Big Book’s Long 2010 Short List &tc.

2010 Big Book Finalists. The Big Book award people issued their short-but-long list of 14 finalists today. The jury has plenty of time to read: the winners won’t be named until November.

The finalists are:

• Andrei Baldin – Московские праздные дни (Idle Moscow Days)
• Pavel Basinskii – ЛЕВ ТОЛСТОЙ: бегство из рая (LEV TOLSTOY: Escape From Heaven/Paradise)
• Evgenii Vodolazkin – Соловьёв и Ларионов (Solov’ev i Larionov) (description with brief excerpt)
• Mikhail Gigolashvili – Чертово колесо (The Devil’s Wheel) (5 глав из романа)
• Boris Evseev – Евстигней (Evstigney). This one is evidently a historical novel about Evstigney Fomin (excerpt)
• Oleg Zaionchkovskii – Счастье возможно: Роман нашего времени (Happiness Is Possible: A Novel of Our Time) (excerpts)
• Aleksandr Ilichevskii – Перс (The Persian) (excerpt)
• Evgenii Kliuev – Андерманир штук (Something Else for You – (?) I found a translation of the Russian title phrase in this article by Catriona Kelly)
• Pavel Krusanov – Мёртвый язык (A/The Dead Language)
• Oleg Pavlov – Асистолия (Asystole [Flatline]) (начало) (окончание)
• Viktor Pelevin – t
• German Sadulaev – Шалинский рейд (The Raid on Shali) (начало) (окончание)
• Roman Senchin – Елтышевы (The Yeltyshevs) (начало) (окончание) (previous post – Disclosure: this is the book I liked so much that I contributed to a proposal for an English translation.)
• Asar Eppel’ – Латунная луна (The Brass(y?) Moon) (title story)

I have Zaionchkovskii’s book on my shelf and am looking forward to reading it soon – somehow, it looks very inviting. Several of these books appear to have been published only in journal form thus far. Speaking of “thick” journals, which are the first to publish so much of Russia’s best literary fiction, I was excited to see several shelves of journals at the Seattle Public Library when I visited last weekend.

Edit: The Комсомольская правда Web site has brief summaries of each writer’s bio plus full texts of each book online. You can get started here.

A New Blog. And a bit of news from Washington State: Jamie Olson, who translates Russian poetry into English and teaches in the English Department at Saint Martin’s University, started a blog about Russian poetry, The Flaxen Wave.

Book Expo America. After missing out on the London Book Fair I decided to go to Book Expo America next week. My agenda will include learning more about Akashic’s short story collection Moscow Noir, due out this summer, and getting a progress report from Overlook on the English translation of Liudmila Ulitskaya’s Daniel Stein, Translator (previous post).

Coming Up. I’m a little behind in writing about books I’ve read… I’ll be posting soon about Mikhail Bulgakov’s Театральный роман (known in English as Black Snow: A Theatrical Novel and A Dead Man’s Memoir: A Theatrical Novel) plus Boris Akunin’s Весь мир театр (All the World’s a Theater/Stage). I didn’t love either one, but I finished them, unlike Vladimir Makanin’s Иsпуг (Fear or Fright).

War Stories for Victory Day: Another Grekova Novella & a Sorokin Short Story

With so many news articles about this year’s Victory Day parade in Moscow, I’ve been thinking a lot about World War 2 and Russian fiction related to the war. I hadn’t realized until this week how many novels with war themes I’ve read in the last several years. I wrote a Victory Day post two years ago (here) and will add to my list of favorites at the end of this entry.

I just finished reading two pieces about the war: Irina Grekova’s 1969 novella Маленький Гарусов (Little Garusov) and Vladimir Sorokin’s short story “Кисет” (“The Tobacco Pouch”), from a collection dated 1979-1984. Little Garusov tells the story of a boy orphaned during the war who never quite grows, physically or emotionally. Garusov has a similar feel to the two other Grekova novellas (here and here) that I’ve read: clear, simple language, straightforward narrative, and a combination of light and heavy details that make the piece feel like life.

