I want to like this so much more than 3 stars. This collection is culled from 3 different books of short stories, and they are much more coherent and I want to like this so much more than 3 stars. This collection is culled from 3 different books of short stories, and they are much more coherent and cohesive and humorous in the original Russian, where they are also arranged into thematic blocs. This collection does a faithful translation job, but the elegance and humor and mystery of the original language handicaps the stories, and renders them safe and mute. Also, I feel that this book was arranged on the principle of “here are all the styles T. Tolstaya works with, a tasting menu” and the themes of the collections in Russian are so much more: family, Russian history, immigrant views, musings on contemporary objects. One of my favorite stories so far is a contemplation in the operation manual of a washing machine: I think it would have been a better choice than, for instance, See the Reverse....more
I am so conflicted. The Husband Stitch started the collection out so strongly, I was in love. This was continued in Inventory, but for all my love of I am so conflicted. The Husband Stitch started the collection out so strongly, I was in love. This was continued in Inventory, but for all my love of SVU, I couldn’t get behind Especially Heinous. Mothers left me bored, As did Eight Bites. Real Women Have Bodies was underdeveloped, the narrator in The Resident irritate me, and I wanted to know more that was hidden in Difficult At Parties. Beautiful prose, very lofty themes, super uneven in execution....more
I had very high hopes, and they were not altogether equaled. While the writing remains as lyrical as ever, I found it hard to relate to the (often) miI had very high hopes, and they were not altogether equaled. While the writing remains as lyrical as ever, I found it hard to relate to the (often) middle aged man. I loved the story about the two women and their friendship, and the titular fresh complaint. However, between these two book ends, I didnt like much about the men we encounter, and maybe that’s the point? Recommend for fans of Eugenides, but perhaps not a casual reader?...more
Never has a book depicting relentlessness of love and inevitability of loss has been this poignant to someone as vulnerable as myself. Maybe when I reNever has a book depicting relentlessness of love and inevitability of loss has been this poignant to someone as vulnerable as myself. Maybe when I read The English Patient 21 years ago, enveloped in story of another war. It’s the Soviet history. It’s the Russian soul. It’s loneliness and loss and resignation and resolutions. It was absolutely the wrong book to read right now. It was absolutely the right.
If you are looking for a light and amusing read, walk away. If you want to understand the tragedy of Russia over the last century, you will come a bit closer. Despite all lyricism and moral lessons, I started taking notes on historical inaccuracies of this book as I was reading it. It really is admirable how well researched and believable the book is in its general mien. I wanted to know if the White Forest actually exists in Norilsk or somewhere similar. I love the characters, I love the connective tissue, I love the general glints of authenticity. The lyrical declarations of storytelling are superb in their embellishments. An American would not notice anything out of place.
A Russian, though, pauses at hiccups. They are small skips on a scratched up record. A fictional bathroom large enough to fit half a couch and a television, even in communal apartments of St Petersburg. Presence of commercially available tin foil on a roll prior to 1990. Teen orthodontic mouth guards, a luxury even in 2019 for social classes below upper. Someone starting ballet at 11 years old and actually persevering. A child in a small nickel mining city having the ability to switch schools in upper grades: I doubt there were even 2 schools to choose from. Gymnastics lessons that combine multiple age groups. Yellow pencils with erasers in a Soviet school, never mind the inclusion of the use of that same-self pencil for a paragraph: in the Soviet schools of my youth, if you were noticed to be writing in a notebook with a pencil, you will immediately get a “2” or “1” mark, an equivalent of an F. Like everything else in the country, schools were highly regulated, and you were to take all notes with a blue ballpoint pen. No black, no green, no pencil, no other implements. I went through a rebellious phase in the 5th grade when I wrote with violet fountain pen for a year, and my teachers gave up on marking me down because the work was solid, and I was only making the tasks harder for myself, evading ink blotches on every page.
I do not know who is the target audience for this book. I do know that I was not, yet I will be bringing up the fictional stories told here for years as examples of everyday everyman tragedies in that country that claims my citizenship with its red passport cover and its winter skies and its nostalgie and its smells and its hot black tea and its salty Black Sea....more
I'm not sure how Gay was not on my radar at the time the essays first appeared, as I follow a lot of the publications she wrote for. Some of the essayI'm not sure how Gay was not on my radar at the time the essays first appeared, as I follow a lot of the publications she wrote for. Some of the essays are stronger than others, but to echo one of my friends, reading this was like having a conversation with one of my college classmates: smart, insightful, humorous, entertaining, at times devastating. To paraphrase her conclusion, to be a bad feminist is better than to be none at all. I appreciate her takes on pop culture and race, and I look forward to reading Hunger....more
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