Olga Grushin

It had appeared in the fall, but unlike other local kiosks, which, regularly and with no secrecy, dispensed cheap cigarettes and vegetables or, on thrilling and brief occasions chocolates and cosmetics, this kiosk had never sold anything at all, not even on those rare days when a fake blonde with a pasty face made surly appearances in the kiosk window. The woman would answer no questions, thereby deepening the general suspicion of some momentous mystery. As weeks went by, speculation and show more agitation only mounted. Rumors had spread...And the more Anna heard, the more filled she was with a sure presentiment of a change, whether small or boundless she did not know—but in any case, something, she thought, to make her and her family happier, or lend some simple beauty to her everyday life, or perhaps even infuse her entire existence, working into its minute cracks and voids, knitting it into a tighter, brighter, fuller fabric.

To borrow from Seinfeld, which claimed to be a show about nothing, this is a book seemingly about nothing. It's about a year in the life of a family—a year they spent waiting in line, at first for an unknown but imagined treat that turned out to be a ticket to a concert by a dissident composer whose music hasn't been heard for decades in the country of his birth. As the wait stretches into days, weeks, months, and seasons, nothing much changes at home where Anna, Sergei, and their son, Alexander, barely speak to each other or to Anna's mother, who lives with them. Yet in the year that their lives revolve around holding their place in line, they are each changed gradually by their experience of waiting and by the relationships they form with the strangers/neighbors who wait in the line with them.

If you crave fiction filled with action, this book probably isn't for you. If you like slower paced novels that develop slowly, give this one a try. It will be time well spent. show less

Anatoly Sukhanov is a Soviet apparatchik, editor of Moscow's Art of the World magazine and author of such Party-approved works as "Surrealism and other Western "Isms" as Manifestations of Capitalist Insolvency". As the novel begins, in a Soviet Union shortly after the ascension of Gorbachev, he is simply another soulless Soviet official ready to be mocked and condemned by another Russian novelist. As the novel unfolds, however, that is not what happens. As glasnost begins to thaw the show more political environment around him, Sukhanov's past, which he has long frozen out of his consciousness, also thaws and bubbles up first through his dreams, then takes over his waking life as he suffers what appears to be a nervous breakdown.

Grushin's novel ultimately raises interesting questions. In a totalitarian society, is it more admirable to stay true to yourself, or to do what you must to provide for those you love? If it is admirable to risk severe hardship for your ideals, does that remain the case when your family shares your fate with you? And what cost can those choices exact?

A very good book, especially if you have an interest in art and Russia. show less

What an absolute treat... Even though, I would say, it's one of the saddest things I have ever read. The sadness is palpable throughout the novel. The grayness of life. The quiet desperation, maddening, but helpless. The constant mental struggle, in the face of the regime that suffocates any true talent - even with the seemingly optimistic denouement for the protagonist family. Grayness to which I can relate, having lived in that world...

And yet - a treat it is! It reads like a lyrical show more poem, melancholic, but with such exquisite turns of phrase - I couldn't help but noting them down, some are pure gems... The historical event on which it's based is also important. It didn't take long to decipher Stravinsky in "Selinsky"; the historical fiction part of it is touching - the old lady (a ballet dancer in her youth, and all that it entailed for her, all the consequences, the choices one makes in life...) is a character that appealed to me the most. And last but not least - the title, The Line ("...the orderly commas of bent backs marking the sidewalk in a depressingly long sentence..." - one of those gems I was talking about...) - what a significant title, in actual AND metaphorical sense. You have to have lived there to fully understand. show less

Olga Grushin is my newest favorite author. Although she has only written two books, The Dream Life of Sukhanov and The Line, they are both are so superb that I am convinced that anything she writes will be good.

Anatoly Sukhanov is a successful art magazine editor with a beautiful wife, an ambitious son, and a rebellious teenage daughter. At fifty-six, Anatoly has mastered the ability of writing about art without ruffling Soviet ministerial feathers: which topics to avoid, which names to show more redact, and whose opinion to follow. The key is not to think too much and definitely avoid remembering a different time, when he had different dreams, during the heady days of the Khrushchev Thaw. But overnight Sukhanov’s world is turned upside down. An uncomfortable meeting with an former friend, colleagues who talk about a new freedom to express themselves, and cracks within the comfortable routine of his home life, all come together to shake Sukhanov’s vow not to remember the past. Memories begin to leak into his mind until they become a torrent, and he finally has to face a decision he made many years before and its repercussions.

Grushin’s prose has a dream-like quality that perfectly suits the mood of the novel. Although the descriptions and phrasing seem a bit forced in the beginning (a first-time author trying too hard?), Grushin finds her voice, resulting in beautifully constructed images and descriptions. Equally impressive is how she is able to portray the life of an ordinary, long-time Soviet official suddenly faced with glasnost. Although too young to have experienced it herself, she was born in Moscow in 1971, Grushin is able to authentically portray the internal confusion of a man who made difficult choices in order to survive repressive regimes and is now faced with an openness that seemingly condemns those choices. It is a situation millions of Russians faced in the late 1980s, and the consequences of that internal dislocation have contributed to the backlash against free market democracy and the rise of a modern repressive state. Grushin does a nice job of creating a character that is fascinating on his own and yet representative of an entire generation.

Highly recommended. show less