No, this book is not about 45. Although in many ways, it's as unsettling and unnerving as his presidency.
This slim tale--or fable--is the story of Marina, who, as the book opens, is in a car crash which kills her parents. She is hospitalized for a long while, then taken to an orphanage that seems almost too good to be true. The other little girls there are happy, love the orphanage, the staff is kind and supportive. But when Marina arrives, with a doll given to her during her hospitalization, she throws things off balance. The other little girls don't quite know what to make of her, nor she them.
But things really go awry when Marina creates a game and invites the other girls to play with her at night, when they're supposed to be sleeping. It's an eerie game that no one seems to enjoy, yet none of them can help participating in it. And ultimately, it gets darker and darker.
I can't say much more than that. This tale is creepy as all get out, not least of which because it's told in such a strange way, with repetitive sentences and images (let's just say that Walt Disney and his empire play a role that he would probably not really like) and undercurrents of evil simmering under the surface. The story is told in sections of Marina's third-person POV alternating with that of the other little girls, told in a collective "we" voice. How much of the writing's strength is due to the translator, I don't know. I read it in one sitting, and it left me uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Which is to say, I may seek out more of this author's work.