July-Sept 2018: Between Giants - Central Asian border regions
SnakReading Globally
Bliv bruger af LibraryThing, hvis du vil skrive et indlæg
1spiphany
I’ll try to keep this introduction relatively short since I’m not an expert on this part of the world. But I do want to say a few words about how I conceive of this theme read and what I see as unifying this hodgepodge of countries scattered across the breadth of Asia.
I’ve divided the countries we’re focusing on this quarter into four regions: the Caucasus, Central Asia, Afghanistan, and Mongolia. What they all have in common is the fact that across history they have tended to be crossroads, meeting places for a wide variety of cultures and often the site of territorial expansion and conflict between the various empires of Eurasia, but have not themselves generally been the seat of a major world player. Much of Inner Asia is arid (desert and steppe) and not well-suited to agriculture. Consequently, these regions were long inhabited by nomadic peoples -- and in the 13th and 14th centuries the steppe peoples briefly assumed a central place on the world stage with the Mongol empire of Genghis Khan, which unified much of Inner Asia and had a profound impact on both Europe and China.
During the age of exploration many of these countries lay along trade routes (i.e., the Silk Road) linking China, the Indian subcontinent, and Europe. Later they became spaces of internal colonization by the expanding Russian Empire/USSR. In the twentieth century, these regions were at the peripheries of the two major communist nations: the USSR and China. They are also crossroads between major religious regions: Christian Europe, the Muslim world, and Buddhist China.
As highly multi-ethnic regions, in many cases they continue to be the site of conflicts that have been made worse as a result of having been carved up rather arbitrarily into political units after the break-up of the Soviet Union.
A few words about the Soviet context: while it’s tempting to think of the USSR as “Russia”, it was from the beginning a multi-national and multi-ethnic state (as the Russian Federation still is today). The Soviet government’s attitude towards these non-Russian nationalities varied. While it officially promoted and supported national languages and cultures and the production of literature in these languages -- even developing alphabets for languages that had previously had an oral culture -- there was also a push for developing a Soviet identity with a common language, i.e. Russian. The early practice of “korenizatsiya” was later replaced by a greater emphasis on Russification. As a consequence, a number of the writers that appear on the lists here wrote in Russian rather than their native language.
To get us started, I've created lists for each of the sub-regions:
The Caucasus
Central Asia
Afghanistan
Mongolia
Along with fiction I've also included some travel and journalistic literature where it seemed relevant, although I've tried to avoid works that seemed to have a superficial or exoticizing approach. I've also omitted adventure novels about Marco Polo and Genghis Khan for this reason, unless the author clearly has fairly extensive background on the region. Because in many cases there isn't much fiction available in English translaiton, I have included some titles in other European languages. You're welcome to add to the lists in case there's anything I missed, or use them to note your own reading plans.
I’ve divided the countries we’re focusing on this quarter into four regions: the Caucasus, Central Asia, Afghanistan, and Mongolia. What they all have in common is the fact that across history they have tended to be crossroads, meeting places for a wide variety of cultures and often the site of territorial expansion and conflict between the various empires of Eurasia, but have not themselves generally been the seat of a major world player. Much of Inner Asia is arid (desert and steppe) and not well-suited to agriculture. Consequently, these regions were long inhabited by nomadic peoples -- and in the 13th and 14th centuries the steppe peoples briefly assumed a central place on the world stage with the Mongol empire of Genghis Khan, which unified much of Inner Asia and had a profound impact on both Europe and China.
During the age of exploration many of these countries lay along trade routes (i.e., the Silk Road) linking China, the Indian subcontinent, and Europe. Later they became spaces of internal colonization by the expanding Russian Empire/USSR. In the twentieth century, these regions were at the peripheries of the two major communist nations: the USSR and China. They are also crossroads between major religious regions: Christian Europe, the Muslim world, and Buddhist China.
As highly multi-ethnic regions, in many cases they continue to be the site of conflicts that have been made worse as a result of having been carved up rather arbitrarily into political units after the break-up of the Soviet Union.
A few words about the Soviet context: while it’s tempting to think of the USSR as “Russia”, it was from the beginning a multi-national and multi-ethnic state (as the Russian Federation still is today). The Soviet government’s attitude towards these non-Russian nationalities varied. While it officially promoted and supported national languages and cultures and the production of literature in these languages -- even developing alphabets for languages that had previously had an oral culture -- there was also a push for developing a Soviet identity with a common language, i.e. Russian. The early practice of “korenizatsiya” was later replaced by a greater emphasis on Russification. As a consequence, a number of the writers that appear on the lists here wrote in Russian rather than their native language.
To get us started, I've created lists for each of the sub-regions:
The Caucasus
Central Asia
Afghanistan
Mongolia
Along with fiction I've also included some travel and journalistic literature where it seemed relevant, although I've tried to avoid works that seemed to have a superficial or exoticizing approach. I've also omitted adventure novels about Marco Polo and Genghis Khan for this reason, unless the author clearly has fairly extensive background on the region. Because in many cases there isn't much fiction available in English translaiton, I have included some titles in other European languages. You're welcome to add to the lists in case there's anything I missed, or use them to note your own reading plans.
2spiphany
The Caucasus forms a border between Europe (Russia) and the Middle East (Turkey/Iran); the region is bounded by the Caspian Sea in the east and the Black Sea in the west. It is incredibly diverse, being home to over fifty ethnic groups and a wide variety of Indo-European, Turkic, and Caucasian languages. The main religions are Sunni Islam, Eastern Orthodox Christian, and Armenian Christian. Today, the southern parts of the Caucasus are independent countries (Georgia, Azerbaijan, Armenia), while parts of the northern Caucasus are still federal subjects of Russia (Dagestan, Chechnya, etc.).
In antiquity the Caucasus was at the eastern edge of the known world; in Greek mythology Prometheus is said to have been chained to a mountain here, suffering his punishment for having stolen fire from the gods. The hero Jason and his Argonauts traveled here to Colchis on their quest for the legendary Golden Fleece, where he met Medea and started the disastrous chain of events that followed.
In the twentieth century, the Caucasus is most likely to be known to Western readers only as a consequence of negative headlines from a number of bloody conflicts, e.g. the Armenian genocide by the Ottoman Empire in WWI, or the Chechen Wars in the 1990s. Several of the borders are still contested, and there are several de facto states that are not universally recognized (e.g. Abkhazia, South Ossetia).
For this reason, Armenian writers are largely represented in the form of second-hand accounts, often by children or grandchildren of those killed during the genocide. Much of the literature I was able to find on Chechnya also takes the form of accounts by those who observed or fought in the conflict there.
The country in this region with the greatest literary presence today -- or at least the one that is best-represented in translation into European languages -- is Georgia. The Dalkey Archive Press has made a number of titles available in English. For even more titles, the Georgian government has a database of titles (searchable by language).
Serendipitously for us, Georgia will also be the guest country at this year's Frankfurt Book Fair in October. While most of the new translations that have been published in the run-up to the book fair are in German, it also should help to increase the prominence of Georgian literature for English-speaking readers as well. The website (in English) includes some interesting articles about Georgia and Georgian literature.
In antiquity the Caucasus was at the eastern edge of the known world; in Greek mythology Prometheus is said to have been chained to a mountain here, suffering his punishment for having stolen fire from the gods. The hero Jason and his Argonauts traveled here to Colchis on their quest for the legendary Golden Fleece, where he met Medea and started the disastrous chain of events that followed.
In the twentieth century, the Caucasus is most likely to be known to Western readers only as a consequence of negative headlines from a number of bloody conflicts, e.g. the Armenian genocide by the Ottoman Empire in WWI, or the Chechen Wars in the 1990s. Several of the borders are still contested, and there are several de facto states that are not universally recognized (e.g. Abkhazia, South Ossetia).
For this reason, Armenian writers are largely represented in the form of second-hand accounts, often by children or grandchildren of those killed during the genocide. Much of the literature I was able to find on Chechnya also takes the form of accounts by those who observed or fought in the conflict there.
The country in this region with the greatest literary presence today -- or at least the one that is best-represented in translation into European languages -- is Georgia. The Dalkey Archive Press has made a number of titles available in English. For even more titles, the Georgian government has a database of titles (searchable by language).
Serendipitously for us, Georgia will also be the guest country at this year's Frankfurt Book Fair in October. While most of the new translations that have been published in the run-up to the book fair are in German, it also should help to increase the prominence of Georgian literature for English-speaking readers as well. The website (in English) includes some interesting articles about Georgia and Georgian literature.
3spiphany
The five countries that make up Central Asia -- Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan -- are former Soviet republics with mainly Turkic-speaking Muslim populations. The landscape is a mixture of steppe, mountain, and desert.
Very few authors from this region have been translated into English, but there are a few that stand out.
One is Chingiz Aitmatov, who is a major figure in Kyrgyz literature. His early works were written in Kyrgyz but he later wrote mostly in Russian. Jamila is probably his best known work, but he was highly prolific. Readers of other European languages (German, French) are likely to find a wider variety of his work available in translation.
Hamid Ismailov is an Uzbek writer who was forced to emigrate to the UK, which likely contributed to the availability of his works in English (his writing is banned in his native country).
Russian writers who ran afoul of the state sometimes found themselves banned to far corners of the territory, including, on occasion, Central Asia. Others travelled there as part of military service or development projects. Notable here are Yury Dombrovsky (Keeper of Antiquities) and Andrei Platonov (Soul).
Very few authors from this region have been translated into English, but there are a few that stand out.
One is Chingiz Aitmatov, who is a major figure in Kyrgyz literature. His early works were written in Kyrgyz but he later wrote mostly in Russian. Jamila is probably his best known work, but he was highly prolific. Readers of other European languages (German, French) are likely to find a wider variety of his work available in translation.
Hamid Ismailov is an Uzbek writer who was forced to emigrate to the UK, which likely contributed to the availability of his works in English (his writing is banned in his native country).
Russian writers who ran afoul of the state sometimes found themselves banned to far corners of the territory, including, on occasion, Central Asia. Others travelled there as part of military service or development projects. Notable here are Yury Dombrovsky (Keeper of Antiquities) and Andrei Platonov (Soul).
4spiphany
I have separated Afghanistan from Central Asia because its history has made it fairly distinct from its neighbors to the north. It has a much longer history of urban settlements due to its proximity to the civilizations of the Indus Valley; it was briefly occupied by Alexander the Great and the region may have been the birthplace of Zoroastrianism. In the late nineteenth century the area served as a buffer zone between the Russian Empire and British India (see: Great Game, Anglo-Afghan Wars). In the 1980s the Soviet-Afghan War took place between the Soviet Union and Afghan insurgents (who were supported by Pakistan and the United States). By the late 1990s the Taliban had taken over most of the country, leading to the United States’ war in Afghanistan.
