Бессмертный

Russian Library

by Olga Slavnikova, Ольга Славникова

In the chaos of early-1990s Russia, a paralyzed veteran's wife and stepdaughter conceal the Soviet Union's collapse from him in order to keep him--and his pension--alive, until it turns out the tough old man has other plans. An instant classic of post-Soviet Russian literature, Olga Slavnikova's The Man Who Couldn't Die tells the story of how two women try to prolong a life--and the means and meaning of their own lives--by creating a world that doesn't change, a Soviet Union that never crumbled.

After her stepfather's stroke, Marina hangs Brezhnev's portrait on the wall, edits the Pravda articles read to him, and uses her media connections to cobble together entire newscasts of events that never happened. Meanwhile, her mother, Nina Alexandrovna, can barely navigate the bewildering new world outside, especially in comparison to the blunt reality of her uncommunicative husband. As Marina is caught up in a local election campaign that gets out of hand, Nina discovers that her husband is conspiring as well--to kill himself and put an end to the charade. Masterfully translated by Marian Schwartz, The Man Who Couldn't Die is a darkly playful vision of the lost Soviet past and the madness of the post-Soviet world that uses Russia's modern history as a backdrop for an inquiry into larger metaphysical questions.

Genres: Russia, Fiction, Russian Literature, Politics

272 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 2001

About the author

English language profile for Ольга Славникова

Reviews

[Nicki Markus · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Man Who Couldn't Die is an interesting piece, but it's probably not going to be one that appeals to all readers. It is a deeply introspective work that considers not only the human psyche and metaphysical conundrums but also modern-era politics. In the latter respect it is a timely work, as it could also be said to represent more recent events in the Western world. I enjoyed the dilemmas the piece posed; however, at times I felt somewhat distanced from the characters. I would have liked to have established a stronger connection with them. Then again, that separation may have been a conscious decision on the part of the author. Either way, this is not an 'easy' or light read, so I would only recommend it to those who like a good dose of heavy introspection and philosophy in their literary fiction.

I received this book as a free eBook ARC via NetGalley.

[Subashini · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.75 stars, rounded up.

A bleak and biting social critique and satire that the Russians always manage to elevate into art. Deftly translated by Marian Schwartz, this is the story of the wife and daughter of a paralysed veteran—the man who couldn't die. Surviving on his pension, they try to prolong his life in a temporal suspended reality where the Soviet Union still exists. In doing so, the author spins a stark tale of ennui, corruption, and the failed promises of democratic capitalism with black humour and a clear-eyed ruthlessness that sugarcoats nothing about the human experience.

[Ilze Paegle-Mkrtčjana · Rating 3 out of 5]

Slavņikova, protams, ir interesanta rakstniece, bet laikam ne manējā... Savdabīgu epitetu pārbagātība žilbina pirmajās 20 lappusēs, bet pēc tam diemžēl sāk kaitināt. Lasot šo romānu, nespēju atbrīvoties no sajūtas, ka tas līdzinās daudzās raibās papīra kārtās ietīstītai konfektei: ilgi ceri un gaidi, ka tur slēpjas šokolāde ar marcipāna pildījumu, bet finālā dabū tikai stikleni

[Jessie · Rating 2 out of 5]

I could not get through this book and stopped around the 40% mark. I found it too bleak, without character development I could appreciate. I think for a reader with only superficial understanding of Russian politics, it was difficult to understand the specifics of what was being hidden, and what was being misrepresented in a way that was engaging to the reader.

[Jeff Koeppen · Rating 2 out of 5]

I don't recall how I discovered this book but the synopsis sounded interesting and I've had good luck with Russian literature in the past so I decided to listen to this on Audible.

This was not a book for me. The almost nonexistent plot dragged at a snail's pace and there were a number of times the rambling narrative caused me to lose interest and check out. I'm not smart enough to know if the translation was good or not but there were some passages that were clunky and didn't flow at all, and I found the narration to be not very good either.

In short, the novel is about a paralyzed and bedridden Russian WWII veteran, his much younger wife, and his step-daughter. The women want to keep him alive so that he continues to receive his military pension and he doesn't necessarily want to continue living in his physical state. The wife and step-daughter go to great lengths to hide from him that the Soviet Union has collapsed and Leonid Brezhnev has died. Knowing this would certainly push the veteran over the edge and prompt him to end his own suffering.

There were some interesting looks in to some post-Soviet goings-on also, such as corrupt local elections / voter fraud and struggles with capitalism, and these were told mostly through the eyes of the step daughter and didn't interest me or add much in my opinion. Overall, this novel just wasn't that interesting to me and I'm giving it 1.5 stars based only on the ending which I thought was well done.

[Robert Wechsler]

Marian Schwartz's amazing translation of this difficult-to-translate novel was not enough to hold my interest after the first quarter's charm wore off for me. This sort of satire is not to my taste.

