My reading of 2015 Big Book Award finalists started off on a
high note, with Guzel Yakhina’s
Зулейха
открывает глаза (
Zuleikha Opens Her
Eyes), a debut novel that begins in 1930 in a Tatar village, from which a
kulak woman—Zuleikha, she of the title—is quickly sent into exile after her
husband is killed during
dekulakization.
Incongruous though it may sound, Zuleikha is an enjoyable and smooth novel, unpretentious mainstream
historical fiction that I realized, upon reflection, covers more cultural,
ethnic, religious, and sociopolitical issues than I’d noticed (consciously, anyway) during my reading. As I write, I realize, too, that this is probably the most crucial
element of good mainstream fiction for me: it should be so absorbing that I
want to keep turning pages, no matter what crazy plot the author is putting
forth, but I should want to turn the pages back when I finish. Put another way,
I think “mainstream fiction,” can occupy most any genre, so what makes me want
to call a book “good” is its ability to hold my attention both as I read and after
I’ve read, compelling me to return to my notes and various passages in the book
to consider depths I didn’t want to dwell on too much because I was enjoying
the author’s storytelling. More on Yakhina’s storytelling below…
Though Zuleikha lives in relative material comfort, in the
women’s half of a large house, she’d been married off early (and can’t
calculate whether she’s been with Murtaza for half her thirty years or not) and
her mother-in-law, who’s deaf and blind, demands chamber pot emptying services
first thing every the morning. Zuleikha has lots of other chores, like clearing
snow, tending animals, and serving Murtaza, plus she takes lots of abuse from
her mother-in-law for her children’s deaths early in their lives.
Zuleikha’s own life—after seeing her husband killed, after a
horrendous train trip to a spot on the Angara River where her group of exiles
will settle, and after a difficult first winter that kills many—settles into a new
routine with characters nothing like her neighbors in Yulbash. The characters
are many but distinct, and they include a rather dotty doctor, an artist who
paints on the sly, and urbane city dwellers who remember past European travels,
as well as Ignatov, Zuleikha’s husband’s killer. Ignatov is persuaded to remain
in the settlement, as its commandant, and he stays because of his own political
issues back in Kazan. Most important, there is Zuleikha’s son Yuzuf, born in
the settlement, who develops an interest for art and learns to paint.
Yakhina’s writing is simple, albeit sprinkled with Tatar
words (there’s a glossary), and I particularly like the grace with which she
handles her setting in the settlement on the Angara. One of the excerpts from
the book that I’m translating for Elkost describes one of Zuleikha’s workdays, beginning
with an early wakeup and showing Zuleikha making the rounds of her hunting
grounds. I write “hunting grounds” in the literal sense: during a chance
encounter with Ignatov and a bear, Zuleikha learns she’s a crack shot, so she’s
entrusted with a rifle to hunt for food for the settlement’s kitchen. On the
day in the passage, she’s bringing home a hare and some fowl, and is met by Yuzuf
near the settlement: he asks her to tell his favorite story, about a mountain-dwelling
mystical bird, known in Tatar as Semrug and in Wikipedia as
Simurgh. (Edit: And here, thanks to my colleague Liza Prudovskaya, is a
Wikipedia version of the story Zuleikha tells Yuzuf.) This day-in-the-life passage
does everything, with lovely descriptions of nature that integrate Zuleikha
into her surroundings without getting flowery (why can’t more writers do this!?), sweet banter between Zuleikha
and Yuzuf, and, yes, oral storytelling that fits the scene plus the novel’s main
story, too, because it looks at finding one’s strengths.
I’m not quite sure how Yakhina makes that feel fresh—she herself
has said the novel
is about how Zuleikha wakes up, opens her eyes to the world, and finds happiness,
albeit bitter happiness—but I wonder if details from handed-down family stories
about her grandmother’s experiences during dekulakization might be one reason. Another
is, again, Yakhina’s ability to use a simple structure and language to tell her
story, all as she plants details that will have meaning later in the book. (Side
note: one of the most fun aspects of translating after reading an entire book
is seeing storytelling motifs early on, the second time around.)
Disclaimers: The
usual plus my work on excerpts from
Zuleikha.
Thank you, too, to Elkost for sending me an advance electronic edition of
Zuleikha after telling me about the book!
Up Next: More books
from the Big Book finalist list, including Boris Yekimov’s
Autumn in Zadon’e, which I finished but didn’t like very much (at
all), and Anna Matveeva’s story collection
Девять
девяностых (
Nine from the Nineties),
which was also shortlisted for
this
year’s NatsBest, and gets off to a great start.