In the English-speaking world, the most familiar writer on Afghanistan is likely to be Khaled Hosseini, who left Afghanistan as a child and settled in the United States. It is a telling reflection of the country's political situation that this seems to be typical: much Afghan literature available to us was written in exile or by writers who aren't natives of the country. The links to the Indian subcontinent are also clear, with a number of Pakistani and Indian novels that tackle the topic of Afghanistan.
In the English-speaking world, the most familiar writer on Afghanistan is likely to be Khaled Hosseini, who left Afghanistan as a child and settled in the United States. It is a telling reflection of the country's political situation that this seems to be typical: much Afghan literature available to us was written in exile or by writers who aren't natives of the country. The links to the Indian subcontinent are also clear, with a number of Pakistani and Indian novels that tackle the topic of Afghanistan.
5spiphany
Mongolia is also sometimes treated as part of Central Asia and it shares a number of the same characteristics: its location on the Silk Road, an arid climate and a traditionally nomadic culture. However, it is separated from the rest of Central Asia by the Altai Mountains; where the Muslim world has had a major cultural influence in Central Asia, in Mongolia Chinese culture has played a larger role. Buddhism has largely but not entirely replaced the traditional shamanism. Mongolia has also followed a rather different historical trajectory than its western neighbors, starting with the rise of the Mongol Empire under Ghengis Khan. In the twentieth century, Russia installed a communist government in Mongolia, although it was never integrated into the USSR. China also laid claim to Mongolia and was reluctant to acknowledge it as an independent state. Inner Mongolia is an autonomous region in China today.
Mongolian writers are also poorly represented in English translation. I want to mention Galsan Tschinag here: the son of a Tuvan tribal leader, he attended university in East Germany before returning to his homeland, where he became a shaman. He writes in German and divides his time between Germany and Ulan-Bator. His autobiography starting with The Blue Sky) has been translated into English.
We also have a number of accounts of Mongolia from a Chinese perspective, most prominently the autobiographical novel Wolf Totem by Jiang Rong. Like many young Chinese during the Cultural Revolution, he spent time working in Inner Mongolia to shape the land according to the government's ideas of productivity. "Wolf Totem" is in part a story of how the Chinese fundamentally misunderstood the land and people, with catastrophic consequences for the grassland environment.
Mongolian writers are also poorly represented in English translation. I want to mention Galsan Tschinag here: the son of a Tuvan tribal leader, he attended university in East Germany before returning to his homeland, where he became a shaman. He writes in German and divides his time between Germany and Ulan-Bator. His autobiography starting with The Blue Sky) has been translated into English.
We also have a number of accounts of Mongolia from a Chinese perspective, most prominently the autobiographical novel Wolf Totem by Jiang Rong. Like many young Chinese during the Cultural Revolution, he spent time working in Inner Mongolia to shape the land according to the government's ideas of productivity. "Wolf Totem" is in part a story of how the Chinese fundamentally misunderstood the land and people, with catastrophic consequences for the grassland environment.
6spiphany
Finally, I want to add a few remarks on some common themes and topics that I hope may be useful for orientation while reading. I've formulated them as questions, but you should not feel obliged to address them specifically in our discussions.
- What role do ceremonies such as weddings, festivals, welcoming of guests, eating and drinking play in everyday life? Traditionally many of the societies in this region are famous for their hospitality, which may involve elaborate rituals (slaughtering animals, preparing a feast, consumption of tea or other beverages) or create obligations between host and guest.
- How does the author negotiate questions of (national and/or ethnic) identity? Is ethnicity a source of conflict between different groups who inhabit the same region? How much is identity connected with religion? Do they have multiple allegiances or identities and is this felt to be positive or a source of inner distress? What is the relationship between "insiders" and "outsiders"?
- Related to this, how does the author deal with the question of colonization or foreign rule? All of the regions covered this quarter were integrated into the territory of one country or another -- typically communist -- or were a battleground for struggles between two major world players. Do the characters/author identify with the culture of the rulers, or with their local culture? Does the foreign power attempt to impose changes on the society they are in charge of, and how is this received by the locals?
- How do the characters move through their world? This may take the form of a traditionally nomadic or pastoral lifestyle in which the movements of the herds shape everyday life and the passage of the seasons. Alternatively, migration is and has been a significant factor in many of the countries in this region. This migration may be voluntary (i.e., labour migration in search of opportunities in cities, or to isolated regions as part of socialist development projects; or motivated by a desire to travel and explore) or involuntary (banishment and exile, fleeing from war or persecution).
- To what extent is the society shaped by conflict? As already noted above, war, genocide, and ethnic conflict are recurring problems in several of these countries. However, the harsh climate of the steppes and desert also means that the struggle against nature is also a common concern. Finally, how does a changing society (imperial colonization, urbanization, globalization) create conflict between old and new ways of life or between generations?
- What narrative traditions does the author draw on? The novel -- a largely European invention -- is not a native literary form in most of the cultures we are looking at. Rather, they have their own, much longer tradition of other narrative forms which may be based around poetry, music and/or oral storytelling. How does the author adopt European novelistic conventions or draw on oral traditions? It is also worth noting that in many cases authors also have to navigate problems of censorship and ideological expectations that dictate what and how they can write (e.g., typical plot patterns of socialist realism).
- What role do ceremonies such as weddings, festivals, welcoming of guests, eating and drinking play in everyday life? Traditionally many of the societies in this region are famous for their hospitality, which may involve elaborate rituals (slaughtering animals, preparing a feast, consumption of tea or other beverages) or create obligations between host and guest.
- How does the author negotiate questions of (national and/or ethnic) identity? Is ethnicity a source of conflict between different groups who inhabit the same region? How much is identity connected with religion? Do they have multiple allegiances or identities and is this felt to be positive or a source of inner distress? What is the relationship between "insiders" and "outsiders"?
- Related to this, how does the author deal with the question of colonization or foreign rule? All of the regions covered this quarter were integrated into the territory of one country or another -- typically communist -- or were a battleground for struggles between two major world players. Do the characters/author identify with the culture of the rulers, or with their local culture? Does the foreign power attempt to impose changes on the society they are in charge of, and how is this received by the locals?
- How do the characters move through their world? This may take the form of a traditionally nomadic or pastoral lifestyle in which the movements of the herds shape everyday life and the passage of the seasons. Alternatively, migration is and has been a significant factor in many of the countries in this region. This migration may be voluntary (i.e., labour migration in search of opportunities in cities, or to isolated regions as part of socialist development projects; or motivated by a desire to travel and explore) or involuntary (banishment and exile, fleeing from war or persecution).
- To what extent is the society shaped by conflict? As already noted above, war, genocide, and ethnic conflict are recurring problems in several of these countries. However, the harsh climate of the steppes and desert also means that the struggle against nature is also a common concern. Finally, how does a changing society (imperial colonization, urbanization, globalization) create conflict between old and new ways of life or between generations?
- What narrative traditions does the author draw on? The novel -- a largely European invention -- is not a native literary form in most of the cultures we are looking at. Rather, they have their own, much longer tradition of other narrative forms which may be based around poetry, music and/or oral storytelling. How does the author adopt European novelistic conventions or draw on oral traditions? It is also worth noting that in many cases authors also have to navigate problems of censorship and ideological expectations that dictate what and how they can write (e.g., typical plot patterns of socialist realism).
7Dilara86
Thank you for your hard work! I'm very much looking forward to this quarter!
(By the way, the link to the Afghanistan list takes us to https://www.librarything.de rather than .com)
(By the way, the link to the Afghanistan list takes us to https://www.librarything.de rather than .com)
9southernbooklady
I thought for sure I would have been more familiar with at least the Afghanistan writers, but no -- I've only read a couple. There goes my book budget for the next couple months.
10Tess_W
I have read The Pearl that Broke Its Shell by Nadia Hashimi and highly recommend it; as well as The Kite Runner. I currently do not have anything on my shelf that fits this locale so it will be fun shopping from the list at the library for possible selection(s).
11SassyLassy
It's good to see the travel and journalistic writing in the lists, as well as the fiction. There's some really great reading here. I've enjoyed the books from them which I've already read, and know I will be reading more.
12thorold
This is another theme that I come to with shamefully little prior knowledge - like the Japan/Korea one. I think the only really relevant book I've read in recent years is Salam, Dalgat! by Alisa Arkadievna Ganieva (Dagestan), which I read for the Russia theme read - and which I found very interesting.
I've been meaning to read Werfel's Die vierzig Tage des Musa Dagh for ages - although it's a secondhand account, maybe I will count it for this theme...
I've been meaning to read Werfel's Die vierzig Tage des Musa Dagh for ages - although it's a secondhand account, maybe I will count it for this theme...
13cindydavid4
I love your summaries of each region, bravo! Know next to nothinng about Central Asia or Mongolia (except for Gengis khan and Marco Polo). Re Afghanistn, I have read Kite RUnner and A Thousand Splendid Suns and have enjoyed many travel narratives about the area, esp An Unexpected Light.
A book I read about Caucasus Kindness of Enemies highly recommended About a professor who is researching a famous resistance fighter against the Russians, and discovers the man is the ancestor of one of her students.
A book I read about Caucasus Kindness of Enemies highly recommended About a professor who is researching a famous resistance fighter against the Russians, and discovers the man is the ancestor of one of her students.
14cindydavid4
constellation of vital phenomena about the ongoing war in Checnya. Really heartbreaking novel of the region.
15southernbooklady
I have my first two books for this quarter: Journey to Armenia by Osip Mandelstam and Skylark Farm by Antonia Arslan. Now I just have to psyche myself up to read about genocide.
16EllaTim
Hi, I'm new to this group, haven't read a lot but looking to expand my horizon.
>1 spiphany: I like this theme a lot, thank you for setting it all up!
Had a look at the list for the Caucasus, there are so many interesting books there, that I probably will stick with just that.
>15 southernbooklady: I will be looking for most of my books in the library, and found that they don't have Skylark Farm, but they do have the Italian movie "La masseria della allodole", based on the book, by the Taviani Brothers. Now they stand for quality, so I think my first read for this group is going to be a DVD:-;
>1 spiphany: I like this theme a lot, thank you for setting it all up!
Had a look at the list for the Caucasus, there are so many interesting books there, that I probably will stick with just that.