Though I agree with Helena Goscilo’s criticism (in this detailed introduction to Cathy Porter’s translation of Grekova’s Вдовий пароход (The Ship of Widows)) that Garusov meanders, I still found it an interesting portrait of the short- and long-term effects of the war on children. As a small child in wartime, Garusov often acts like an adult: he catches a crow and brings it to his mother for soup then, later, after she disappears and he’s sent to an orphanage that’s evacuated for the duration, he articulately convinces authorities to send him and his orphanage mates back to Leningrad. He wants to find his mother.

As an adult, Garusov marries and divorces, falls for “other” women, often feeling pity for them and lending money he doesn’t have. He can’t find happiness. He doesn’t know when he was born. His life is pretty empty. And sad. Garusov reminded me a lot of Liudmila Ulitskaya’s Искренне ваш Шурик (Sincerely Yours, Shurik), also about a youngish man who can’t quite seem to find his own life. Shurik was my favorite Ulitskaya novel until I read her Даниэль Штайн, переводчик (Daniel Stein, Translator) (previous post), another book with World War 2 themes.

Today I read Vladimir Sorokin’s “Tobacco Pouch” thanks to a recommendation from readers Languagehat and Alexander/Sashura; Sashura mentioned the story in a comment to this Languagehat post about Elif Batuman’s The Possessed. “The Tobacco Pouch” begins with a narrator, who loves the Russian forest, going to wait for sunrise in the woods. I’ve only read a bit of Sorokin – Лёд (Ice) (previous post) and a few stories, including “Чёрная лошадь с белым глазом” (“Black Horse with a White Eye”) (mentioned here) – but the idyllic, even kitschy, start of “Tobacco Pouch” made me wonder what sinister twist awaited in the woods.

I didn’t have to wait long: several pages in, a veteran with a chest full of medals appears. He’s out collecting plants and he carries a tobacco pouch given to him by a woman when he was a soldier. Then comes the twist: the sunrise lover asks the veteran to tell about the tobacco pouch, and the veteran’s speech eventually self-destructs (I borrowed that word from a small chunk of this interesting Russian essay about Sorokin) as he tells about his life after Victory Day in Berlin. “The Tobacco Pouch” reminded me a little of Gogol’s “Записки сумашедшего” (“Diary of a Madman”), where the narrator loses more and more of his mind as the story progresses.

One especially interesting aspect of the story: Sashura mentioned “Кисет” in a comment on an earlier Languagehat post, calling lily of the valley (ландыш), which the veteran gathers, a clue to the story’s meaning. Lily of the valley is the plant in the online version of the story but in my book, the veteran collects подснежники, snowdrops. The discrepancy got me Googling, and I found that both plants contain compounds used to improve memory: galantamine, in snowdrops, is used to treat Alzheimer’s disease, and lily of the valley, according to Wikipedia, contains of compounds for memory and the heart. [Edit: Both plants are also considered poisonous.] I’m glad Sashura mentioned the plants. Though I was suspicious enough to circle the word подснежники as I read, I didn’t link it to the linguistic breakdown and fragmented memories. “The Tobacco Pouch” didn’t become an instant favorite and I’m still mulling it over but it’s an interesting take on memory and, I think, the odd things that happen when we wander into literal, metaphorical, historical, and folkloric forests.

As for recommendations… Beyond the pieces I mentioned in my 2008 Victory Day post, I particularly recommend these books with World War 2-related themes:

• Liudmila Ulitskaya’s Daniel Stein (previous post)
• Vasillii Grossman’s Life and Fate (previous post)
• Irina Grekova’s Ship of Widows (previous post)
• Il’ia Boiashov’s The Tank Driver or “White Tiger” (previous post)

Books about the war on my “to read” shelf include:

• Leonid Girshovich’s «Вий,» вокальный цикл Шуберта на слова Гоголя (“Viy,” Schubert’s Songs to Gogol’s Lyrics)
• Emmanuil Kazakevich’s Звезда (The Star)

I’d love to hear recommendations for other war-related books or stories.

National Bestseller Finalists & A Nabokov-Related Translation Award

I always enjoy looking up books that are shortlisted for awards -- this year’s National Bestseller short list was good fun thanks to lots of variety... Here are the six finalists and their point totals for this round:

Roman Senchin’s Елтышевы (The Yeltyshevs), which was a 2009 Booker finalist, received 11 points. Senchin’s work, including The Yeltyshevs, is on Журнальный зал here.

