The Slynx

Published a mere 6 years ago, Tatyana Tolstaya's The Slynx has already been dubbed a 'classic' by the New York Review of Books; perhaps with good reason since the book, a dystopian Russian fable depicting peasant life post nuclear blast, seems timeless in its political and social themes. Tolstaya, great grandniece of Leo Tolstoy and a frequent contributor to the NYRB, sets a darkly comic tone in this her first novel. As the author paints vividly on a bleak canvas, what appears is a horrifying, reconstituted world. The main character, comrade (Golubchik) Benedikt works for Fyodor Kuzmich Glorybe, the head feudal lord ("The Greatest Murza"), as a scribe copying out classic literature and poetry, which Kuzmich claims as his own. On his free time, he catches mice for dinner and tries to meet women, preferably ones with few consequences (as a result of the great "Blast" most citizens live with "consequences" like Varvara "with one eye, not a hair on her head and coxcombs growing all over it"). The Golubchiks live in huts called "izbas" and dine on "worrums" as well as the ubiquitous mice, which also serve as tender. There are the Degenerators, half-human half-canine, who are enslaved and used to transport Golubchiks via troika. The Saniturions are a sort of KGB, sniffing out and obliterating any hint of "freethinking". Then there are the "Oldeners": humans who have survived the great blast and are somehow now immune to natural death. Most Oldeners have been around for 200 years or more and feel great disdain for the feudal Murzas. The fearsome Slynx of the title lies outside the boundaries of Fyodor-Kuzmichsk (formerly Moscow). It's the fear of moving on, expanding, change, and discovering just what does exist at the nether regions of the "flat pancake of the earth"; the serpentine Slynx is the fear of knowledge and it devours all that dare trespass on its turf. As Benedikt discovers and becomes obsessed with books, which are forbidden as sources of freethinking by the Greatest Murza, he leaves himself vulnerable to the rebellious machinations of his newly acquired father-in-law. Benedikt finds himself on a quest for the ultimate book, the book of the great "White Bird", that will reveal to him the correct way to live his life. Here, the meat of Tolstaya's cautionary tale emulsifies like a big bowl of mouse stew. By the end of the novel she auspiciously delivers her final ironic caveat: Those who study history are doomed to repeat it. The Slynx is by turns wry and laugh out loud funny; it evokes at once hopelessness in its pathos and sincere hope through its humanism (as evidenced in the oldeners). I recommend this book to any curious reader. 4 stars

The review from Publishers Weekly is wrong saying that the world described in The Slynx is the world of permanent winter. The reviewer obviously have not read the book. The book is a masterpiece of Russian language. I suppose it is equally hard to translate to English as to translate Shakespeare from English. Tolstaya's language is not a simple Russian, it is a colorful, rich literature language. Note that the book is written as if on behalf of Benedikt. And Tolstaya in a masterly fashion gives the prose a rural and still noble shade of Russia primordial. It's really enjoying.

"The Slynx", the debut novel by Tatyana Tolstaya, the granddaughter of the Russian writer Alexey Tolstoy, is worth reading. There are many reasons to recommend this book. The first and perhaps most important one is the language - funny, full of neologisms and contrasts, bursting with life; the novel is an excellent satire on the contemporary changes in the language, its simplifications and slang. The second is the atmosphere, as if taken from a painting of a primitivist. The third are its deep roots in Russia, its history and nature, the Russian soul and destiny. Although obviously possible to classify as a dystopia, "The Slynx" cannot really be compared to any other dystopian novels (I cannot see any resemblance to Atwood's "The Handmaid's Tale, except that it is also a dystopia, which is not too much of a similarity), except the other contemporary Russian ones (it seems like the Russian writers have only futuristic visions nowadays) - and from those I have read, I enjoyed "The Slynx" the most. The other association I had was with "The Clockwork Orange", mainly because of the linguistic stylization. The action takes place in some settlement consisting of bigger and smaller wooden huts (later we learn that it is placed on where Moscow used to be), sometime in the future, after the undefined explosion. The inhabitants are superstitious (their beliefs are wonderfully re-told old Russian folk tales; the novel is full of literary references, to the tales as well as to poetry and prose, which are delightful for the reader), they make all tools of wood, they eat mice and are scared of the slynx, an unseen, mythical creature from the forest, and of the Chechens from the South. They suffer from various mutations, or so-called "Effects" of the explosion. They never read, only praise and fear Fyodor Kuzmich, the absolute ruler, never ask questions and try, like animals, to find their place in the world of poisonous rabbits and other post-explosion deviations. The main protagonist, Benedikt, although raised among the same people and unable to really get out of his environment, has a lot of doubts, sometimes asks inconvenient questions, and reads all the books he can lay his hands on (it does not make him any wiser though, as he falls in love and marries into a rich family, which numbs him almost irreversibly). The society is surprisingly similar to the Russian society (as it is now and as it was throughout the centuries) - there is a grey mass of poor, common people and the few unscrupulous rich, there is also a special degenerated group of people from Old Times, who are used instead of horses to pull sledges (I had a most strange association with taxi drivers at this point) and, finally, The Oldeners, people who survived the Explosion and their Effect is mainly a very long lifespan. The Oldeners long for the old days (who could blame them?), keep secret libraries of forbidden books and try to preserve the old culture, which has deteriorated (their dialog

I would reccomend reading some of Russian history (around the time period when Stalin was president) otherwise it would be difficult to understand some parts and what Tolstaya is talking about. I read this book in Russian and English, and of course the english translation is not nearly as good as the original Russian. However, the story is still amazing, and I love how she uses irony, and makes fun of certain concepts-it's sad, but funny at the same time!

Take three parts Pasternak's Doctor Zhivago, two parts Miller's A Canticle for Leibowitz, one part Eco's The Name of the Rose, add a pinch of Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale (for that oh so subtle sci-fi flavor), mix vigorously, serve while sitting next to a nice warm fire cause it's gonna be a long night of pure enjoyment.