>15 southernbooklady: I will be looking for most of my books in the library, and found that they don't have Skylark Farm, but they do have the Italian movie "La masseria della allodole", based on the book, by the Taviani Brothers. Now they stand for quality, so I think my first read for this group is going to be a DVD:-;
17spiphany
>9 southernbooklady: Enabling book-buying seems to be a central function of this group. If it's any consolation, my "to read" list also grew significantly in the course of preparing for this quarter.
>12 thorold: As far as I know we don't police anyone's reading in terms of whether it is "authentic enough" to count for the theme read, so I should think Werfel is fine. And unfortunately, in the case of Armenia second-hand accounts are likely to be the best we can do.
>16 EllaTim: Welcome!
----
I came into this theme read with relatively little prior knowledge as well, so I'm sure there are a lot of authors I missed. (I based my lists in a large part on books catalogued on LT which included relevant tags.) So I'm looking forward to expanding my knowledge also.
In case anyone is not yet familiar with it, I want to recommend the Words without Borders website, which publishes short fiction and novel excerpts, poetry, and essays in translation, with a particular interest in less represented countries and languages. They've had several theme issues which are relevant for us this quarter and are a good way to get a taste of authors who might otherwise be unavailable to English readers:
Writing from Afghanistan
Writing by Kazakh Women
New Armenian Writing by Women
Writing from the Silk Road
>12 thorold: As far as I know we don't police anyone's reading in terms of whether it is "authentic enough" to count for the theme read, so I should think Werfel is fine. And unfortunately, in the case of Armenia second-hand accounts are likely to be the best we can do.
>16 EllaTim: Welcome!
----
I came into this theme read with relatively little prior knowledge as well, so I'm sure there are a lot of authors I missed. (I based my lists in a large part on books catalogued on LT which included relevant tags.) So I'm looking forward to expanding my knowledge also.
In case anyone is not yet familiar with it, I want to recommend the Words without Borders website, which publishes short fiction and novel excerpts, poetry, and essays in translation, with a particular interest in less represented countries and languages. They've had several theme issues which are relevant for us this quarter and are a good way to get a taste of authors who might otherwise be unavailable to English readers:
Writing from Afghanistan
Writing by Kazakh Women
New Armenian Writing by Women
Writing from the Silk Road
18southernbooklady
Another good site -- because it's one guy's labor of love, I think, -- is The Modern Novel:
https://www.themodernnovel.org/asia/central-asia/
https://www.themodernnovel.org/asia/central-asia/
19Dilara86
>17 spiphany: and >18 southernbooklady: thank you for those links. They're very interesting, but also so frustrating, when you find something you'd like to read and realise it hasn't been translated yet! I'm optimistic though. Words without Borders is a great way to showcase writers. Hopefully, publishers are watching, and will pick up their novels.
I've nearly finished Atlas géopolitique du Caucase : Russie, Géorgie, Arménie, Azerbaïdjan : un avenir commun possible ? (A geopolitical atlas of the Caucasus: Russia, Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan : Is a common future possible?), which I borrowed from the library. I'm very happy with it. I stumbled upon it when looking for suitable novels on my library's website. I hadn't thought of reading non-fiction, but I'm glad I found this book. It's a short, synthetic overview of the Caucasus's history, geography and political situation. Perfect for making sure I know enough about each country to get more out of whatever local fiction I'll be reading next. I can now tell Abkhazia from Karabakh, or Daghestan from Chechnya, and I have a much better grasp on what the climates, cultures, religions and landcapes are like in the region.
Also, I now understand how my daughter's German penpal was of Georgian and Greek origin: there were Greek settlements in Georgia, and therefore Greek ethnic Georgians are a recognised minority. The intermingling of different ethnicities and cultures in the region is mindboggling!
I've nearly finished Atlas géopolitique du Caucase : Russie, Géorgie, Arménie, Azerbaïdjan : un avenir commun possible ? (A geopolitical atlas of the Caucasus: Russia, Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan : Is a common future possible?), which I borrowed from the library. I'm very happy with it. I stumbled upon it when looking for suitable novels on my library's website. I hadn't thought of reading non-fiction, but I'm glad I found this book. It's a short, synthetic overview of the Caucasus's history, geography and political situation. Perfect for making sure I know enough about each country to get more out of whatever local fiction I'll be reading next. I can now tell Abkhazia from Karabakh, or Daghestan from Chechnya, and I have a much better grasp on what the climates, cultures, religions and landcapes are like in the region.
Also, I now understand how my daughter's German penpal was of Georgian and Greek origin: there were Greek settlements in Georgia, and therefore Greek ethnic Georgians are a recognised minority. The intermingling of different ethnicities and cultures in the region is mindboggling!
20Dilara86
Le livre de ma grand-mère : Suivi de Les fontaines de Havav (My Grandmother: A Memoir followed by The fountains of Havav) by Fethiye Çetin, translated by Marguerite Demird
Writer’s gender: Female
Writer’s nationality: Turkish
Original language: Turkish
Translated into: French (also available in English)
Location: Havav, Maden and Çermik, Anatolia, Turkey
This book could just about qualify for this theme. I found it on the Armenia shelf at my local library. However, it doesn’t take place on the territory of present-day Armenia, but in Anatolia (Turkey), in what some pro-Armenia websites call Western Armenia.
Fethiye Çetin is a Turkish lawyer and human rights activist of Armenian descent. She only discovered her roots as an adult, when her grandmother revealed to her that she was born under a different name, in an Armenian family, and had been “hiding”* her origins for most of her life. This book is the story of Fethiye Çetin’s grandmother’s life. She was a young girl at the time of the Armenian genocide. The men of her village were killed; the women and children were driven out in a forced march where many people died. Her grandmother however, was picked out by a local Turkish policeman who forcibly separated her from her mother, and took her home with the intention of raising her as his daughter. I use the word “intention” because although he was kind to her, his wife was not, and did not accept her as one of the family. To her, she was a servant. She, along with many other children cynically called “les restes de l’épée” (I don’t know how that was translated into English, “the remains of the sword”, maybe?), were given new, Muslim, names and were integrated into Turkish society, learning a new language, alphabet, religion and culture. In a final, cruel twist of fate, although the grandmother’s parents survived the genocide (her father was living and working in the US at the time, her mother managed to safely reach Syria, then join him in the US), she never saw them again.
The last few pages describe the restoration of the two fountains in Fethiye Çetin’s grandmother’s native village, Havav. You can have a look at them here: https://westernarmenia.weebly.com/havav-fountains.html
* I put “hiding” in inverted commas because clearly, this was an open secret to the older generations: neighbours knew, many of them were in similar situations, and the word “Convert” on her identification papers were a clear sign to the authorities that she had Armenian origins and could be discriminated against.
Writer’s gender: Female
Writer’s nationality: Turkish
Original language: Turkish
Translated into: French (also available in English)
Location: Havav, Maden and Çermik, Anatolia, Turkey
This book could just about qualify for this theme. I found it on the Armenia shelf at my local library. However, it doesn’t take place on the territory of present-day Armenia, but in Anatolia (Turkey), in what some pro-Armenia websites call Western Armenia.
Fethiye Çetin is a Turkish lawyer and human rights activist of Armenian descent. She only discovered her roots as an adult, when her grandmother revealed to her that she was born under a different name, in an Armenian family, and had been “hiding”* her origins for most of her life. This book is the story of Fethiye Çetin’s grandmother’s life. She was a young girl at the time of the Armenian genocide. The men of her village were killed; the women and children were driven out in a forced march where many people died. Her grandmother however, was picked out by a local Turkish policeman who forcibly separated her from her mother, and took her home with the intention of raising her as his daughter. I use the word “intention” because although he was kind to her, his wife was not, and did not accept her as one of the family. To her, she was a servant. She, along with many other children cynically called “les restes de l’épée” (I don’t know how that was translated into English, “the remains of the sword”, maybe?), were given new, Muslim, names and were integrated into Turkish society, learning a new language, alphabet, religion and culture. In a final, cruel twist of fate, although the grandmother’s parents survived the genocide (her father was living and working in the US at the time, her mother managed to safely reach Syria, then join him in the US), she never saw them again.
The last few pages describe the restoration of the two fountains in Fethiye Çetin’s grandmother’s native village, Havav. You can have a look at them here: https://westernarmenia.weebly.com/havav-fountains.html
* I put “hiding” in inverted commas because clearly, this was an open secret to the older generations: neighbours knew, many of them were in similar situations, and the word “Convert” on her identification papers were a clear sign to the authorities that she had Armenian origins and could be discriminated against.
21Dilara86
I just remembered something that might be of interest... Last year, The Guardian did a special feature called Secret Stans about the five formerly Russian "Stans": Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan
22spiphany
I've expanded my comments in post >6 spiphany: to briefly discuss some common themes that might be useful to think about while reading.
Re >20 Dilara86: Given that this is a part of the world where ethnic groups don't correspond neatly with national borders and also given the forced diasporas that members of many ethnic groups (including Armenians) represented in these regions have experienced, I'm inclined to be rather fluid with our definitions of what counts for our theme read. I should have mentioned in my introduction that I haven't always distinguished explicitly between nationality and ethnic identity, but tried to follow whatever term(s) the author seems to have identified as.
I'm currently reading a book by archaeologist Barry Cunliffe By Steppe, Desert and Ocean which is based around the thesis that historically Eurasia should be considered a single continent with Central Asia (the steppes and deserts of the title) playing a particular role in connecting the continent and facilitating the movement of things and ideas. I'm still in the third millennium BC and his history ends in 1300 AD, so it's only minimally useful for understanding the contemporary situation, but I am finding it enlightening for getting a sense of the geography and history of this region.
I'm also reading an anthology of Kazakh short stories from the 1960s and I have a number of other books lined up -- in particular some volumes by Galsan Tschinag (Tuvan/Mongolia) and Chingiz Aitmatov (Kyrgyzstan), both of whom I have read and liked in the past.
Likewise on my list is Das achte Leben ("The Eighth Life") by Nino Haratischwili, a Georgian family chronicle covering nearly a century and over 1200 pages, although I'm a bit intimidated by the page count! Haratischwili is a talented young Georgian novelist and dramatist who now lives in Germany and writes in German. I have a feeling she's well on her way to establishing herself as a major figure in contemporary German literature. None of her novels have appeared in English translation yet, although The Eighth Life is supposedly due to appear this fall (an excerpt from the prologue can be read here).
However, I really stopped by this thread to make a recommendation for Fazil Iskander, an Abkhazian writer who has been compared to Mark Twain for his humorous, satirical style. I read Sandro of Chegem years ago and found it a lot of fun. His stories tend to center around the escapades of village rogues, but he also satirized the absurdities of Soviet policies, which meant that a number of his works were censored prior to 1990. I think most of the translations of his work are probably out of print, but archive.org has a collection entitled Forbidden Fruit and Other Stories.