Andrei Astvatsaturov’s Люди в голом (People in the Nude), received 7 points. People in the Nude was a 2009 NOSE award finalist. (earlier post with description) Previous writing from Astvatsaturov is on Журнальный зал here.

Vasilii Avchenko’s Правый руль (Wheel on the Right) collected 6 points. (previous post with brief description)

Pavel Krusanov’s Мертвый язык ((A/The?) Dead Language), which Openspace.ru says should have been called Мертвый критик (The Dead Critic), had 6 points. I gather from the review that the main character is an old guard St. Petersburg undergroundish guy dissatisfied with the world. Openspace makes it sound like Dead Language is Chinese water torture with words instead of water. Other work by Krusanov is on Журнальный зал here.

Oleg Lukoshin totaled 6 points for his “повесть-комикс” (story-comics) Капитализм (Capitalism), which appears to be composed of many short sketches written in short sentences. Taking a very quick look at this review I noticed that its writer sees Capitalism as drawing on Chekhov’s “Спать хочется” (“Sleepy”), among other works. The NatsBest site notes that Lukoshin’s book made the short list through popular voting on Live Journal; it was listed as the longest shot to win, with 1:12 odds.

Eduard Kochergin’s Крещенные крестами (Baptized with Crosses) received 5 points. The NatsBest site calls this book autobiographical; the book’s Ozon.ru listing says it relates Kochergin’s childhood experiences running away from a temporary home in Omsk for children of enemies of the people. Other works by Kochergin are on Журнальный зал here.

I’ve only read one of the books, The Yeltyshevs, which I thought was so good (previous post) that I am now (disclosure here!) contributing to a proposal for publishing it in translation. I keep meaning to read the one Kursanov book, Бом-бом (Bom-Bom), that’s on my shelf.

Russian language NatsBest commentary on the finalists is available here.

A note for Nabokovians: I learned from Three Percent that Ross Benjamin won the Wolff Translation Prize from the Goethe Institut for his translation of Michael Maar’s Speak, Nabokov. Here’s an excerpt on n+1.

The End of the World as We Know It?

Like apocalyptic fiction? Oh, do I have books for you… if, that is, novels about Mayan prophesies or post-nuclear-war America are your thing. I’m now realizing I’m much more into dystopias than apocalypse, but I read Sergei Lukyanenko’s Атомный сон (Atomic Dream) and Dmitrii Glukhovskii’s (Dmitry Glukhovsky) Сумерки (edit: literally Dusk or Twilight (oops!), though I’ve seen it called It’s Getting Darker) in preparation for the fantasy/science fiction theme planned for the Books from Russia events at the London Book Fair. Both authors were on the schedule, though Glukhovskii’s name disappeared before Icelandic volcanic ash closed European airspace.

Given the content of It’s Getting Darker – there are devastating natural disasters in various countries – I joked with a friend that Glukhovskii must have known something the rest of us didn’t. The first-person narrator of It’s Getting Darker, a Spanish-Russian translator, describes, sometimes in painfully microscopic detail, his experiences translating a Conquistador’s diary. Earthquakes, a jaguar attack in Moscow, and some other bloody deaths ensue.

I didn’t especially enjoy the first half of It’s Getting Darker: I often wanted out of the narrator’s self-involved head. I thought he was a pretentious nudnik; he makes too much, for example, out of things like my beloved salad Olivier. My utter indifference to Mayan prophesies didn’t warm my feelings for It’s Getting Darker, nor did all-of-a-sudden developments like knocks at the door or an important scrap of paper falling from a pocket. At times It’s Getting Darker felt like parody. Still, I plowed through the first half while walking on the treadmill and, curiously, found myself almost looking forward to reading more when the book’s pace picked up and the narrator got out of the house more.

I don’t agree with the marketing genius who decided to call It’s Getting Darker the first Russian intellectual bestseller. I have no argument with “bestseller,” though “first” feels problematic: I have to think at least one of Boris Akunin’s Fandorin books -- which are, IMHO, far brainier -- hit the bestseller list before It’s Getting Darker. “Intellectual” is an even bigger stretch: I thought It’s Getting Darker was simplistic and formulaic, with a conclusion based in truisms about life and immortality. Maybe a book is considered intellectual these days if its narrator is from the intelligentsia? It’s interesting that the blurbs on the back of my book make comparisons to a diverse bunch: Dan Brown, Nikolai Gogol, and Stephen King. I haven’t read a thing by Dan Brown but Glukhovskii’s references to Gogol in It’s Getting Darker sure don’t make him a new Gogol, and I think Stephen King’s early works (which are all I’ve read) are far more capable of making the logically impossible feel plausible. And interesting.

