The Big Book Award announced its eight-book shortlist back on
Wednesday and I still haven’t quite figured out what I think of it other than
that I’m grateful not to see any megabiographies. On the one hand, I’m glad
that there are two women on the list after last year’s list included zero. On
the other hand, I’d have loved to have seen a few more unfamiliar names—and more
women—on the list. On some happy third hand that I often wish I had, I thank the
committee for naming a shortlist that’s close to genuinely short and is (blogger
bonus!) composed of fairly translatable titles.
Here’s the list, in Russian alphabetical order by author
surname:
Alexander Arkhangel’sky’s
Бюро проверки
(Verification Bureau or something of the sort)
is set in 1980 Moscow (think: Olympics) and depicts how the main character is “tested”
for stability (think: Cold War). Recommended by a friend. Easily beachable at 416
pages with a mass of 384 grams.
Dmitry Bykov’s Июнь (June) is set during 1939-1941 and brings together three characters
and their stories (which apparently cover three genres) making the book sound relatively
economical at 512 pages and 572 grams. Recommended by a different friend.
Alexei
Vinokurov’s Люди черного
дракона (People of the Black Dragon) is set along
the Amur River (apparently known in Chinese as Black Dragon) around the time of
the 1917 revolution. I’d never heard of Vinokurov so this is a mystery book for
me. It’s also very nimble at 288 pages with a mass of 366 grams.
Yevgeny
Grishkovets’s
Театр отчаяния. Отчаянный театр (Theater of Despair. Desperate Theater, I
guess) is labeled as a “memoiristic novel.” The book came out very recently and
the descriptions are brief, though the book itself is anything but brief at 912
pages. And at 1320 grams (including packaging) it’s certainly not light
reading.
Oleg Yermakov’s Радуга
и Вереск (Rainbow
and Heather, though is this literal?…) is big, too, at 736 pages (massing
out at relatively compact 564 grams) and it sounds like it also blends multiple stories, one set in the seventeenth
century, the other in 2015. Lots of friends have recommended Yermakov to me
over the years so I’m eager to try this one.
Olga
Slavnikova’s Прыжок в длину
(Long Jump) concerns a young athlete who loses his lower extremities when he leaps
to save a boy from being hit by a car. Though interesting for its portrayal of
the long-term aftermath of the accident (the characters aren’t especially
sympathetic and there’s a lot of social commentary), I felt bogged down by
metaphors and similes around page 150 and put the book on hold. At 512 pages
and 460 grams, though, it’s relatively manageable compared to some of these
other finalists, plus I am pretty curious about what happens. Also recommended
by friends.
Maria
Stepanova’s Памяти
памяти (I’ll call it In Memory of
Memory, as this
LARB interview does) is probably the book I’ve heard the most about, meaning
that it also comes recommended, as a book about cultural history, family
history, and, yes, memory. This sounds like such a thoughtful book that it
feels thoroughly uncouth to give its bare statistics: 408 pages, 546 grams.
Andrei
Filimonov’s Рецепты сотворения
мира (Recipes
for the Creation of the World) is so nicely summarized in Galina Yuzefovich’s
review
for Meduza, translated by Hilah Kohen, that I’ll leave the description to them.
I will add, though, that the book’s cover says “От Парижа
до Сибири через весь ХХ век”
(“From Paris to Siberia, through the entire twentieth century”), putting me in
awe of Filimonov for limiting himself to a very efficient 320 pages that mass
in at 375 grams.
Yes, this polleny past week made me a
little silly…
Disclaimers and Disclosures:
Not much other than the usual
and that the Slavnikova book was given to me by the organizers of the Russia
stand at the Frankfurt Book Fair, thank you!
Up Next: More
from the heavy “write about” shelf: a short story roundup, Sergei Kuznetsov’s Teacher Dymov, Janet Fitch’s The Revolution of Marina M. (I’m already
waiting for the sequel!), and Vladimir Sharov’s The Rehearsals in Oliver Ready’s translation. And then there’s a
Vladimir Makanin novella… and whatever I start tonight.
Rainbow and Heather, though is this literal?
ReplyDeleteI'm going to impress you yet again with my title-explication skills: it turns out 'rainbow' is the meaning of Belorussian vyasyolka, and 'heather' is the meaning of Polish wrzos, which is the base of the family name Wrzosek; Nikolaus Wrzosek is the 1632 protagonist, and Vyasyolka is the name of a woman who plays a role in his life.
And I see Dahl has "Веселка ж. пск. смл. радуга," so it's a Russian dialect word as well.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Languagehat! And I apologize for my very delayed response -- no comment notification came through. (I even checked all my trash!)
ReplyDeleteYour title-explication skills are, as always, top-notch, thank you. I guess I'll keep title this as is for the time being, and then see how this one sounds after some reading. Thank you again!
I don't think there's any other way to translate the title; that's the way Russian readers would understand it, and they'd be just as bewildered as we are. (I'm guessing some less alert readers will be just as bewildered after they finish it, since you have to be keeping an eagle eye out to catch the explanations I provided.)
Delete