Re >20 Dilara86: Given that this is a part of the world where ethnic groups don't correspond neatly with national borders and also given the forced diasporas that members of many ethnic groups (including Armenians) represented in these regions have experienced, I'm inclined to be rather fluid with our definitions of what counts for our theme read. I should have mentioned in my introduction that I haven't always distinguished explicitly between nationality and ethnic identity, but tried to follow whatever term(s) the author seems to have identified as.
I'm currently reading a book by archaeologist Barry Cunliffe By Steppe, Desert and Ocean which is based around the thesis that historically Eurasia should be considered a single continent with Central Asia (the steppes and deserts of the title) playing a particular role in connecting the continent and facilitating the movement of things and ideas. I'm still in the third millennium BC and his history ends in 1300 AD, so it's only minimally useful for understanding the contemporary situation, but I am finding it enlightening for getting a sense of the geography and history of this region.
I'm also reading an anthology of Kazakh short stories from the 1960s and I have a number of other books lined up -- in particular some volumes by Galsan Tschinag (Tuvan/Mongolia) and Chingiz Aitmatov (Kyrgyzstan), both of whom I have read and liked in the past.
Likewise on my list is Das achte Leben ("The Eighth Life") by Nino Haratischwili, a Georgian family chronicle covering nearly a century and over 1200 pages, although I'm a bit intimidated by the page count! Haratischwili is a talented young Georgian novelist and dramatist who now lives in Germany and writes in German. I have a feeling she's well on her way to establishing herself as a major figure in contemporary German literature. None of her novels have appeared in English translation yet, although The Eighth Life is supposedly due to appear this fall (an excerpt from the prologue can be read here).
However, I really stopped by this thread to make a recommendation for Fazil Iskander, an Abkhazian writer who has been compared to Mark Twain for his humorous, satirical style. I read Sandro of Chegem years ago and found it a lot of fun. His stories tend to center around the escapades of village rogues, but he also satirized the absurdities of Soviet policies, which meant that a number of his works were censored prior to 1990. I think most of the translations of his work are probably out of print, but archive.org has a collection entitled Forbidden Fruit and Other Stories.
23cindydavid4
Birds without Wings is a story of a Turkish villiage pre WWI and just after, and its connection to the Greek members of the community. Beautifully written, and heart breaking (never knew that the greeks and turkish were forced to leave their home country to go to where they originated, even if they had never lived there.) Also delves into the armenian genocide. Anyway lots of historic references about the country and the region
24Tess_W
The Mountain and the Wall is the first novel by Alisa Ganieva, a native Russian, born in Moscow, moved to Dagestan as a child, and then back to Moscow for university. This is the story of Shamil right before and during the hypothetical building of a wall that will separate Russia from Dagestan. Following those rumors (or are they?) the town of Makhachkala is in turmoil when extremist Muslims try to enforce Sharia law, knowing the Russians will not be there to stop them. The usual that we see today (especially in Eastern Turkey): blowing up and burning of museums, no TV or internet access, all women must dress in hajib, railroad tracks are torn apart, musical instruments and books taken to the town square and burned. All businesses owned by women were confiscated. The reader sees this through the eyes of Shamil, a "writer"???, who doesn't seem to work and is not the most likeable fellow.
I really tried to like this book but came away cold. Firstly, there were so many (as many as 12 on one page) foreign words (you couldn't get from context). I read this on Kindle so the word translations were in the glossary on the last page and to flip back and forth 4-5 times per page just didn't work for me. I can't believe there were that many words that couldn't be translated. If one is going to read it, I would suggest a hard copy. Secondly, it just wasn't interesting. I found it to be mundane. There were no shockers or surprises; most of this information I've gotten from news programs. 264 pages 2 1/2 stars.
I'm an old fogey, think I will stick with Tolstoy, Bulgakov, and Solzhenitsyn.
I really tried to like this book but came away cold. Firstly, there were so many (as many as 12 on one page) foreign words (you couldn't get from context). I read this on Kindle so the word translations were in the glossary on the last page and to flip back and forth 4-5 times per page just didn't work for me. I can't believe there were that many words that couldn't be translated. If one is going to read it, I would suggest a hard copy. Secondly, it just wasn't interesting. I found it to be mundane. There were no shockers or surprises; most of this information I've gotten from news programs. 264 pages 2 1/2 stars.
I'm an old fogey, think I will stick with Tolstoy, Bulgakov, and Solzhenitsyn.
25EllaTim
>22 spiphany: Das Achte Leben has been translated into Dutch, I found it in the library. I have placed a reservation, it seems to be very popular, I couldn't find even one available copy!
26spiphany
>24 Tess_W: Sorry to hear that you were disappointed by The Mountain and the Wall. That had been on my list of books that looked interesting for this quarter, so I'll keep your comments in mind when deciding how to prioritize my reading.
Concerning the large number of foreign words, obviously I don't know the author's reasons for her choice, but it's possible that the motivation wasn't because the terms were "untranslatable" or even just to add a sense of atmosphere, but to emphasize the fact that the characters exist in a multilingual environment, so the foreign terms reflect their world. (Some Latino/Latina writers in the US -- Sandra Cisneros comes to mind -- use this technique, writing in English but scattering Spanish words and phrases liberally throughout the text.) Heavy use of foreign words can also be a deliberate distancing or estrangement device which might be fitting in a story that deals with a struggle between cultural models.
Of course, intentional or not, that doesn't necessarily mean that it works in the novel, and I can see that constantly having to look up terms would be frustrating.
(If you want recommendations for contemporary Russian writers, you might try Lyudmila Ulitskaya, whom I've found to be a consistently engaging storyteller. I'm not linking to the author page here since it's a bit off-topic.)
Concerning the large number of foreign words, obviously I don't know the author's reasons for her choice, but it's possible that the motivation wasn't because the terms were "untranslatable" or even just to add a sense of atmosphere, but to emphasize the fact that the characters exist in a multilingual environment, so the foreign terms reflect their world. (Some Latino/Latina writers in the US -- Sandra Cisneros comes to mind -- use this technique, writing in English but scattering Spanish words and phrases liberally throughout the text.) Heavy use of foreign words can also be a deliberate distancing or estrangement device which might be fitting in a story that deals with a struggle between cultural models.
Of course, intentional or not, that doesn't necessarily mean that it works in the novel, and I can see that constantly having to look up terms would be frustrating.
(If you want recommendations for contemporary Russian writers, you might try Lyudmila Ulitskaya, whom I've found to be a consistently engaging storyteller. I'm not linking to the author page here since it's a bit off-topic.)
27Dilara86
Par les monts et les plaines d'Asie centrale (Through the mountains and plains of Central Asia) by Anne Nivat
Writer’s gender: Female
Writer’s nationality: French
Original language: French
Translated into: N/A
Location: The 5 Stans: Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan
Anne Nivat is a journalist and war reporter specialising in Russia and Central Asia. She worked in Afghanistan, Iraq and Chechnya, amongst other places. It seems most of her books are available in English, but not this one…
In Par les monts et les plaines d’Asie centrale, Anne Nivat travels on her own or with a cameraman in all 5 former USSR republics of Central Asia: Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Turkmenistan, for two extended periods of time, in the early noughties. She spends the majority of her time in the Fergana valley, a fertile and therefore densely populated area disputed to some extent between all five countries. She also goes to several capitals and big cities, as well as the Pamirs. She sees and talks to all sorts of people in her travel: Kyrgyz, Kazakh, Uzbek, Tajik, Turkmen, Russian, Korean, Uighur, men and women, artists, government officials, farmers, imams, etc. including a terrifying number of educated people (teachers, engineers…) who’ve had to give up on their careers to survive. The book is in three parts: People from the plains, People from the mountains, and People of Islam. So, the first two parts follow geographical lines and contain wide-ranging information about each area, whereas the last one focuses on the reclaiming of Islam by the local Muslim population, and the rise (or not) of fundamentalist Islam, as well as its instrumentalisation by the authorities.
I am very much aware, however, that none of the non-fiction books I’ve found in my local library is less than 10 years old, including this one. And a lot happened these last 10 years, not least the war on terror, which means that I am not going to get up-to-date information about the political situation from these books. Even so, Par les monts et les plaines was interesting, and gave me a much clearer idea of the local geography, and of how complicated the “ethnic spread” is in the region.
Writer’s gender: Female
Writer’s nationality: French
Original language: French
Translated into: N/A
Location: The 5 Stans: Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan
Anne Nivat is a journalist and war reporter specialising in Russia and Central Asia. She worked in Afghanistan, Iraq and Chechnya, amongst other places. It seems most of her books are available in English, but not this one…
In Par les monts et les plaines d’Asie centrale, Anne Nivat travels on her own or with a cameraman in all 5 former USSR republics of Central Asia: Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Turkmenistan, for two extended periods of time, in the early noughties. She spends the majority of her time in the Fergana valley, a fertile and therefore densely populated area disputed to some extent between all five countries. She also goes to several capitals and big cities, as well as the Pamirs. She sees and talks to all sorts of people in her travel: Kyrgyz, Kazakh, Uzbek, Tajik, Turkmen, Russian, Korean, Uighur, men and women, artists, government officials, farmers, imams, etc. including a terrifying number of educated people (teachers, engineers…) who’ve had to give up on their careers to survive. The book is in three parts: People from the plains, People from the mountains, and People of Islam. So, the first two parts follow geographical lines and contain wide-ranging information about each area, whereas the last one focuses on the reclaiming of Islam by the local Muslim population, and the rise (or not) of fundamentalist Islam, as well as its instrumentalisation by the authorities.
I am very much aware, however, that none of the non-fiction books I’ve found in my local library is less than 10 years old, including this one. And a lot happened these last 10 years, not least the war on terror, which means that I am not going to get up-to-date information about the political situation from these books. Even so, Par les monts et les plaines was interesting, and gave me a much clearer idea of the local geography, and of how complicated the “ethnic spread” is in the region.
28Tess_W
A friend recommended to me: Wave of Terror by Theodore Odrach about Stalinist repression in a part of Belarus. (Which was then or is now part of the Ukraine???)
29spiphany
>28 Tess_W: Well, Belarus and Ukraine would put us squarely in Europe rather than Asia, although certainly some of the same dynamics (repression, violence, mass deportation/resettlement) would apply as in the Caucasian and Central Asian areas of the Soviet Union.
----
I spontaneously picked up The Patience Stone by Atiq Rahimi, which hadn't been on my to-read list for this quarter, but it was only €1 at the local friends of the library book sale, so what else was I supposed to do?
