An extract from Misinterpretation by Ledia Xhoga
‘His face seemed stuck in between expressions. It reminded me of an unfinished Rubik’s Cube we kept around the house, which I could never resist trying to solve’
Ledia Xhoga’s ruminative debut novel interrogates the darker legacies of family and country, and the boundary between compassion and self-preservation
In present-day New York City, an Albanian interpreter reluctantly agrees to work with Alfred, a Kosovar torture survivor, during his therapy sessions. Despite her husband’s cautions, she soon becomes entangled in her clients’ struggles: Alfred’s nightmares stir up her own buried memories, and an impulsive attempt to help a Kurdish poet leads to a risky encounter and a reckless plan.
As ill-fated decisions stack up, jeopardising the nameless narrator’s marriage and mental health, she takes a spontaneous trip to reunite with her mother in Albania, where her life in the United States is put into stark relief. When she returns to face the consequences of her actions, she must question what is real and what is not.
Ledia Xhoga
About the Author
Born and raised in Tirana, Albania, Ledia Xhoga is a fiction writer and playwrightMisinterpretation subtly blurs the distinction between help and harm. We found it propulsive, unsettling, and strangely human
— The Booker Prize 2025 judges
What the judges said
‘A Kosovan torture survivor requests translation assistance at his therapy sessions. Our narrator, a nameless translator, reluctantly agrees. But Alfred’s account of his experiences conjures hidden memories that seep into her psyche, forcing her to question her marriage and her place in the world. This is a story of a woman saddled between her Albanian past and her New York present. It explores the way that language is kept in our bodies, how it can reveal truths we aren’t ready to hear. Misinterpretation subtly blurs the distinction between help and harm. We found it propulsive, unsettling, and strangely human.’
What the critics said
Lucy Popescu, Observer
‘Part of the pleasure of the novel, which is related in a direct, matter-of-fact tone, comes from second-guessing what the (occasionally unreliable) narrator has withheld or misinterpreted and how it affects others. Alfred misreads her compassion. She misconstrues others’ expectations, risking her marriage and mental health. The book is a nuanced exploration of communication failures, blurred boundaries and the emotional cost of unchecked altruism.’
