Voroshilovgrad, an hallucinatory novel by Ukrainian Serhij Zhadan novelist and poet Serhij Zhadan, was written several years before the Russian invasion of the country. And yet, the book is rife with a feeling of the precariousness of the Ukrainian state in the post-Soviet era. Our protagonist Herman has a steady if somewhat shady job in a large city. But he gets a call from an old friend that his brother has suddenly disappeared, presumably to Amersterdam, urging Herman to come out to his home town and "take care of business" in his brother's absence. The "business" turns out to be a small but profitable gas station on the outskirts of the town, located on Ukraine's eastern steppes, now known as Luhansk but formerly known, during the Soviet Era, as Voroshilovgrad. The station is under seige from mysterious forces who want to force Herman to sell it, perhaps (although exact reasons remain obscure) because there is natural gas to be found in the area. There is barely a character in the story who is not mysterious and rough around the edges. Stories of the past are always blurred by secrets and mythology. The representatives from the federal government who make periodic appearances are more likely to be gangsters than legitimate government officials. Or else they're both. Travels across the empty stretches of this country are always hazardous. The people Herman runs into could be from anywhere, and the sights that pass before his eyes, especially at sundown and after dark, swirl into hallucinations and dreams.

Gradually, though, Herman begins to find a sense of purpose as he gains a sense of comradeship with the old friends he reconnects with, and through the stories they tell him. What he'd thought would be a quick in and out to "take care of business" before returning to his old life becomes a commitment to this off-kilter community. At one point, an old soccer team, on which Herman had been a young player on a team of old veterans, reassembles for a rowdy game against a local rival. Later, Herman comes upon the graves of some of these teammates in the local cemetery. Had he been playing soccer with ghosts? It is central to the essence of the novel that this question is never taken up again. Herman seems to simply shrug the discovery off as irrelevant.

The writing is often laced with multiple metaphors that don't quite work. A metal rod brought down on the hood of a car makes a sound like to tolling of Easter Bells. Spider webs described as floating in the air, as if anchoring a metal fence to the ground. The come, at times, so fast and furious that eventually I could only decide that the effect was purposeful, as if telling us that no impressions can be trusted. Although the metaphors can also be precise: "He was giving me an angry, prickly look, but it was somehow detached from his personality, as though he was wearing anger-tinted contact lenses."

The overall theme of the book to me seemed clearly to be the struggles of these far flung areas of Ukraine to make sense of their post-Soviet existence, already several decades in the past but still casting a difficult shadow over everything. It's obviously no coincidence that the book's title harkens back to the town's Soviet name. And then there is this seeming (from our current remove and perspective) foreshadowing of events to come:

"It was obvious what Ernst was thinking. Ernst was thinking, 'Something bad is going to happen, something real bad is definitely going to happen. For now, nobody can really tell--they all think that the worst is behind us and that the storm has passed. But that's not true at all.' Ernst was very famlliar with the feeling, with the sense of impending danger. It was coming, all right, and there was no0 way to avoid it. They'd have to run this gauntlet one way or another. There would be no way to sped the process up of avoid it altogether. All you could do was look the ominous beast in the eye and wait. Its terrible snout would sniff you for a while, then it'd just walk away, leaving fear an stench behind. Ernst almost immediately had a flashback to when he once felt the rotten breath of brewing trouble. He recalled that trapped feeling that filled his lungs, he recalled that seep-seated fear that encroaches upon new territory like swollen rivers in March. . . . "

Often, reading this novel is like stepping through thin ice and falling into a dream. But the sense of time and place is solid, and the current of hope and compassion carried me along. Highly recommended. ( )

If Voroshilovgrad is well written (which it is), provides fascinating insights into Ukraine (which it does), and supplies appealing characters (which it did), why did I find myself more detached and disappointed as my reading progressed?

First, it seemed there were annoying minor inconsistencies in the text. As this could possibly be attributed to translation issues, I wasn't overly concerned. A much larger and consistent concern related to plot and structure. Many incidents seemed to be clumsily introduced with only minor connection to the overall plot. At times, it seemed the author just had some interesting anecdotes/scenes that he wanted to get in simply because they were interesting anecdotes/scenes. They were, but stringing a number of those in a row started to feel like a loosely connected collection of short stories.

Another minor annoyance were the sexual situations which often seemed artificial and contributed little if anything to plot or character development. Speaking of character development, it seemed some characters were introduced, explored, and then largely forgotten.

I know its pretentious and ubiquitous for me to say the book needed editing. But, I believe it could have been a much more impressive work with some editorial assistance. Zhadan obviously has enormous talent and has had fascinating life experiences. Moreover, his cultural observations are much needed in the West.

Definitely worth reading but not a polished piece of fiction. ( )

3.7 stars. Voroshilovgrad is a dreamily brutal and brutally dreamy novel about a youngish Ukrainian man who returns to his native places after his brother, owner of a service station, disappears. This trippy novel is both bizarre and lovely, with a combination of all sorts of odd elements, from a reference to the yellow brick road to finding shelter in the Lenin room of a children's camp during a rain storm.

(There's more on my blog, here.) ( )

In trying to save his brother's business (a gas station) Herman encounters thugs, gypsies, refugees, smugglers, ghosts, and various kinds of fanatics.Life is not easy in post-USSR Ukraine. ( )