Natasha Wimmer doesn't get too many words for her New York Times review of Ghosts by Cesar Aira, but she does make them count:
Aira likes nothing better than to probe the obscure workings of the mind, but he also writes scenes of great prosaic beauty. The modest, lovely New Year’s Eve party on the roof, complete with firecrackers and piles of fruit (“mosque-shaped apricots, bunches of green and black grapes, . . . bleeding strawberries”), is a velvety backdrop for the novel’s shocking final act.
At one point earlier in the book, we learn that Patri could have earned a blue belt in karate but never took the exam, “for various reasons, including her innate distaste for perfection.” That distaste is shared by Aira, and it is one of the keys to an appreciation of his novels. Any time an image, thought or scene is about to settle harmoniously, he jerks the floor out from underfoot.
As far as I know Aira, that nails him. See also our review of Ghosts and our interview with Wimmer.