Twisted Spoon is an English language publisher of Eastern European literature, based in Prague. Their mission, according to their website, includes the translation of 'eclectic and unique' works previously denied to English readers. Enter Natasza Goerke. Polish by birth, she now resides in Germany, having spent considerable periods of time on the Indian subcontinent.

Farewells to Plasma is subtitled 'stories by Natasza Goerke'. I'm not sure that the word 'stories' is entirely appropriate. Many of the pieces are informed by Goerke's exposure to eastern philosophy, and are more akin to the koan of Buddhist literature than traditional western storytelling. Many of them resist simple interpretation. Goerke gives us tantalising glimpses of traditional structures, such as narrative, cause and context, only to repeatedly pull the rug from under us. In a telling piece, called 'Stories', she presents three alternative single line narratives, refuses to elaborate on them, and finishes by concluding that further scrutiny of them would be futile. Other pieces have hints of plots, narratives without causes. Our fragmentary experience as readers inevitably leads to a failure to understand the whole, and Goerke seems to deny that this should even be a goal. As readers we expect context to illuminate a story, whereas Goerke seems to think it serves to obscure, so it is frequently lacking.

If this all sounds terribly serious, that's because some of it is, but Goerke also has a delicious sense of humour. Some of the pieces read like absurd jokes, albeit with obscure punchlines. 'The Final Blow' is a funny short piece about a dying woman waiting serendipitously for her true love to arrive, only to decide that she should probably just give him a call. 'Different Schools of Perception' has two people arguing over the merits of sucking rather than chewing, only for the reader to find that they are arguing about how best to appreciate music, not food.

Farewells to Plasma can be a difficult book to read, and certainly won't be for everyone. Adjectives such as infuriating and nonsensical have been applied to it (even the book jacket plumps for 'bewildering'). I would be lying if I claimed that I could provide a pat summary of the book's aims, or that none of the pieces went flying wildly over my head. However, there were many moments that I felt compelled to re-read, pieces that twisted accepted truths about my expectations as a reader, and her role as a writer. There is gravity and levity in equal measure, which humanised the philosophy and lightened the load on my aching brain. Difficult, certainly, but worth it? Definitely.