Buddha's Little Finger

Is existence an illusion in which we are ensnared until enlightenment allows us to see through the sham and escape? Can we transcend this dream of frustration, strife, and cruelty called life? And what about consciousness? Does it extend beyond the little region of time and space where we act out our roles? Buddha's Little Finger is a work that breathes drama into these esoteric musings. The main character is an apolitical, daring, poet/soldier-of-fortune nominally fighting for the Red army in revolutionary Russia. Strangely enough he is also a mental patient in the post-Soviet era who has not been able to adapt to the "new Russia". His doctor has been trying,evidently for some time, to supplant his mystical, poetic nature with one more harmonious to the materialism of society. The hero's consciousness oscillates between these two worlds,each seeming real when he is present; and the other a dream. Other more minor themes, such as the intrusion of foreign value systems into Russian culture enter into the narrative, but ultimately everything depicted in the novel more or less contributes to the main metaphysical proposition, which I would say is "Can I become the potter as well as the clay?" Images of gritty realism juxtaposed to phantasmagorical supernatural scenes propel the development of this story along toward the attainment of a peak experience by the hero, helped along by his commander/guru. I thought the novel concluded in a very satisfying manner, given the material it was built upon. A good thing in my opinion, for who wants to conclude a fantasy with a let-down? This book may even entice you to believe for a little while that there are cracks in the system of the world through which you might escape(assuming you've ever wanted to). I believe the philosophical aspects of this work earn it more serious regard than as just an interesting fantasy; but in this case serious regard does not equate with dull-no way!

For Russian speakers:Definitely read this book (in Russian, obviously) if you liked Kafka. Read it if you ever felt curious about drugs. (This book should be classified as a "Schedule A" substance. :) Stay away from it if you like books that make sense.For English speakers:It's a great book, however, Pelevin _packs_ his books with cultural references - more so than any other widely translated Russian author. So, if you haven't lived in Russia, many things won't make sense. (But then, many things wouldn't make sense either way.) I suggest that you read carefully reviews by non-Russians (look for reviewers whose last names don't end in "v" :) and decide based on this.

Well, perhaps it's a tie between this book and Pelevin's latest, "Generation P" (not yet translated from Russian)."Buddha's Little Finger" is an amazing story, but it demands high mental agility from the reader. Can you visualize the pseudodecadent scene of St. Petersburg in the 1910s-1920s? How about "Inner Mongolia" - a place that is not at all "inner", nor a place, nor Mongolia? Or the Fugue in F Minor by Mozart that was also a staircase?And most importantly: can you read a whole chapter of incessant Russian slang and not "obaldet v nature"? :-)DJA ([email protected])

Indeed - naff title for the re-issue. In England it's still published as "The Clay Machine Gun".But whatever you call it it's a masterpiece. Daniil Kharms and Mikhail Bulgakov brought up to the post-soviet age. The episodic nature of the narrative almost makes it a loosely woven thread of short stories but the themes of existence vs illusion tie everything together beautifully. Respect to Andrew Bromfield who has done another marvelous job - I only hope he never tires of translating Pelevin's work.