Lukyanenko’s Atomic Dream, a long story, is also an introspective first-person narrative – broadly speaking, it’s about survival, sacrifice, and being human – but it moves much faster. The narrator, known as Drago, describes his meanderings with a man named Mike and a dog named Prince, years after an atomic bomb attack. I knew there was trouble when a two-meter spider appeared on the first page. There’s also occasional telepathy and cannibalism.

Though Atomic Dream didn’t interest me very much – I just couldn’t identify with it – I give Lukyanenko a lot of credit for writing the story in his early twenties and receiving the 1993 “Start” award, for best debut science fiction book, for his Atomic Dream collection. He’s won numerous other awards and books in his Ночной дозор (Night Watch) series have been translated into English and adapted for film. I read about half of Night Watch a few years ago and thought it was okay; I may yet pick it back up. The "Watch" books have been popular both in Russian and in English translation.

Level for non-native readers of Russian: The language in both It’s Getting Darker and Atomic Dream isn’t especially difficult, about 2.5/5 for each.

Translation Watch: Glukhovskii’s Metro 2033 was released in English translation in March 2010 by British publisher Gollancz.

Photo of stone jaguar: Ben Earwicker, Garrison Photography, (bjearwicke, via sxc.hu.)

Metro 2033 on Amazon.com

Lukyanenko on Amazon.com

Long List for the 2010 Big Book Award

I’m a few days late writing about the long list for this year’s Big Book award: the 49 nominees, in book, journal, or manuscript form, were announced on the 15^th, the day I was supposed to fly to London for the London Book Fair. Despite the distraction and my disappointment, I’m feeling very fortunate I’m at home rather than stranded in a place far, far way. I have a reservation for tomorrow, but it’s very unlikely to fly, so I’m already thinking about fun literature-related projects for the next week or so… the interview with translator Marian Schwartz will go up soon, as will a post about two science fiction/fantasy pieces.

So, on to the list! Some nominees repeat from the National Bestseller long list: Vasilii Avchenko’s Правый руль (Wheel on the Right), Mikhail Gigolashvili’s Чертово колесо (The Devil’s Wheel) (5 глав из романа), and Viktor Pelevin’s t, which I give points because I don’t have to attempt to translate the title without context. Roman Senchin’s Елтышевы (The Yeltyshevs), a Booker finalist, is also on the list (previous post).

Books from writers I’ve read in the past include Margarita Khemlin’s Клоцвог (Klotsvog), Dina Rubina’s Белая голубка Кордовы (The White Dove of Cordova), and German Sadulaev’s Шалинский рейд (The Raid on Shali) (начало окончание), which is about Chechnia. Seeing Vladimir Voinovich’s Автопортрет. Роман моей жизни (A Self-Portrait. A Novel of My Life) on the list felt like a reminder about an old friend, and Счастье возможно: Роман нашего времени (Happiness Is Possible: A Novel of Our Time), by Oleg Zaionchkovskii, nudged me that several people have recommended the author (фрагменты романа).

Then there are Bakhyt Kenzheev’s Обрезание пасынков (Pruning the Shoots), which two friends liked quite a lot, Vladimir Kozlov’s СССР. Дневник пацана с окраины (edit: translator Andrea Gregovich is calling this one CCCP, The Diary of a Kid on the Outskirts), and Zakhar Prilepin’s nonfiction book about Leonid Leonov.

The list of manuscripts feels particularly mysterious thanks to the use of numbers instead of author names plus titles like Христос был женщиной (Christ Was a Woman) (manuscript no. 281, evidently from Olga Novikova), ЛЕВ ТОЛСТОЙ: бегство из рая (LEV TOLSTOY: Escape From Heaven) (manuscript no. 306, apparently from Pavel Basinskii), and Когда был Ленин мумией (When Lenin Was a Mummy) (manuscript no. 51, seemingly excerpted in the magazine Патрон).