Monday Starts on Saturday

First published in 1965, Monday Starts on Sunday has an unusual feel. Written by a pair of Russian brothers, it applies elements of folklore and fantasy to social commentary on institutions and politics, with a solid dollop of humor on top. I was drawn to it for the above reasons, along with the comparison to Zelazny, and found it enjoyable, as long as I was in the exact right reading mood.

This is not one of those books that can cajole me into enjoying regardless of attention and mood. No doubt, some of this is due to cultural and temporal barriers--here I am, a female American, reading this almost 55 years later--but much is owed to the actual whole of the stories themselves. There's the barest of characterizations--though I think we show more are likely to sympathize with the 'straight' man narrator who is recruited into the craziness--but that's really beside the point, because some of the people exist to present ridiculous situations. This can work--think of oft-compared work, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy--

--boy, am I ever interrupting myself today. Excuse me while I drink more coffee--but what ended up killing it for me was that the situations were interrupted by somewhat didactic narrative about what was happening. Essentially, tone down the absurdity of Hitchhikers, fail to apply even its loosest semblance of plotting, and then interpret said absurd situations for the reader.

All this is to explain why it took me a ridiculous amount of time (by my own standard) to read it, having started and re-started in fits. All that said, once I found my reading groove, it was amusing in spots, and Strugatsky's commentary does seem on point.

Structurally, it's really three novellas, loosely linked. The first includes a number of folklore references, so if you have read fairly-standard Russian folklore, it's particularly fun. The second is more research institution commentary, and while it is occasionally biting, it's also a bit fond as well. The whole reason Monday starts on Saturday, you see, is because these people love what they do.

I can appreciate that, and I can also appreciate some of the institutional and political commentary, if only there wasn't so much of it. The man from the first story is now a member of the Institute, and is charged with maintaining order on the eve of the new year, when everyone should be out celebrating. Only as he makes his rounds, people keep trickling back in. They end up watching the research of the Happiness Department as his latest project is decanted: the Happiest Man, who is non-coincidentally, a literal consumer. It's obvious to everyone that the researcher is a bit of an ass and the experiment will be a disaster, but like a Saturday Night Live skit gone on for ten minutes instead of three, it turns into variations on a theme.

I never got past this story because I kept falling asleep. I felt like I had to restart to get the rhythm of the text and the story, but then would get sleepier and sleepier. It didn't help that there were a number of extremely chaotic happenings in my personal life during the time I had the book checked out. I kept hoping for a more opportune time, but instead Life kept throwing up challenges. I finally surrendered, and paid my library fine.

Honestly, I don't know that I can recommend it to most readers. Because it is so much about the subtext, the actual plotting didn't seem to be enough to drive the story. It would help a great deal if one was familiar with socioeconomic theories as well as the general political state of the major world powers prior to 1965 to appreciate the subtext. And clearly, knowledge of Russian culture and history would be particularly helpful. None of these are needed, persay, but I think all of these are probably what makes it a more standout text, much in the same way [b:Doorways in the Sand|61998|Doorways in the Sand|Roger Zelazny|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327915592l/61998._SY75_.jpg|759315] pulls in so many references beyond the simple (but bananas!) plot. show less

What if Terry Pratchet had been born in Soviet Russia instead of Englad?
What if the company from Office Space researched magic?
What if Terry Gilliam intentionally set out to design academia cum government agency in charge of magic then filmed it?
Any of those could be the elevator pitch for Monday Start On Saturday. As is par for the course with the Strugatsky's, we have some brilliant criticism of the Soviet system deftly embedded in fantastical settings and storytelling to help them get by. We experience the inept silliness of the government agency in charge of magical research through a programmer and mathematician everyman. A lot of the fun is built around references to and easter eggs of a wide variety of folk/fairy tale characters show more as well as some literary characters. Unfortunately, while I recognized the vast majority, I think a few references to russian or slavic folktales went a bit over my head. Rather than a novel, this is really a set of vignettes, presented as both 'chapters' and 'stories' of various goings on at the Institute. As such, it does feel a little incomplete and meandering. It also lacks the overall punch that the tighter narrative of Roadside Picnic possessed. show less

Weird... wonderfully weird. This book feels like what Douglas Adams or Terry Pratchett might have written if they had been born in 1950's era Soviet Russia. Except they weren't, Boris and Arkady Strugasky were though and thank Merlin that they were.
The book almost reads as a screed against academic bureaucratic culture. It certainly takes any number of shots at wasteful research and aimless areas of study by placing the academy in an institute of magic research. What I think it is actually about though is the lack of understanding that the average person (citizen/comrade) about the weird current state of our science and technology. What was it that Asimov said about sufficiently advanced technology looking magical to less advanced show more cultures? I don't recall the quote exactly but this book looks at that meme with a razor sharp satire.
This book was written in the 60's - as I already mentioned in Soviet Russia. However, the topics it covers in a very silly and fun romp, still ring true to someone in the 21st century. Maybe even more true today as our technology and scientific understanding grows exponentially and our culture devolves into a band of horse pill swallowing, ignoramus following, parrots who want desperately to believe in anything except our own reality.
If that does not inspire a desire read this book I don't know what else I can say to convince you. show less

Von den Strugatzki-Brüdern hatte ich bisher nur Picknick am Wegesrand gelesen. Der Montag fängt am Samstag an erschien erstmals 1965 und zählt zu den Klassikern der Russischen Fantastik.

