Vladimir Orlov’s Альтист Данилов (Danilov, the Violist) is, for this reader, dualistic on multiple levels. The short version: this novel about a violist who’s half-human, half-demon left me with mixed feelings. Though some sections drag, I understand why many people consider Danilov a cult novel: it is often hilarious, and it includes touches like a space-age duel that results in a bodily gravitational collapse. And how could I possibly dislike a good-natured book that stars a violist and contains lines like “Фу-ты, человеком пахнет!” (Roughly “Phooey, smells like a human!”)
A brief but relevant interlude about the viola: I’ve always loved the deep, earthy sound of the viola but I remember from my violin-playing years that violists rarely get solos. Viola parts are sometimes rewritten as third violin, parts I’ve played… think third fiddle. Unfortunately the dearth of good viola parts is one reason there are many unflattering stereotypes and jokes, in many cultures, about violists. Violist and ethnomusicologist Carl Rahkonen’s “No Laughing Matter: The Viola Joke as Musician’s Folklore,” a paper presented at the 1994 National Meeting of the American Folklore Society and the Society for Ethnomusicology, provides perspective. (abstract here)
So! Orlov’s Danilov is a talented violist living in Brezhnev-era Moscow. He plays in orchestras and inspires a composer to write a piece just for him. Most of his life lacks in glamour: his ex-wife asks for favors, he forgets to retrieve his pants from the drycleaner, and he’s in debt. He is also falling in love. The mild-mannered Danilov lacks the flamboyance you might expect of a demon and doesn’t seem too unusual unless you know he enjoys bathing in lightning and can perform bits of magic that he sometimes regrets later.
Danilov’s love for music and dislike of wreaking havoc on earth mean trouble with his demonic handlers – he’s just too human. When Danilov travels through time and space to the Nine Layers (headquarters) for something resembling a trial, he is accused of being too helpful to earthlings. They know, for example, that he’s helped old ladies cross the street. One demon asks: “Какая пользя нам от этой старушки!” (“What use is that old lady to us!”) The clash of values between Danilov and the demons has a strongly allegorical feel. Though the demons don’t have ultimate power over humans, these growers of UFOs certainly aren’t do-gooders, and their reasoning and bureaucratic language are reminiscent of the Soviet government.
Reviews of Danilov often note similarities to Mikhail Bulgakov’s Мастер и Маргарита (Master and Margarita). Sure, there are common themes, such as parodying bureaucracy and showing struggles between earthly and otherworldly figures. Still, though both authors incorporate plenty of humor, the books left me with very different feels that seem to reflect their times. Master and Margarita leans toward darker philosophy and religion and is intellectually heftier. Danilov, with its everydayness and rational resolution, tilts toward cozier fantastical fiction about a musician I might have seen on the Moscow Metro.
Summary: I loved Danilov’s humor and magical touches. There are many more layers of characters, subplots, and themes I haven’t mentioned, including a blue bull, silencism, and people who claim to know the future. Unfortunately, these various and varying parts don’t always quite dovetail into a harmonious book. Still, Danilov is often an impressively imaginative novel, and I will look for Orlov’s more recent books -- Камергерский переулок (Kamergerskii Lane) was short-listed for the 2009 Big Book. I would particularly recommend Danilov to anyone predisposed to enjoy the combination of humor, music, and fantasy/science fiction.
Viola photo by surfbird, via sxc.hu. Photo is called "My Viola1," and carries the note "No, it's not a violin, it's a viola."
