Jennifer DuBois (1) (1983–)

I am drawn to novels about Russia. Why not. For decades it was our partner in the dance of potential mutual and world destruction. It has all the political intrigue you could want. It's awesomely vast. It's European, but it's European in a way quite different from the the familiar comfort of western Europe. The many hardships that drive down life expectancy there can make for potentially good stories, a poor trade off for Russians surely but useful for novelists.

So I was intrigued by the plot of this book. In modern Russia, a world chess champion braves the threat of death to lead the futile task of challenging the autocratic and corrupt rule of Vladimir Putin. In America, a young college professor with a death sentence of her own in the form of a hereditary genetic disease finds a letter her father wrote to this Russian decades ago. Her father, about to lose himself to this genetic disease, wrote to ask how one should carry on in the face of certain oncoming defeat. He imagined the Russian might have an answer. No answer came, and now the young American, casting about for a way to react herself, decides to move to Russia, find this man, and get that answer.

The setup is just the smallest bit awkward. Chapters alternate between the Aleksandr of the past almost three decades as he opposes and finally conforms (in a troublesome sort of way) to the Soviet regime, involved in both dissident politics and chess, and Irina in present day America and Russia. Both characters are richly drawn and their psychology and motives well established. The payoff comes about arguably somewhat improbably, with Aleksandr, now opposing the Putin regime, impulsively hiring Irina to be one of his three closest assistants, but if that's accepted then their relationship develops realistically and finally touchingly, nicely avoiding anything maudlin in its hardheadedness.

The political aspect of the novel is interesting, with a conspiracy theory about how Putin rose to power coming to the fore near the end of the book. As someone who values historical accuracy in works of fiction, I'm a bit troubled by the historicity of this, but it makes for a powerful plot thread so I'm going to take it with a grain of salt and enjoy the story. The personal aspect of the novel is astonishingly well done for a first time novelist, and very thoughtful and intelligent. It is full of well observed truths, as when Irina talks about the reactions she gets when she tells people of her fatal diagnosis:

"I will admit it sometimes felt strange to me to make the confession to someone and later catch them laughing, or flirting, or eating a sandwich, instead of tearing at the injustice of it all or sitting quietly at the center of a grand and monstrous grief. The disaster of my life might be only the worst thing another person heard that afternoon; they might have forgotten by dinnertime; they might have been more heartbroken by watching certain movies."

Quite enjoyable novel, in a bleak Russian sort of way.… (mer)

I disliked everything about this: The details stolen from the Amanda Knox case, the overwrought language, the ceaseless references to the long dead sister, the absurd character Sebastian, the strange troubled marriages of the host family and the prosecutor. All of it.

I admit to skimming past the 50% mark hoping, at least, that the author would have chosen to tell us finally, if Lily was guilty or not but it was left ambiguous.

Very glad that that was borrowed and not purchased.

… (mer)