Ich muss gestehen, dass ich nicht wusste, was mich eigentlich erwartet. Wenn ich den Roman rückblickend vergleichen müsste, so würde ich ihn bei den Werken von Douglas Adams und Terry Pratchett einordnen, nur eben extrem russisch.

Wir folgen dem jungen Programmierer Alexander Pawlowitsch Priwalow, der kurz Sascha genannt wird durch die skurrile Welt in Solowetz. Dabei begegnen wir nicht nur russischen Märchenfiguren sondern auch so allerlei anderen schrägen Wissenschaftlern, die in noch schrägeren Forschungsgebieten arbeiten. Die Strugatzkis show more nehmen dabei ganz extrem die sowjetische Bürokratie auf die Schippe, was mit ein Grund war, warum einige Teile des Buches in der Sowjetunion stark zensiert waren.

Das Buch zu lesen ist ein Hochgenuss, allerdings ein sehr, sehr anspruchsvoller. Der Wortwitz und die Seitenhiebe sind schon beeindruckend, erschließen sich dem/-r Leser/in aber wohl erst so richtig, wenn man sich etwas intensiver mit den Hintergründen auseinandergesetzt hat.

Dabei helfen anfänglich die Anmerkungen am Ende des Buches schon sehr. Als Kind bin ich in der DDR aufgewachsen. 1997 habe ich ein Russisch-Englisch-Abitur gemacht und erst jetzt stelle ich fest, wie schade ich es finde, dass meine Russischkenntnisse nur noch rudimentär vorhanden sind. Ich denke, ich werde mich damit mal wieder ausführlicher befassen müssen, denn der Roman ist ein wahrer Genuss und muss im Original noch sehr viel besser sein.

Fazit:
Der Montag fängt am Samstag an ist definitiv keine leichte Lektüre, die man mal so eben an einem Wochenende weg liest. Ein besseres Verständnis der damals zu Sowjetzeiten herrschenden Bürokratie sowie Grundkenntnisse der russischen Literatur und Märchenwelt können absolut hilfreich sein. Wer thematisch die Skurrilität von Pratchett und Adams zu schätzen weiß, wird bei diesem Buch auch Spaß haben. Ich habe dieses Buch wirklich genossen und definitiv nicht zum letzten Mal gelesen. Ich freue mich bereits auf einen Re-Read. show less

Many people outside Russia are familiar with Stalker, Andrei Tarkovsky's 1979 film loosely based on the novel Roadside Picnic by Boris and Arkady Strugatsky. But, let me tell you comrades, the brothers Strugatsky's Monday Starts on Saturday is one of the most imaginative, off-the-wall hilarious novels ever written, a work that should be better known than it is.

Science fiction held a special place within the Soviet Union back in 1964 when this novel was first published, with issues revolving around censorship and maintaining the party line. If writers wanted to express their personal creativity or share independent ideas rather than serve the cause of communism and the state, they stood a better chance of having their books see the light show more of day if they wrote about future, distant worlds and impossible happenings and events - in other words, if they wrote science fiction.

And we find just such a distant, impossible world in Monday Starts on Saturday. It all begins when young computer programmer Alexander Ivanovich Privalov from Leningrad, headed north to meet up with some friends, picks up two hitchhikers who convince him to drive to their destination to spend the night. As Alexander Ivanovich quickly discovers upon arrival where there's a sign reading: "N I T W I T - The Log Hut on Chicken Legs," he has crossed over into a universe where magic, myth and mayhem intersect with science and technology, a universe where, among many other extraordinary occurrences, a talking pike pops out of the water and the mirror in his room refuses to reflect his image. Alexander Ivanovich must admit, all of what he encounters "seemed to me even more interesting than modelling a reflex arc." Thus our computer programmer stays on for much longer than one night.

Working within such a preposterous literary canvas, the Strugatsky brothers throw every conceivable objects and animal and plant, not to mention gentlemanly ghost, mad researcher and buffoonish bureaucrat at programmer Alexander and, indirectly, at the reader. Powerful images and ideas are all tangled together - I can imagine Soviet men and women pouring over this novel in private gatherings, relishing every glorious sentence, coming up with associations galore taken from history and current events as well as their own knowledge of fairy tales, myths and legions.

To share a taste of the treats a reader is in store for, I've included my own comments linked to a mere handful of the hundreds of bizarre happenings generously served up in the novel's 240 pages:

Modern Soviet State's Fairy Tale Grandma: Alexander is greeted by old Nina Kievna, the prototypical ancient granny from fairy tales and folk legions; she's well over 100-years-old and wears not only the predictable black shawl knotted under her chin but "her head was covered by a cheerful nylon scarf with brightly colored pictures of the Atomium and an inscription in several languages: 'Brussels International Exhibition.'