This short novel takes place entirely in a single room -- "somewhere in Afghanistan or elsewhere" -- where the husband of our unnamed protagonist lies unconscious with a gunshot wound. As she takes care of him day after day, alone, she begins to talk: about her relationship with a man who was absent during most of their period of marriage, about the feelings and experiences that she was never able to to share with him. As she talks, her monologue, even as she recounts the lack of choices and the limitations imposed upon her, somehow takes on an empowering quality.
The language is elegant and minimialist and the entire narrative is written almost like a screenplay: while reamining within the room, we hear gunshots in the distance, voices outside, the woman moves in and out of our field of vision. In her absence, the writerly "camera" zooms in now and again to show the activities of several ants, a fly, and a spider inhabiting the silence of the room. Rahimi is also a film director, and in fact was involved in a film adaptation of the novel, so it may have been written with this intent. Nonetheless, I found that this narrative choice worked in its own right: the story is an eloquent and effective fable about the fate of women in a misogynist state. It reminded me a bit of Rabih Alameddine's "An Unnecessary Woman" -- thanks to southernbooklady for the recommendation -- there is something similar about the way that the protagonists through their inner monologue are able to "own" their fates, to find satisfaction and joy in what they can control and quiet, unnoticed personal rebellions in spite of the limited options that their society offers them.
----
My next read was Die Stadt auf dem Wasser ("The City on the Water") by Georgian writer Salome Benidze, which I confess I was initially drawn to mostly by the cover art. (And it is in fact a beautifully designed book: each of stories is preceded by a black-and-white illustration by the same Georgian artist who created the cover.)
Like "The Patience Stone", this is also a book about women's lives. However, apart from a certain fable-like quality, it couldn't be more different stylistically. This is a collection of fantasy-tinged, dreamlike stories that mostly feature women struggling with unrequited love and/or infidelity: a woman who gives birth to spiders; a girl found mysteriously in a boat as a baby and, as she grows older, irresistably attracts the men of the city to join her for trysts on the islands; an architect who is able to see everything happening in the city in a glass sphere; a woman who turns into a tree to end the drought that has come over the city. Gradually the reader becomes aware of the links between all these women, and in the final story, one woman is able to draw on these collective experiences to overcome her own suffering.
This ist not quite the sort of book one might expect from an author who has worked as a journalist and advocate for women's rights: the stories are sensual, romantic tales that don't directly address sober problems like structural inequality, oppression, violence against women, and similar issues. Her protagonists suffer under the more universal problem of emotions and interpersonal relationships in a world in which fairy-tale laws of attraction seem to apply. But within the fantastic framework there are liberating threads, in that these women are able to have dreams and ambitions they are able to pursue; they participate in boat races, become architects, work their way out of poverty, survive breast cancer.
The book has evidently been quite highly acclaimed in Georgia and won awards; the German translation -- which was supported by the Georgian Ministry of Culture -- doesn't seem to have made much of a splash, perhaps in part because of its publication by a relatively obscure independent press that specializes in writing by women (until now, apparently mostly forgotten German or German-Jewish writers of the mid- to late twentieth century).
----
I spontaneously picked up The Patience Stone by Atiq Rahimi, which hadn't been on my to-read list for this quarter, but it was only €1 at the local friends of the library book sale, so what else was I supposed to do?
This short novel takes place entirely in a single room -- "somewhere in Afghanistan or elsewhere" -- where the husband of our unnamed protagonist lies unconscious with a gunshot wound. As she takes care of him day after day, alone, she begins to talk: about her relationship with a man who was absent during most of their period of marriage, about the feelings and experiences that she was never able to to share with him. As she talks, her monologue, even as she recounts the lack of choices and the limitations imposed upon her, somehow takes on an empowering quality.
The language is elegant and minimialist and the entire narrative is written almost like a screenplay: while reamining within the room, we hear gunshots in the distance, voices outside, the woman moves in and out of our field of vision. In her absence, the writerly "camera" zooms in now and again to show the activities of several ants, a fly, and a spider inhabiting the silence of the room. Rahimi is also a film director, and in fact was involved in a film adaptation of the novel, so it may have been written with this intent. Nonetheless, I found that this narrative choice worked in its own right: the story is an eloquent and effective fable about the fate of women in a misogynist state. It reminded me a bit of Rabih Alameddine's "An Unnecessary Woman" -- thanks to southernbooklady for the recommendation -- there is something similar about the way that the protagonists through their inner monologue are able to "own" their fates, to find satisfaction and joy in what they can control and quiet, unnoticed personal rebellions in spite of the limited options that their society offers them.
----
My next read was Die Stadt auf dem Wasser ("The City on the Water") by Georgian writer Salome Benidze, which I confess I was initially drawn to mostly by the cover art. (And it is in fact a beautifully designed book: each of stories is preceded by a black-and-white illustration by the same Georgian artist who created the cover.)
Like "The Patience Stone", this is also a book about women's lives. However, apart from a certain fable-like quality, it couldn't be more different stylistically. This is a collection of fantasy-tinged, dreamlike stories that mostly feature women struggling with unrequited love and/or infidelity: a woman who gives birth to spiders; a girl found mysteriously in a boat as a baby and, as she grows older, irresistably attracts the men of the city to join her for trysts on the islands; an architect who is able to see everything happening in the city in a glass sphere; a woman who turns into a tree to end the drought that has come over the city. Gradually the reader becomes aware of the links between all these women, and in the final story, one woman is able to draw on these collective experiences to overcome her own suffering.
This ist not quite the sort of book one might expect from an author who has worked as a journalist and advocate for women's rights: the stories are sensual, romantic tales that don't directly address sober problems like structural inequality, oppression, violence against women, and similar issues. Her protagonists suffer under the more universal problem of emotions and interpersonal relationships in a world in which fairy-tale laws of attraction seem to apply. But within the fantastic framework there are liberating threads, in that these women are able to have dreams and ambitions they are able to pursue; they participate in boat races, become architects, work their way out of poverty, survive breast cancer.
The book has evidently been quite highly acclaimed in Georgia and won awards; the German translation -- which was supported by the Georgian Ministry of Culture -- doesn't seem to have made much of a splash, perhaps in part because of its publication by a relatively obscure independent press that specializes in writing by women (until now, apparently mostly forgotten German or German-Jewish writers of the mid- to late twentieth century).
30cindydavid4
>29 spiphany: Your comparison of Patience Stone with Unnecessary Woman was good enough for me. Need to find that one, thanks for the rec
31Tess_W
>29 spiphany: You are correct re: Belarus! I was using the map in my head and forgot we are just reading Central Asia! I always equate The Ukraine with Russia; but need to get out of that habit! (I teach about Stalin's repression of the Ukraine and the resultant genocide in World History)
32Dilara86
Le Libraire de Kaboul (The Bookseller of Kabul)by Åsne Seierstad, translated by Céline Romand-Monnier
Writer’s gender: Female
Writer’s nationality: Norwegian
Original language: Norwegian
Translated into: French
Location: Afghanistan, mainly Kabul, also Pakistan
Åsne Seierstad is a Norwegian journalist. She met the bookseller of the title while reporting from Afghanistan, struck a “friendship” with him, and ended up living with him and his family, in Kabul, for a few months. She was only able to communicate in English with three members of this extended family, which is not a lot. She then wrote a book about them. It is supposed to be non-fiction, but there are a lot of assumptions about how people feel that she cannot possibly have been told. This is annoying. It reminded me of those terrible novelised history books, where the author will tell you how nervous but excited the Prince felt before the battle, and how the Queen must have been beside herself with worry, “as a mother”. There’s clearly a lot of artistic licence for a journalistic work, which feels disingenuous. Also, Seierstad found one of the most dysfunctional families on planet Earth to write about, which would be fine if it was straight-up fiction and presented as such, or if the readership was clear on the fact that the family is not necessarily representative of Afghans as a whole. They use their culture and religion to justify, bolster and validate their dysfunctional behaviours, as do sociopaths everywhere. That does not mean that the writer should follow them there. Culture does have an impact on behaviour, of course, but it doesn’t explain every interpersonal dynamic. For example, you can’t on the one hand tell us how the little brother is disrespectful and tyrannical towards his female elders because male ALWAYS trumps female, and on the other, have a grown man at the beck and call of his mother later on in the book. In short, I felt the book didn’t work as fiction, nor as non-fiction. It lacked nuance and depth.
Writer’s gender: Female
Writer’s nationality: Norwegian
Original language: Norwegian
Translated into: French
Location: Afghanistan, mainly Kabul, also Pakistan
Åsne Seierstad is a Norwegian journalist. She met the bookseller of the title while reporting from Afghanistan, struck a “friendship” with him, and ended up living with him and his family, in Kabul, for a few months. She was only able to communicate in English with three members of this extended family, which is not a lot. She then wrote a book about them. It is supposed to be non-fiction, but there are a lot of assumptions about how people feel that she cannot possibly have been told. This is annoying. It reminded me of those terrible novelised history books, where the author will tell you how nervous but excited the Prince felt before the battle, and how the Queen must have been beside herself with worry, “as a mother”. There’s clearly a lot of artistic licence for a journalistic work, which feels disingenuous. Also, Seierstad found one of the most dysfunctional families on planet Earth to write about, which would be fine if it was straight-up fiction and presented as such, or if the readership was clear on the fact that the family is not necessarily representative of Afghans as a whole. They use their culture and religion to justify, bolster and validate their dysfunctional behaviours, as do sociopaths everywhere. That does not mean that the writer should follow them there. Culture does have an impact on behaviour, of course, but it doesn’t explain every interpersonal dynamic. For example, you can’t on the one hand tell us how the little brother is disrespectful and tyrannical towards his female elders because male ALWAYS trumps female, and on the other, have a grown man at the beck and call of his mother later on in the book. In short, I felt the book didn’t work as fiction, nor as non-fiction. It lacked nuance and depth.
33cindydavid4
Yeah I tried reading that, pretty awful, didn't get far. Felt the same way about the Tea one, or Lolita in Iran. Seemed like it was more about the authors than the subject, and when they talked about the subject it was less than enlighting.
One of my favorite books about the area is a memoir The Storyteller's Daughter by Saira Shah. She is English from afghani who became a journalist and went back to the country. She weaves stories from the culture with history and brings a picture of Afghanistan much different from what we often hear about. Highly recommend it.
One of my favorite books about the area is a memoir The Storyteller's Daughter by Saira Shah. She is English from afghani who became a journalist and went back to the country. She weaves stories from the culture with history and brings a picture of Afghanistan much different from what we often hear about. Highly recommend it.
