Fic­tion

Berlin Atom­ized

Julia Korn­berg; Jack Rock­well, trans.

  • Review
By – February 17, 2025

Julia Kornberg’s Berlin Atom­ized is a lucid and incred­i­bly intrigu­ing nov­el. It is both a com­ing-of-age jour­ney, fueled by the rest­less rage of ado­les­cence, and an odyssey into a stark­ly real­is­tic vision of a world on the verge of collapse. 

The sto­ry fol­lows Nina, a four­teen-year-old girl who bathes mul­ti­ple times a day — as if try­ing to wash away the weight of her upper-class life. She lives in Nordelta, a gat­ed com­mu­ni­ty on the out­skirts of Buenos Aires, with a dis­tant moth­er, an absent father, and two broth­ers — Jere­mías and Mateo — each seek­ing their own way to escape the neighborhood’s suf­fo­cat­ing air. Jere­mías dives into the city’s under­ground music scene. Mateo gets lost and joins the Israeli Defense Forces. Nina, ini­tial­ly trapped in her rit­u­als of silent baths and haunt­ing mantra — I’m not asleep” — even­tu­al­ly lets go. Her lethar­gy evolves into an unset­tling desire to leave. She will tear her world apart and burn it down, lit­tle by lit­tle, just like her brothers.

Set across Buenos Aires — where Julia Korn­berg grew up — and Uruguay, Israel, Paris, and Berlin, the nov­el unfolds through episodes that alter­nate between Nina and Jere­mías’ per­spec­tives, span­ning from the ear­ly 2000s to 2035. The nar­ra­tive moves fast, the years fly­ing by as the world as we know it begins to dis­in­te­grate; the inter­nal wars the sib­lings bat­tle with­in them­selves spill out onto the streets. Pol­i­tics, cul­ture, and media spi­ral before our eyes into a black hole of vio­lence that feels dis­turbing­ly plausible.

From its first pages, the book immers­es read­ers in a labyrinthine, razor-sharp prose. His­to­ry repeats itself. First as a tragedy, and then as a tragedy, and then as a tragedy, and then again,” writes Korn­berg. Exis­ten­tial and sad­ly prophet­ic, Berlin Atom­ized offers a glimpse of the loom­ing col­lapse we face and the per­sis­tence of the human desire to feel alive despite it.

This year, the book was trans­lat­ed into Eng­lish. Hav­ing pre­vi­ous­ly read it in its orig­i­nal Span­ish, I was intrigued to learn from Korn­berg her­self — with whom I shared some warm Argen­tin­ian din­ners and con­ver­sa­tions in New York — that it under­went sig­nif­i­cant edit­ing dur­ing the trans­la­tion process, done along­side Jack Rock­well. The result is remark­able. As Korn­berg notes, Some things can’t be trans­lat­ed.” And so what is untrans­lat­able remains so — untouched. Argen­tine slang, jokes, and expres­sions are seam­less­ly woven into the Eng­lish text, adding a unique urban tex­ture and authen­tic­i­ty to this already cul­tur­al­ly lay­ered piece. 

With a bit­ing voice, Korn­berg crafts an all-encom­pass­ing nar­ra­tive that tran­scends the bound­aries of the tra­di­tion­al nov­el. By the end, one feels the need to return to the begin­ning, as though to con­firm it is the same book that has unfold­ed all along. In Nina’s words, this sto­ry is a con­tem­po­rary tale of Babel — a bold, mul­ti­lin­gual, entan­gled explo­ration of the con­flict­ed human con­di­tion. Berlin Atom­ized is a mod­ern, fas­ci­nat­ing dystopia; a med­i­ta­tion on the frac­tured real­i­ties of our time and those that may lie ahead.

Jes­si­ca Ruet­ter is a writer and the founder of Bib­liofil­ia, an online plat­form ded­i­cat­ed to Span­ish-lan­guage lit­er­a­ture. Through inter­views with Latin Amer­i­can authors and book rec­om­men­da­tions, she con­nects read­ers across the His­pan­ic world. She recent­ly grad­u­at­ed from Uni­ver­si­dad Tor­cu­a­to Di Tel­la in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

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