Yuri Druzhnikov is most well known for his novel Angels on the Head of a Pin (2003), which was included on the University of Warsaw’s list of the top ten Russian novels of the twentieth century. Though six of his books have been translated in English, he has not received as much critical attention as other contemporary writers such as Victor Pelevin and Vladimir Sorokin. Pushkin’s Second Wife and Other Micronovels (2007) is Druzhnikov’s collection of ten “micronovels,” a term which Druzhnikov explains in the postcript, stating that “in the twenty-first century this new genre has acquired legitimacy, filling a niche for a genre in which large-novel ideas accumulate energy in the space of a mere thirty pages.”
In this collection, Druzhnikov explores the psyche of Russians before and after the collapse of communism, using Russia’s political situation as a background for the broader exploration of the influence of daily challenges and struggles on the human mind.
The first micronovel of the collection, “Pushkin’s Second Wife,” explores the life of Diana, a museum tour guide:
Diana was in love with Pushkin, selflessly . . . She was absolutely certain that Pushkin belonged to her personally and she to him as well, of course. Her love for him and devotion to him brought energy to her life and gave her happiness of always being with him—day and night. But here in the real world she stepped into her communal flat, unlocked the door to her room and was all alone.
Diana, who feels disconnected from everyone around her, begs an artist to cut her life-sized Pushkin out of a piece of plywood. When Pushkin comes home with Diana, she treats him like a lover, imagining entire conversations and interactions with him. She finds comfort in this wooden figure who feels more real to her than anyone else in her life. Her solace, though, is constantly disrupted by people mocking and ridiculing her, which reminds her of the emptiness and inadequacy of her daily life.
This “micronovel” was impressive in its exploration of the human need to fantasize and imagine a different life, especially when the world around them is chaotic and unforgiving, yet the repetitive nature of the story was slightly disappointing. Druzhnikov’s lengthy descriptions of Diana’s devotion to Pushkin are rather excessive and unnecessary at times, which is ironic considering this is a “micro” novel. (A 100-page “micronovel,” but nevertheless.)
His shorter “micronovels” are much more poignant and compelling, especially when Druzhnikov weaves stream-of-consciousness passages into his writing. The shorter stories are very diverse in their subject matter. In “The Man Who Read Me First,” a middle-aged man meets the wife of his former boss, a censor at a Russian newspaper, and is forced to revisit his complicated relationship with a man whose job was to restrict his ideas. In “The Death of Tsar Fyodor,” an elderly actor who is extremely attached to his job in the theater has an identity crisis when the theater director begins to faze him out of the company. In “Money Goes Around,” a cab driver brings his daughter Masha to work. As they drive people around, a cynical discussion about money ensues, and Masha’s curiosity and interest in the power of money in the world is set against her dad’s criticism of the process of monetary circulation. The balance of description and dialogue makes this one of the strongest works in the collection.
Druzhnikov lets the conversations among the characters speak for themselves, forcing readers to think about their meaning without tying them up into general, tidy conclusions. However, on a larger scale, these works are, at least in part, used to expose the failures of the Soviet Union, and Druzhnikov’s writing can feel propaganda-esque at times. Though it may be difficult to move past this weakness of the work, it is also important to recognize its strengths: Druzhnikov’s skillfully explore the ways in which individuals continue to cope in the midst of confussion, oppression, and corruption, and the ways in which interpersonal relationships change and develop in the midst of national chaos. Aside from the utilitarian feel that sometimes surrounds these “micronovels,” this is a thoughtful and interesting work that is worth a read.
Reading a genre book—whether fantasy, science fiction, crime, thriller, etc.—which begins to seem excessively, stereotypically bad, I have to make sure to ask myself: is this parodying the flaws of the genre? Usually, this questioning takes its time coming. In. . .
The Sicilian Mafia has always been a rich subject for sensational crime fiction. The Godfather, Goodfellas, and The Sopranos worked the mob’s bloody corpses and family feuds to both entertainment and artistic value. Giuseppe di Piazza’s debut novel attempts this,. . .
Antoine Volodine’s vast project (40 plus novels) of what he calls the post-exotic remains mostly untranslated, so for many of us, understanding it remains touched with mystery, whispers from those “who know,” and guesswork. That’s not to say that, were. . .
It hasn’t quite neared the pitch of the waiting-in-line-at-midnight Harry Potter days, but in small bookstores and reading circles of New York City, an aura has attended the novelist Elena Ferrante and her works. One part curiosity (Who is she?),. . .
From the late 1940s to the early 1950s, Egypt was going through a period of transition. The country’s people were growing unhappy with the corruption of power in the government, which had been under British rule for decades. The Egyptians’. . .
Miruna is a novella written in the voice of an adult who remembers the summer he (then, seven) and his sister, Miruna (then, six) spent in the Evil Vale with their grandfather (sometimes referred to as “Grandfather,” other times as. . .
Kamal Jann by the Lebanese born author Dominique Eddé is a tale of familial and political intrigue, a murky stew of byzantine alliances, betrayals, and hostilities. It is a well-told story of revenge and, what’s more, a serious novel that. . .