34Dilara86
>33 cindydavid4: Thanks for the rec: it looks engaging! I did a bit of exploring, and found out that Saira Shah is actually Idries Shah's daughter! I'll see if I can get hold of a copy in English...
35cindydavid4
Yes, I knew that; and the book is in English I had never read any of his work, Which ones would yu recommend to start with?.
36Dilara86
>35 cindydavid4: Oops! Sorry, I was basically thinking aloud! Here's my back story so you can make sense of my previous post. The reason I mentioned looking for a copy in English is because I live in France. Although I read a lot of books in translation, they're always translated from languages I don't speak. The idea of reading the English translation of a French book or the French translation of an English book makes me shudder... So, I've seen that my library has the French version of the Storyteller's Daughter, but I'm not desperate enough to borrow it at the moment. I'd rather wait until I can get my hands on the original, English version. Until recently, I would have bought it on Amazon, but we're downsizing and trying to live a more frugal life. I'm thinking of trying out Scribd or some other online library to get a better access to books in English.
I haven't read any Idries Shah, but his name is familiar and leapt out when I saw it on Saira Shah's page!
I haven't read any Idries Shah, but his name is familiar and leapt out when I saw it on Saira Shah's page!
37Dilara86
Le Turkménistan (Turkmenistan) by André Kamev
Writer’s gender: Male (André Kamev might be a pseudonym. The author’s real name could be Alain Couanon – a former French ambassador to several Central Asia countries)
Writer’s nationality: If the author is indeed Alain Couanon, French. Otherwise, who knows?
Original language: French. And I could have sworn non-native French (ie, grammatically flawless but possibly “Russian-inflected”), at least in some places.
Translated into: N/A
Location: Turkmenistan
This book is apparently the first monograph about Turkmenistan published in a Western country. As has been the case for all the books I’ve read for this quarter, it isn’t very recent, having been published in 2005. It outlines very competently the geography, history, and (very briefly) culture of Turkmenistan. Imagine a serious, more academically-minded, Michelin Green Guide, with 170 pages of background information, one page of travelling tips, and no phrase book. I learned so many things, and was shocked – once more – by my lack of knowledge about the area. For example, I don’t think I had ever heard of Merv, and it’s a UNESCO site of huge historical importance. I wished the maps were larger and clearer: colours would have been useful. Oh, and as is often the case with that kind of book, I had to do quite a bit of extra digging on Wikipedia to get a clearer picture of what was being described.
A very good find from the library, published by Karthala. There are so many books I’d like from their catalogue! It’s such a shame there’s hardly anything under €18, and so many books over €30…
Writer’s gender: Male (André Kamev might be a pseudonym. The author’s real name could be Alain Couanon – a former French ambassador to several Central Asia countries)
Writer’s nationality: If the author is indeed Alain Couanon, French. Otherwise, who knows?
Original language: French. And I could have sworn non-native French (ie, grammatically flawless but possibly “Russian-inflected”), at least in some places.
Translated into: N/A
Location: Turkmenistan
This book is apparently the first monograph about Turkmenistan published in a Western country. As has been the case for all the books I’ve read for this quarter, it isn’t very recent, having been published in 2005. It outlines very competently the geography, history, and (very briefly) culture of Turkmenistan. Imagine a serious, more academically-minded, Michelin Green Guide, with 170 pages of background information, one page of travelling tips, and no phrase book. I learned so many things, and was shocked – once more – by my lack of knowledge about the area. For example, I don’t think I had ever heard of Merv, and it’s a UNESCO site of huge historical importance. I wished the maps were larger and clearer: colours would have been useful. Oh, and as is often the case with that kind of book, I had to do quite a bit of extra digging on Wikipedia to get a clearer picture of what was being described.
A very good find from the library, published by Karthala. There are so many books I’d like from their catalogue! It’s such a shame there’s hardly anything under €18, and so many books over €30…
38cindydavid4
Oh I get it, no apology necessary, I was kinda being snarky! Have you tried Book Depository? Or Book Finders (one of my go to place for book searches) See if that will help get you books in English, often at decent prices! And You have whetted my appetite for Idries Shah, so its all good!
39Dilara86
Don't tempt me! We have a One Book In, One Book Out policy at the moment !
I'm slogging through The Railway by Hamid Ismailov, and he mentions Manas, a Kyrgyz epic poem. I did a bit of research and found a partial translation in French Aventures merveilleuses sous terre et ailleurs de Er-Töshtük le géant des steppes: Épopée du cycle de Manas and a Youtube video of a famous "bard", Sayakbay Karalaev (he's on the Kyrgyz 500 som note), reciting some of it (in Kyrgyz): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nU-yk76pc8Q. The text under the video is quite instructive.
Speaking of videos, there's this documentary, if you can stand its patronising tone: The people, history and culture of Uzbekistan - Traveling the Silk Road. The link will take you to the English version, but the original has got be in German.
I'm slogging through The Railway by Hamid Ismailov, and he mentions Manas, a Kyrgyz epic poem. I did a bit of research and found a partial translation in French Aventures merveilleuses sous terre et ailleurs de Er-Töshtük le géant des steppes: Épopée du cycle de Manas and a Youtube video of a famous "bard", Sayakbay Karalaev (he's on the Kyrgyz 500 som note), reciting some of it (in Kyrgyz): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nU-yk76pc8Q. The text under the video is quite instructive.
Speaking of videos, there's this documentary, if you can stand its patronising tone: The people, history and culture of Uzbekistan - Traveling the Silk Road. The link will take you to the English version, but the original has got be in German.
40Dilara86
There's an hour-long documentary about Sayakbay Karalaev as well https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2-VVAV6MzCg that looks fantastic if you understand Russian and Kyrgyz, which I don't. Unfortunately, there are no subtitles available, but I thought I'd link to it anyway in case it's useful to someone else. And you never know, it might prompt someone into working on them! Also, I'm pretty sure the man from 1:48 is Chinghiz Aitmatov.
41jveezer
>2 spiphany: I just finished And Quiet Flows the Don and it was wonderful. Seems like that might belong in the Caucausus? Or to far north? The Cossacks certainly roamed all over that region, with the Don Cossacks settling there...
42spiphany
>41 jveezer: I'm not entirely sure. I had looked for some maps to post for orientation during this theme read but didn't find anything I was entirely happy with. I think the southern reaches of the Don and Volga are probably at the northern end of what would usually be considered the Caucasus (Rostov-on-Don is apparently sometimes referred to as the "gateway to the Caucasus"), however the historical-geographical boundaries are not necessarily clear-cut. In any case, as you note, the Cossacks were active in the entire region.
Random trivia: the term "Cossack" is probably etymologically, although not historically connected to "Kazakh" -- which we traditionally spell with an H at the end largely because the Russians chose represent it in Cyrillic as Казах to distinguish it from Cossack (Казак). The -KH instead of K apparently doesn't reflect a sound difference in the Kazakh language, so some people prefer the spellings "Kazak" and "Kazakstan". (Due to a recent decree that the country will switch from a Cyrillic-based alphabet to the Latin alphabet, the spelling "Qazaqstan" may also be in our future. See here)
----
My latest read for this quarter turned out to be a disappointment (I gave up about halfway through). Olga Grjasnowa is a Russian-Jewish author from Azerbaijan who moved to Germany as a child and writes in German. I had previously read her debut novel, All Russians Love Birch Trees (set in Germany and Israel), and enjoyed it in spite of some weaknesses in plotting and characterization. So I was curious to read Die juristische Unschärfe einer Ehe ("The Legal Fuzziness of a Marriage"), which is set partly in Azerbaijan.
Unfortunately, she doesn't seem to have matured significantly as a writer. I found the characters stereotyped and the story overall to be very superficial. Perhaps the most frustrating part of the novel was the fact that a lot of time seemed to be spent setting the scene while the interesting bits -- the inner lives of the characters, key moments and their responses to them -- always seemed to be the things that took place between the chapters. We learn, for example, that our protagonists Leyla and Altay entered into a sham marriage so that they could satisfy social expectations while enabling each to pursue romantic relationships with their own sex. But at some point, we learn later, they begin sleeping together now and again and even start thinking about having a child together. But we learn nothing about this transformation or how it happened. The aftermath of Leyla's accident that definitively ends her precarious career as a ballerina similarly takes place behind the scenes.
No doubt Grjasnowa captures the experiences of a certain subset of her generation, and it may be valid to compare her rootless, directionless young people with Hemingway's expats in The Sun Also Rises: they are similarly simultaneously traumatized and obliviously privileged, and they seem determined to spend their free time going to clubs, drinking, and hooking up with a steady stream of partners. (It may be that I simply have limited tolerance for this sort of thing; I was never a big fan of Hemingway, either.) Behind all of this seems to be a feeling of having endless possibilities but being deprived of the chance to make anything of them, of wanting to rebel in an age in which rebellion no longer seems likely to have any effect.
I should note here that the opening chapter -- in which Leyla is in a prison after having been arrested for illegal auto racing through the middle of Baku -- captures this incredibly effectively: the young people of Baku have no hope of starting an "Arab Spring" in the Caucasus, so they turn to auto racing to release that angry energy; the state cannot prevent this activity, so arrests the drivers as a deterrance; the drivers, largely children of rich families, are released after a certain amount of time and the payment of the appropriate bribes, and so the game continues.
----
My current reading, fortunately, promises to be better:
Der mongolische Fürst ("The Mongolian Prince") by Russian author Leonid Yuzefovich, a historical mystery set in late nineteenth-century Russia which just misses qualifying for this theme. The story deals with the mysterious death of a Mongolian envoy in St. Petersburg but we never actually quite get to Mongolia, except in the form of some reports by a Russian general on his experiences supporting the Mongolians in their rebellion against Chinese rule. Yuzefovich is a history professor and did military service in Mongolia, and he uses this to create a detailled, convincing picture of the era. The condescending/exoticizing (even if probably completely period-authentic) attitudes towards the Mongolians make me slightly uneasy, but this is largely countered by Yuzefovich's evident cynicism about imperial ambitions and the civilizing mission -- in other words, his characters might believe these things, but his views are more nuanced and much less judgmental. He has a subtle ironic humor that I quite enjoy, for example, Inspector Putilin wonders why his painter friend's landscapes are always so dark and gloomy, as though there were always bad weather in Russia, and comments that the atmosphere would surely be brighter and cheerier if the painter were Italian. Or an authorial comment about a ghost story having gotten by the censors because the censor probably didn't read past the bit where the foreign prince chose to convert to Christianity.