What a scream, comrades! The traditional forms of magic usually associated with the fairy tale grandma, such things as magic pebbles or golden apples, are replaced by a symbol of the "rational" magic of physics and chemistry -as tall as a 33-story building, the Atomium (pictured below) is built of stainless steel in the shape of a unit cell of an iron crystal magnified 165 billion times - and not only does each sphere contain an exhibition hall connected by escalators but there's a restaurant on the top sphere. Whoa! An undeniable feat of engineering and scientific know-how amounting to nothing less than the magic of the modern world.

The crossover between sorcery, wizardry and magic on the one hand and modern science, technology and engineering on the other is a key theme running throughout the entire tale. In many important ways, particularly in the general public's eye, scientists and technicians have taken the place of wizards.

Computer Programmer's Dreamscape: Alexander's very first night at N I T W I T proves memorable: he moves his pillow and sheets from the floor to a couch (a magical couch, as it turns out) and is woken out of his sleep in the middle of the night by voices. He tries to go back to sleep but realizes he's hungry not sleepy. The programmer gets up and picks up a book from the windowsill - Alexei Tolstoy's Overcast Morning. He flips to a random page and reads of a character opening cans of pineapple. Then a pungent smell of food fills the room - granny Nina Kievna enters and serves him a plateful of delicious hot potatoes smeared with butter.

Thereafter Alexander lies down once again and this time hears a quiet voice speak of an elephant in scientific terms then references to Carl Jung and the Upanishads. This is followed by Vasily the cat under the oak tree outside walking like university professor Dubino-Knyazhitsky giving a lecture, referencing, among other topics, a vile monster and a snow-white swan. Meanwhile, the book by Alexei Tolstoy transforms into other works by other authors. When Alexander peers out the window again he observes a wet, silver-green shark's tail hanging from the lowest branch of the oak tree. Equally astonishing (perhaps the influence of the couch?), our computer programmer takes it all in stride.

Law and Order: The following day Alexander is in the town square and is surprised to find the five kopecks in his pocket mysteriously reappearing after he hands over his coins to a merchant. According to a young lieutenant on duty at the time such behavior is completely unacceptable. The programmer is interrogated and the lieutenant informs him that he will have to draw up a report.

Alexander reflects: "What is the essential point here? The essential thing is whether or not a person thinks of himself as guilty." Readers back when Russia was the Soviet Union must have hooted when reading this brothers Straugatsky scene. During those Soviet years, millions of honest men and women were sent off to forced labor camps for trifles. To judge oneself as guilty was nothing short of laughable.

Wizards Go Bonkers: Turns out, N I T W I T stands for National Institute for the Technology of Witchcraft and Thaumaturgy. Alexander enters the main building and is put to work in a laboratory where he comes in contact with a string of remarkable departments and offices - to list several: Department of Linear Happiness, Department of the Meaning of Life, Department of Predictions and Prophecies, Children's Laughter Distillation Unit, Department of Defensive Magic, Department of Absolute Knowledge.

As I'm sure any reader will appreciate, with such a list the tale's social and cultural satire kicks into even higher gear. What are the consequences when technicians attempt to calculate society's highest happiness using mathematical formulas? How effective and efficient can such departments become? Are research projects and experiments being conducted here at all practical or useful?

Such questions fan out to even larger questions: What value is there in academic and scientific institutes around the world when subjects addressed have nearly zero relevance to the general population? What if researchers become so specialized they lose sight of what is beyond their specialty? In this way, the novel speaks to our modern world well beyond 1960s Soviet Russia.

There is even consideration at the institute of the ways to use vampires and magic carpets in modern warfare. And how will future research be done when such important components are added to the equation? I've just touched the surface here. Many more astonishing discoveries and ideas and memorable scenes await a reader opening the pages of Monday Starts on Saturday.



One can only wonder if old Nina Kievna has to travel to Moscow and stand in line on a mile-long queue to receive her Atomium scarf made from that modern synthetic fabric - nylon. Incidentally, the Soviet Union participated in the Brussels International Exhibition with its major contribution: a replica of Sputnik.


Authors Boris and Arkady Strugatsky

"I was woken by the flapping of wings and an unpleasant screeching. The room was filled with a strange, bluish half-light. The vulture on the stove was rustling its feathers, screaming repulsively and ganging its wings against the ceiling. I sat up and looked around. Floating in the air at the centre of the room was a big tough-looking bozo in tracksuit trousers and a striped Hawaiian shirt." - Arkady and Boris Strugatsky, Monday Starts on Saturday show less

Funny and crazy book, a first person narrative of a "programmer" (Saşa) that ends up involved in a so called "research institute". The mix of real and fantastic elements is very well done, and reproduces the feeling that could be found in a (less than ideal) university or research centre in a comical and satirical way. The books frames several scientists archetypes and uses for that a lot of "tongue-in-cheek" expressions and ideas. In the process it humanizes the scientists and makes science look magic. The first part is less interesting and well done than parts two and three.

В этот том вошел знаменитый роман братьев Стругацких «Понедельник начинается в субботу» — буквально раздерганная на цитаты история веселых, остроумных сотрудников таинственного института НИИЧАВО, где вполне всерьез занимаются исследованием магии и волшебства.