s dependence on oil . . . This is a haunting exploration of the devastating costs all kinds of gig workers have to bear to feed themselves and the belly of the beast." ––Booklist
"The story of a man at the edge, a story of displacement and existential loneliness told with restraint . . . A poet’s novel in the richness of its imagery and the exquisiteness of the language." ––Library Journal
"A quiet but powerful novel . . . Kampmann’s characters are memorable; her dialogue spare but realistic. Her prose, ably translated by Posten, isn’t showy, but it’s quite pretty and, at times, gorgeous . . . A thoughtful, unsparing look at loss . . . A promising fiction debut with understated but beautiful writing." ―Kirkus Reviews
"Anja Kampmann’s novel, translated from the German by Anne Posten, is meandering ― in a good way. You feel Waclaw’s pain and sorrow for his lost friend. You feel how terrible the oil drilling business is, and how it crushes the men who work on the rigs." ––Emily Burack, One of Hey Alma's Favorite Books for Fall
"Prose with the brightness of poetry, in a splendidly lucid translation." ―Jennifer Croft, author of Homesick and co-winner with Olga Tokarczuk of the International Booker Prize for Flights
"So beautifully written, Anja Kampmann's novel is one of those very rare things: a debut of a literary master . . . High as the Waters Rise is our time's answer to the timeless Gilgamesh myth: a friend is lost, and a journey begins, teaching us with such passion about our world, its terrors, its injustices, its moments of piercing tenderness . . . Of any time, an epic. I am deeply grateful to Anja Kampmann for the gift to us that is this novel, and to her translator, Anne Posten, for the crisp and precise version in English. This is the book to live with." ―Ilya Kaminsky, author of Deaf Republic and Dancing in Odessa