I've also started The Railway by Hamid Ismailov. Although I've found it easier to chase down most of the books for this quarter in German rather than in English, Ismailov is an exception, most likely because he has been working in England for the BBC for the last two decades. This turns out to be a boon for readers, since it meant that he was able to work closely with the translator in producing the English version. I found Robert Chandler's introduction, in which he discusses how he came to translate the novel in the first place and some of the particular challenges it presented, very interesting. I was also intrigued by Chandler's comment that Ismailov was apparently deeply impressed by Andrey Platonov's novel Soul to the extent that he felt for a long time that Platonov had already said all there was to say about Central Asia.
Random trivia: the term "Cossack" is probably etymologically, although not historically connected to "Kazakh" -- which we traditionally spell with an H at the end largely because the Russians chose represent it in Cyrillic as Казах to distinguish it from Cossack (Казак). The -KH instead of K apparently doesn't reflect a sound difference in the Kazakh language, so some people prefer the spellings "Kazak" and "Kazakstan". (Due to a recent decree that the country will switch from a Cyrillic-based alphabet to the Latin alphabet, the spelling "Qazaqstan" may also be in our future. See here)
----
My latest read for this quarter turned out to be a disappointment (I gave up about halfway through). Olga Grjasnowa is a Russian-Jewish author from Azerbaijan who moved to Germany as a child and writes in German. I had previously read her debut novel, All Russians Love Birch Trees (set in Germany and Israel), and enjoyed it in spite of some weaknesses in plotting and characterization. So I was curious to read Die juristische Unschärfe einer Ehe ("The Legal Fuzziness of a Marriage"), which is set partly in Azerbaijan.
Unfortunately, she doesn't seem to have matured significantly as a writer. I found the characters stereotyped and the story overall to be very superficial. Perhaps the most frustrating part of the novel was the fact that a lot of time seemed to be spent setting the scene while the interesting bits -- the inner lives of the characters, key moments and their responses to them -- always seemed to be the things that took place between the chapters. We learn, for example, that our protagonists Leyla and Altay entered into a sham marriage so that they could satisfy social expectations while enabling each to pursue romantic relationships with their own sex. But at some point, we learn later, they begin sleeping together now and again and even start thinking about having a child together. But we learn nothing about this transformation or how it happened. The aftermath of Leyla's accident that definitively ends her precarious career as a ballerina similarly takes place behind the scenes.
No doubt Grjasnowa captures the experiences of a certain subset of her generation, and it may be valid to compare her rootless, directionless young people with Hemingway's expats in The Sun Also Rises: they are similarly simultaneously traumatized and obliviously privileged, and they seem determined to spend their free time going to clubs, drinking, and hooking up with a steady stream of partners. (It may be that I simply have limited tolerance for this sort of thing; I was never a big fan of Hemingway, either.) Behind all of this seems to be a feeling of having endless possibilities but being deprived of the chance to make anything of them, of wanting to rebel in an age in which rebellion no longer seems likely to have any effect.
I should note here that the opening chapter -- in which Leyla is in a prison after having been arrested for illegal auto racing through the middle of Baku -- captures this incredibly effectively: the young people of Baku have no hope of starting an "Arab Spring" in the Caucasus, so they turn to auto racing to release that angry energy; the state cannot prevent this activity, so arrests the drivers as a deterrance; the drivers, largely children of rich families, are released after a certain amount of time and the payment of the appropriate bribes, and so the game continues.
----
My current reading, fortunately, promises to be better:
Der mongolische Fürst ("The Mongolian Prince") by Russian author Leonid Yuzefovich, a historical mystery set in late nineteenth-century Russia which just misses qualifying for this theme. The story deals with the mysterious death of a Mongolian envoy in St. Petersburg but we never actually quite get to Mongolia, except in the form of some reports by a Russian general on his experiences supporting the Mongolians in their rebellion against Chinese rule. Yuzefovich is a history professor and did military service in Mongolia, and he uses this to create a detailled, convincing picture of the era. The condescending/exoticizing (even if probably completely period-authentic) attitudes towards the Mongolians make me slightly uneasy, but this is largely countered by Yuzefovich's evident cynicism about imperial ambitions and the civilizing mission -- in other words, his characters might believe these things, but his views are more nuanced and much less judgmental. He has a subtle ironic humor that I quite enjoy, for example, Inspector Putilin wonders why his painter friend's landscapes are always so dark and gloomy, as though there were always bad weather in Russia, and comments that the atmosphere would surely be brighter and cheerier if the painter were Italian. Or an authorial comment about a ghost story having gotten by the censors because the censor probably didn't read past the bit where the foreign prince chose to convert to Christianity.
I've also started The Railway by Hamid Ismailov. Although I've found it easier to chase down most of the books for this quarter in German rather than in English, Ismailov is an exception, most likely because he has been working in England for the BBC for the last two decades. This turns out to be a boon for readers, since it meant that he was able to work closely with the translator in producing the English version. I found Robert Chandler's introduction, in which he discusses how he came to translate the novel in the first place and some of the particular challenges it presented, very interesting. I was also intrigued by Chandler's comment that Ismailov was apparently deeply impressed by Andrey Platonov's novel Soul to the extent that he felt for a long time that Platonov had already said all there was to say about Central Asia.
43Dilara86
Right after >42 spiphany:'s mention of The Railway, here's my take on it. I'm curious to hear about what you thought of it. Next on the list for me is La fin du chant (Das Ende des Liedes), the last book by Galsan Tschinag available from my local library that I hadn't already read.
The Railway by Hamid Ismailov, translated by Robert Chandler
Writer’s gender: Male
Writer’s nationality: Uzbek, British
Original language: Russian
Translated into: English
Location: Gilas, Uzbekistan
This book is made up of a succession of vignettes about the people of a small railway town called Gilas. The stories and characters are quite disparate, but they do blend into some kind of (grim and slightly surreal) whole, which is not unlike the Gilas itself. This is a fruit salad of a place, where people of all sorts of ethnicities (Uzbeks of course, Koreans, Russians, Kyrgyz, Tajiks, Uighurs, etc.) and beliefs (Muslims, Christians, Jews, sincere communists, reformed ones…) live side by side. It took me a long time to finish this book. I couldn’t get into it at first, and I found the writer’s type of humour tedious. I’m glad I persevered though, because I can see the value in the writing, even though it wasn’t entirely for me. I learnt a lot about the area, the culture, local dynamics, history and people. The translator’s notes and preface were a godsend.
The Railway by Hamid Ismailov, translated by Robert Chandler
Writer’s gender: Male
Writer’s nationality: Uzbek, British
Original language: Russian
Translated into: English
Location: Gilas, Uzbekistan
This book is made up of a succession of vignettes about the people of a small railway town called Gilas. The stories and characters are quite disparate, but they do blend into some kind of (grim and slightly surreal) whole, which is not unlike the Gilas itself. This is a fruit salad of a place, where people of all sorts of ethnicities (Uzbeks of course, Koreans, Russians, Kyrgyz, Tajiks, Uighurs, etc.) and beliefs (Muslims, Christians, Jews, sincere communists, reformed ones…) live side by side. It took me a long time to finish this book. I couldn’t get into it at first, and I found the writer’s type of humour tedious. I’m glad I persevered though, because I can see the value in the writing, even though it wasn’t entirely for me. I learnt a lot about the area, the culture, local dynamics, history and people. The translator’s notes and preface were a godsend.
44Tess_W
A Thousand Splendid Suns is Hosseini's second novel. The story takes place mostly in Afghanistan,but minor parts also in Pakistan. This novel shows the wretchedness of the human spirit as well as the overriding will to survive at any cost against unimaginable grief, loss, cruelty, and unspeakable tragedy.
This novel covers the period from the Soviet Invasion through 2009. Afghani life is changed drastically depending upon whom is in charge: The Soviets, the muhaideen, the war lords or the Taliban. The descriptions of how the country changes is in detail, and terror, especially when Afghanistan becomes the Islamic State of Afghanistan
The novel focuses on two women: Miriam, a "bastard" child who is married off to a cobbler 20-30 years her senior and Laila, a pregnant, unwed mother. These two women should be enemies, but fear and survival cement their friendship and commitment, even unto death.
A gut-wrenching tear-jerker of a book that will haunt me for sometime.
372 pages, 5 stars
This novel covers the period from the Soviet Invasion through 2009. Afghani life is changed drastically depending upon whom is in charge: The Soviets, the muhaideen, the war lords or the Taliban. The descriptions of how the country changes is in detail, and terror, especially when Afghanistan becomes the Islamic State of Afghanistan
The novel focuses on two women: Miriam, a "bastard" child who is married off to a cobbler 20-30 years her senior and Laila, a pregnant, unwed mother. These two women should be enemies, but fear and survival cement their friendship and commitment, even unto death.
A gut-wrenching tear-jerker of a book that will haunt me for sometime.
372 pages, 5 stars
45cindydavid4
Loved that book, even more so than Kite Runner. BTW a good companion read would be an unexpected light by Jason Elliot. He returns to Afghanistan during the start of the Taliban reign, after fighting for the Mujadib in the 80s. His sense of place and history shows in this travelogue ; very well written, giving background to the events in Thousand Suns
46Dilara86
La fin du chant (Das Ende des Liedes – The End of the Song) by Galsan Tschinag, translated by Dominique Petit and Françoise Toraille
Writer’s gender: Male
Writer’s nationality: Mongolia (ethnic Tuvan from Mongolia, lives in Germany and Mongolia, writes in German)
Original language: German
Translated into: French
Location: Mongolia
I wasn’t going to read another Galsan Tschinag book for this quarter’s theme: I wanted to branch out and try new authors, but I’ve been thwarted by my resolution to not buy books anymore and use the library instead. He is, as far as I can see, the only Mongolian author they carry. I’m not complaining about “having” to read La fin du chant, though. The plot appealed to me and the writing was fine.
Like all the Galsan Tschinag books I’ve read so far, this novel describes the life of the Tuvan minority living in Mongolia. This is the story of Dombuk, a young nomad girl, her father Schuumur, her (now-dead) mother Dshajnaasch and Schuumur’s long-time lover Gulundshaa. The book starts with a harrowing scene, where Dombuk, who is old beyond her years and pretty much female head of the household since her mum died, tries to make a mare whose foal died take to another, strange foal. This involves skinning the dead foal and tying its skin to the living foal. Meanwhile, Schuumur’s children are also in need of a new mum and Gulundshaa is ready to step in, but Schuumur rejected her after Dshajnaasch’s death, projecting onto her his guilt at the way he treated his wife when she was alive (Gulundshaa and Schuumur went on seeing each other after Schuumur’s arranged marriage to Dshajnaasch).
