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Our Assessment:
A- : what seems like an odd mix of narratives works together to surprisingly powerful effect See our review for fuller assessment.
From the Reviews: - Return to top of the page - The complete review's Review:
Maidenhair seems like an unusual novel, first offering one thing then another, and certainly not offering some story with a nice arc from beginning to end.
The protagonist is known only as 'the interpreter'.
He lives in Switzerland and is employed as a translator for Russian-speaking asylum-seekers (and the occasional prisoner) when they deal with the authorities.
Years earlier, when he was still living in Russia (where he was 'the teacher'), he had been hired by a publisher to write the biography of long-lived singer Bella Dmitrievna, born in Czarist Russia and surviving well past the downfall of the Soviet empire; the project collapsed, but long excerpts from her reminiscences and diaries -- the raw material he was to use -- are included in the novel.
There are also the letters he writes to his son, whom he calls his Nebuchadnezzasaurus, as well as some episodes from his own life.
It's about clarifying circumstances. In order to keep them out of paradise, we have to ferret out what really happened. But how can you of people become the stories they tell ? You just can't. That means it's all very simple. Since you can't clarify the truth, you at least need to clarify the lie.The stories Peter and the interpreter hear are often horrible -- yet clearly, too, the asylum-seekers are manipulating the facts or in some cases even simply inventing stories which they know will make their applications more likely to be accepted. Doubting Peter has seen most of the tricks, and sees through most of these -- but Shishkin presents these encounters largely simply in Q & A form, with little embellishment or interpretation: the stories as given. Early on an asylum seeker explains: Those speaking may be fictitious, but what they say is real. Truth lies only in where it is concealed. Fine, the people aren't real but the stories, oh the stories are ! [...] What difference does it make who it happened to ? It's always a sure thing. The people here are irrelevant. It's the stories that can be authentic or not. You just need to tell an authentic story. Just the way it happened. And not invent anything. We are what we say. A freshly planned destiny is packed with people no one needs, like an ark; all the rest is the floodgates of heaven. We become what is written in the transcript. The words.Indeed, the focus is on the stories -- and so, for example, the interpreter also has little sense of what become of these people after their interviews, regardless of the outcome: the people are reduced to these brief life-summaries that they have tailored for themselves (for this specific purpose). Maidenhair presents this array of life-stories, that range from appropriated ones to the ones people fashion for themselves out of their own facts. The interpreter is desperate for stories: he constantly whinges in his letters to his son that he hears so little from him -- i.e. complains that he doesn't have the son's own narrative, allowing him to form a better picture of the distant boy. Foolishly, too, he would occasionally look into his wife's diary -- and find there the alternative narratives she toyed with, as she clearly never entirely got over the loss of her first love in a tragic accident. Aside from Bella's diaries and reminiscences, the interpreter also retreats into historical accounts -- adapting them to his own reality: stories from Xenophon, Tristan and Isolde, Daphnis and Chloe (which comes up in one of the interrogations), and the like. The interpreter meets a former teacher while in Rome, and she complains to him: You're mixing everything up ! You've always mixed everything up ! You're a bungler.Maidenhair displays that confusion -- yet the bungling is as revealing as any ostensible clarity. Bella wonders in her reminiscences, looking far, far back: But why do I remember it ? Who needs to know about a nonexistent number in a nonexistent cloakroom ? After all, no one is going to hang my coat, the hand-me-down from my sisters, on that hook. And never again in winter after classes will I go down to the cloakroom and pull on the detested thick trousers under my school dress and tie my hood before setting off for home. My home doesn't even exist. Nothing I once had now exists. No one and nothing.Shishkin is fascinated by the concept of the narratives we create for ourselves, whether entirely imagined, or based on what we think is memory and fact. Yet he doesn't ram that idea down readers' throats; he merely offers it here, in many variations, but also allows the stories themselves to be spun out. It makes for an unusual novel -- unusual in the sense that it is unlike what one has encountered before, and unlike what one has come to expect. It expands, in a small but significant way, our understanding of what the novel can be and do -- quite a remarkable achievement. A big, odd novel, well worth experiencing. Note that the German edition of Maidenhair comes with nearly two-hundred endnotes, while the English version offers little more than footnotes that translate phrases and the like that are in other languages (although one also finds the odd lone explanatory footnote 20: "A reference to Gogol's 'Diary of a Madman'") -- and additional foot- or endnotes might have been helpful with regards to some (or many ...) of the references. (Oddly, too, for all the translated German, Latin, French, and Italian names and exchanges, the shout: "Eloi ! Eloi ! Lama sabachthani ?" at the book's closing remains unfootnoted or translated; is that really such a given ?) - M.A.Orthofer, 18 November 2012 - Return to top of the page - Maidenhair:
- Return to top of the page - Russian author Mikhail Shishkin (Михаил Шишкин; Mikhaïl Chichkine; Michail Schischkin) was born in 1961. - Return to top of the page -
© 2012-2021 the complete review
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