“A haunting and provocative novel about the mysteries of life and a death, the written word, things seen and unseen, heard and forgotten. Amy Rowland’s writing is compelling and masterful.” ―Delia Ephron, author of The Lion Is In Once, there were many transcriptionists at the Record, a behemoth New York City newspaper, but new technology and the ease of communication has put most of them out of work. So now Lena, the last transcriptionist, sits alone in a room--a human conduit, silently turning reporters’ recorded stories into print--until the day she encounters a story so shocking that it shatters the reverie that has become her life. This exquisite novel, written by a woman who spent more than a decade as a transcriptionist at the New York Times, asks probing questions about journalism and ethics, about the decline of the newspaper and the failure of language. It is also the story of a woman’s effort to establish her place in an increasingly alien and alienating world. “A strange, mesmerizing novel about language, isolation, ethics, technology, and the lack of trust between institutions and the people they purportedly serve . . . A fine debut novel about the decline of newspapers and the subsequent loss of humanity--and yes, these are related.” ― Booklist, starred review “Ambitious and fascinating . . . Disturbing and powerful . . . Recommended for fans of literary fiction.” ― Library Journal “Rowland’s farcical approach . . . is balanced by the novel’s realistic insights into journalistic integrity, the evolution of contemporary newspaper publishing, and, more broadly, the importance of genuine communication.” ― Publishers Weekly “Unforgettable. Written with such delight, compassion, and humanity, it’s newsworthy.” ―Alex Gilvarry, author of From the Memoirs of a Non-Enemy Combatant *Starred Review* Lena may well be the last newspaper transcriptionist in America. She sits alone with a headset and a Dictaphone and transcribes every single word that has been recorded for the Record. Her life is as colorless as the room she works in—in a word, gray. The window of her office has not been open for three years, not since a transcriptionist opened it to see the body of a reporter who committed suicide by jumping to his death. Lena spends most of her timetranscribing long interviews that are incorporated into the newspaper’s stories, and even as she drowns in words, she believes in the power of language. Words, she thought, would save her; but, ironically, as she copies the words of others, she speaks to fewer and fewer people. Rowland, a former transcriptionist for the New York Times, has written a strange, mesmerizing novel about language, isolation, ethics, technology, and the lack of trust between institutions and the people they purportedly serve. It references Chaucer and the literary denizens of the Algonquin Hotel and recalls in its own idiosyncratic way Herman Melville’s equally enigmatic short story Bartleby, the Scrivener. A fine debut novel about the decline of newspapers and the subsequent loss of ­humanity—and yes, these are related. --June Sawyers “ The Transcriptionist holds many pleasures . . . [and] can be read through many lenses . . . Rowland plays with the notions of truth and reliability . . . It is the responsibility of a journalist to report the truth, but what if--Rowland asks--objective reality is a fiction? . . . Sharp and affecting.” — The New York Times Book Review “Rowland, a former transcriptionist for the New York Times , has written a strange, mesmerizing novel about language, isolation, ethics, technology, and the lack of trust between institutions and the people they purportedly serve . . . A fine debut novel about the decline of newspapers and the subsequent loss of humanity--and yes, these are related.” — Booklist , starred review “If one had to name an antecedent for the strange, golden sheen that covers Amy Rowland’s debut novel, possibly early John Cheever, with its dreamy imaginings of commuter intrigues, or beautifully cadenced, resonant verbal exchanges, would be closest. Entering the city Rowland creates, with its tightly strung dialogue and soulful, lonely citizens, is a memorable experience.” — The Boston Globe “The magic of this book . . . [is that] Rowland demonstrates a gift for making mystery out of a concrete style. Paul Harding has advised writers to write ‘as precisely and as lucidly and as richly’ as they can about mysterious things, instead of writing with mystery and obscurity about clichés; much of The Transcriptionist would likely please him . . . Rowland shows her dexterity with language--her skill at nailing precisely what is mysterious about something or someone with originality, yet without preciousness . . . Remarkable.” — The Rumpus “A lively tale, light and enjoyable, about a sensitive, reflective and articulate soul in a fast-paced, often soulless world.” — Minneapolis Star Tribune “ The Transcriptionist is su