I think La fin du chant is my favourite Galsan Tschinag novel (they can be a bit uneven). The parallel between the horse and human families was a bit too obvious, but it was still a lovely, moving story, by a writer who does not shy from describing unpleasant aspects of his culture, but does it in an intelligent, sympathetic and multidimensional way, with fully-realised female characters.
Writer’s gender: Male
Writer’s nationality: Mongolia (ethnic Tuvan from Mongolia, lives in Germany and Mongolia, writes in German)
Original language: German
Translated into: French
Location: Mongolia
I wasn’t going to read another Galsan Tschinag book for this quarter’s theme: I wanted to branch out and try new authors, but I’ve been thwarted by my resolution to not buy books anymore and use the library instead. He is, as far as I can see, the only Mongolian author they carry. I’m not complaining about “having” to read La fin du chant, though. The plot appealed to me and the writing was fine.
Like all the Galsan Tschinag books I’ve read so far, this novel describes the life of the Tuvan minority living in Mongolia. This is the story of Dombuk, a young nomad girl, her father Schuumur, her (now-dead) mother Dshajnaasch and Schuumur’s long-time lover Gulundshaa. The book starts with a harrowing scene, where Dombuk, who is old beyond her years and pretty much female head of the household since her mum died, tries to make a mare whose foal died take to another, strange foal. This involves skinning the dead foal and tying its skin to the living foal. Meanwhile, Schuumur’s children are also in need of a new mum and Gulundshaa is ready to step in, but Schuumur rejected her after Dshajnaasch’s death, projecting onto her his guilt at the way he treated his wife when she was alive (Gulundshaa and Schuumur went on seeing each other after Schuumur’s arranged marriage to Dshajnaasch).
I think La fin du chant is my favourite Galsan Tschinag novel (they can be a bit uneven). The parallel between the horse and human families was a bit too obvious, but it was still a lovely, moving story, by a writer who does not shy from describing unpleasant aspects of his culture, but does it in an intelligent, sympathetic and multidimensional way, with fully-realised female characters.
47spiphany
I haven't been a very productive reader lately -- partly, I think, because it was so wretchedly hot here for several weeks in July/August that it was difficult to think, much less concentrate on reading. But a number of books that I had lined up for this quarter have also turned out to be difficult for one reason or another.
---
I finished the historical mystery by Leonid Yuzefovich mentioned in >42 spiphany:. I don't have much additional to say about it except that I ended up quite enjoying it. Yuzefovich clearly knows his history and the mystery was well done (there was a secret-society subplot I had some doubts about, but he wrapped it up in a plausible manner). One of Yuzefovich's shorter works -- Horsemen of the Sands -- is available in English and likely worth looking up.
---
Like >43 Dilara86: I've been finding that Ismailov's The Railway works best in small doses. I'm also finding that the switches in tone between the almost elegiac sections about the unnamed "boy" and the anecdotes about the people of the railway town are rather jarring. The folksy, satirical descriptions of the people and small-town life remind me of Fazil Iskander (>22 spiphany:), but Iskander writes with a warmth and affection for his characters that feels like is missing here. (When does a caricature become a cruel stereotype? I don't think this is Ismailov's intent, but sometimes it feels uncomfortably close to crossing that line.)
---
Hoping for something that would grab me more, I started Yury Dombrovsky's Faculty of Useless Knowledge. Dombrovsky was a Russian Soviet writer exiled to Alma-Ata in Kazakhstan and later sent to a prison camp in Siberia; this is the second of two novels inspired by his experiences in Kazakhstan. He is a compelling storyteller, although his earlier novel, Keeper of Antiquities, may be a better introduction to the world of Alma-Ata, since the Faculty of Useless Knowledge centers around the protagonist's imprisonment and I suspect it is going to get pretty grim indeed. The novel was published abroad after Dombrovsky's release and rehabilitation, and there are some theories that its publication resulted in the attack that led to his death in 1978.
---
I've also started Kyrgyz author Chingiz Aitmatov's Kassandramal (German translation of the Russian original; the title means something like "The Mark of Cassandra"). This is a late work by Aitmatov, a science fiction novel that reflects his concern with the negative impact that humans are having on our planet and its lifeforms. It was published in 1994 -- i.e., shortly after the breakup of the Soviet Union -- and explores the premise that a mark begins appearing on the foreheads of pregnant women, indicating that the fetus in her womb does not wish to be born into this world carrying the burden of generations of evildoing. In some way it feels very much a work of the 90s, although in other ways the message is still quite relevant.
However interesting the ideas, though, I think I may have to put the book aside for a year or two or six because I'm finding part of the story rather nauseatingly reminescent of certain current affairs. Rather unexpectedly, the novel is set largely in the US and features a populist and demagogical presidential candidate who whips up the outrage of the masses about the unacceptable interference in American lives by the Russian monk in the space station who has revealed this phenomenon.
So this was NOT the best choice of Aitmatov to read; I have another book of his on my TBR shelf, Der Richtplatz, so I might give that a go instead. Or Galsan Tschinag's Das geraubte Kind. Although like >46 Dilara86: I did want to explore some new authors rather than just reading reliable standbys, I think I may be ready for some comfort reading.
---
I finished the historical mystery by Leonid Yuzefovich mentioned in >42 spiphany:. I don't have much additional to say about it except that I ended up quite enjoying it. Yuzefovich clearly knows his history and the mystery was well done (there was a secret-society subplot I had some doubts about, but he wrapped it up in a plausible manner). One of Yuzefovich's shorter works -- Horsemen of the Sands -- is available in English and likely worth looking up.
---
Like >43 Dilara86: I've been finding that Ismailov's The Railway works best in small doses. I'm also finding that the switches in tone between the almost elegiac sections about the unnamed "boy" and the anecdotes about the people of the railway town are rather jarring. The folksy, satirical descriptions of the people and small-town life remind me of Fazil Iskander (>22 spiphany:), but Iskander writes with a warmth and affection for his characters that feels like is missing here. (When does a caricature become a cruel stereotype? I don't think this is Ismailov's intent, but sometimes it feels uncomfortably close to crossing that line.)
---
Hoping for something that would grab me more, I started Yury Dombrovsky's Faculty of Useless Knowledge. Dombrovsky was a Russian Soviet writer exiled to Alma-Ata in Kazakhstan and later sent to a prison camp in Siberia; this is the second of two novels inspired by his experiences in Kazakhstan. He is a compelling storyteller, although his earlier novel, Keeper of Antiquities, may be a better introduction to the world of Alma-Ata, since the Faculty of Useless Knowledge centers around the protagonist's imprisonment and I suspect it is going to get pretty grim indeed. The novel was published abroad after Dombrovsky's release and rehabilitation, and there are some theories that its publication resulted in the attack that led to his death in 1978.
---
I've also started Kyrgyz author Chingiz Aitmatov's Kassandramal (German translation of the Russian original; the title means something like "The Mark of Cassandra"). This is a late work by Aitmatov, a science fiction novel that reflects his concern with the negative impact that humans are having on our planet and its lifeforms. It was published in 1994 -- i.e., shortly after the breakup of the Soviet Union -- and explores the premise that a mark begins appearing on the foreheads of pregnant women, indicating that the fetus in her womb does not wish to be born into this world carrying the burden of generations of evildoing. In some way it feels very much a work of the 90s, although in other ways the message is still quite relevant.
However interesting the ideas, though, I think I may have to put the book aside for a year or two or six because I'm finding part of the story rather nauseatingly reminescent of certain current affairs. Rather unexpectedly, the novel is set largely in the US and features a populist and demagogical presidential candidate who whips up the outrage of the masses about the unacceptable interference in American lives by the Russian monk in the space station who has revealed this phenomenon.
So this was NOT the best choice of Aitmatov to read; I have another book of his on my TBR shelf, Der Richtplatz, so I might give that a go instead. Or Galsan Tschinag's Das geraubte Kind. Although like >46 Dilara86: I did want to explore some new authors rather than just reading reliable standbys, I think I may be ready for some comfort reading.
48spiralsheep
Review: I've just finished the excellent 2019 English translation and updating of Sovietistan (originally in Norwegian, 2014), which is Erika Fatland's travelogue through the five ex-Soviet Central Asian 'stans: Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan. The book is written in journalistic style with a minimum of authorial self-insertion and a maximum of description backed up with history (ancient history, the silk road, Islamic cultures, Mongol hordes, local histories, Russian Imperial conquest, and the various Soviet periods). I appreciated the straightforward writing style and prioritisation of fact over opinion but, as with any journalism, each reader has to decide how much they will rely on an individual non-fiction author.
I completed my read on the day the president / dictator of Turkmenistan unveiled a new giant golden statue of his favourite breed of dog (video available on youtube etc) and due to my reading I knew that this isn't even close to being the oddest state-erected sculpture in Turkmenistan.
Fatland has another book including Central Asian countries titled The Border - a Journey Around Russia that is also now available in an English translation.
Personal thoughts: the final chapter of Sovietistan is about Uzbekistan, supposedly one of the most repressive regimes in the world, and gives a horrific example of two citizens tortured to death by the secret police, which reminded me that in 2017 a US citizen, Darren Rainey, was tortured to death in prison in the US in exactly the same way (warning: DON'T google this unless you're sure you want details). The difference between Uzbekistan and the US is that in Uzbekistan the secret police try to cover up their crimes because the state fears repercussions while US police and prison officers openly torture and murder citizens with no fear of any consequences - the US "justice" system claims Darren Rainey's death was an "accident" but there have been multiple similar torture "accidents" with no prison official ever held accountable.
The road to becoming a "failed state" is worryingly short.
I completed my read on the day the president / dictator of Turkmenistan unveiled a new giant golden statue of his favourite breed of dog (video available on youtube etc) and due to my reading I knew that this isn't even close to being the oddest state-erected sculpture in Turkmenistan.
Fatland has another book including Central Asian countries titled The Border - a Journey Around Russia that is also now available in an English translation.
Personal thoughts: the final chapter of Sovietistan is about Uzbekistan, supposedly one of the most repressive regimes in the world, and gives a horrific example of two citizens tortured to death by the secret police, which reminded me that in 2017 a US citizen, Darren Rainey, was tortured to death in prison in the US in exactly the same way (warning: DON'T google this unless you're sure you want details). The difference between Uzbekistan and the US is that in Uzbekistan the secret police try to cover up their crimes because the state fears repercussions while US police and prison officers openly torture and murder citizens with no fear of any consequences - the US "justice" system claims Darren Rainey's death was an "accident" but there have been multiple similar torture "accidents" with no prison official ever held accountable.
The road to becoming a "failed state" is worryingly short.