[Майя Ставитская · Rating 4 out of 5]

This inversion of the world, loss of orientation, lack of a familiar perspective and the inability to continue an ordinary life in the usual way is not only the trouble of Olga Slavnikova's hero, but, perhaps, the main metaphor of the novel. Alexey Afanasievich, a pensioner of union significance, a knight of orders and others, has been bedridden for twenty years after a stroke, and does not know about the radically changed world. In the "here and now" book, and the first edition is dated 2001, therefore, it was written in the late nineties, a whole huge country, one-sixth of the land, found itself in the position of this pensioner with a blocked horizon in front of his eyes.

...

"Immortal" is written on behalf of those under whose feet the solid earth has turned into a swamp swell: if you step in the wrong direction, you will disappear, if you stay in place, you will be sucked in. While the pensioner is lying down, and his wife and daughter are recreating for him the semblance of an indestructible Union (why?), everything has changed. My daughter lost her job on television and got involved in a murky scam involving direct bribery of voters, in which she was clearly destined to play the role of vice chairman. My wife lives by inertia and perceives what is happening as an elderly Alice who has fallen into a land of gloomy wonders.
...
As a reader, I understand the idea of a "Light head": individualism and the desire to live "one's own" as opposed to the pressure of society, forcing you to sacrifice yourself for the common good. I am a Russian woman who "came" from the republics, I share the pain and understand the difficulties of the repatriates of the 90s ("2017"). I love the "Long Jump" with the breathtaking takeoff of units immobilized by the literal cutting off of legs, crushed by the weight of most people-pavers. But "Immortal" is incomprehensible to me in its deep essence.

It seems to me that in this case, "and the century will not end in any way, and the leader will not change in any way" - works rather from the opposite. Explaining why today's precarious stability, which we pay for by betraying our ideals, is dearer to us than the freedom of thirty years ago.

Смертельное макраме
Эта перевернутость вещей в бесчувственной руке Алексея Афанасьевича выражала отсутствие для него вертикалей и горизонталей нормального пространства.
Эта перевернутость мира, утрата ориентиров, отсутствие привычной перспективы и невозможность продолжать обычную жизнь обычным способом - беда не только героя Ольги Славниковой, но, пожалуй, и главная метафора романа. Алексей Афанасьевич, пенсионер союзного значения, кавалер орденов и прочее, прикован после инсульта к постели уже двадцать лет, и не знает, о радикально поменявшемся мире. В "здесь и сейчас" книги, а первое издание датировано 2001, следовательно, писалась в конце девяностых, целая огромная страна, в одну шестую часть суши, оказалась в положении этого пенсионера с заваленным горизонтом перед глазами.

Сегодняшний интерес к девяностым, склонный видеть их сквозь ностальгическую призму ретро: трава зеленее, мир ярче, сами мы моложе и лучше, кажется (спойлер - это только кажется, люди не меняются) - сегодняшний интерес остро нуждается в подобной памятке-напоминалке. Вот таким, на самом деле, было время колоссальных возможностей. Цены росли, производства закрывались, страна превратилась в один громадный замусоренный рынок. Да, кто-то поднимался, но главным образом бандиты на крови и партработники разных уровней на украденных у народа деньгах, я сейчас о замороженных банковских вкладах, за три месяца обесценившихся примерно в тысячу раз. Не случайно среди открыточных пожеланий людей, переживших то время, до сих пор "стабильность", которой прежде никому в голову не пришлось бы желать именинникам.

"Бессмертный" написан от лица тех, под чьими ногами твердая земля превратилась в болотную зыбь: шагнешь не туда, пропадешь, останешься на месте - засосет. Пока пенсионер лежит, а жена и дочь воссоздают для него подобие Союза нерушимого (зачем?), все поменялось. Дочь потеряла работу на телевидении и ввязалась в мутную аферу с прямым подкупом избирателей, в которой ей явно предназначена роль зиц-председателя. Жена живет по инерции и происходящее воспринимает как престарелая Алиса, попавшая в страну мрачных чудес. Племянник жены, один из тех кипучих лентяев, кто, вроде бы, ухватил за радужный хвост птицу удачи - кончил и вовсе плохо. Как в большинстве и кончали тогда такие скоробогатые.

Пенсия орденоносца с громадными надбавками стала главным источником дохода семьи, а сам Алесей Афанасьевич двадцать лет лежит, гадит под себя, ест с ложки, смотрит на портрет генсека на стене и XXVIII, XXIX сьезды КПСС, смикшированные для него падчерицей Мариной - по телевизору. Неясно, как ко всему этому относится, потому что не говорит. И не пишет, хотя мог бы, судя по тому, что подвижность возвращается к, по крайней мере, одной его руке. А теперь объясните мне, для чего было создавать этот оазис Союза в отдельно взятой комнате? Чтобы что? Чтобы потрясение не добило парализованного. у которого "сердце как у молодого" и не лишиться пенсии? Да ладно, ерунда.

Во-первых, добьют скорее пролежни и общая атрофия двадцатилетней неподвижности. Во-вторых - есть такое понятие, как наследование пенсии умершего супруга, и, в случае смерти мужа, свободная Нина Александровна, избавленная от необходимости ежедневно ворочать паралитика, стирать и кипятить описанное постельное, вздохнула бы свободно. То есть, отсутствие взаимной нежности и потребности в общении в этом союзе прописано достаточно четко, отказом от коммуникации. Человек, утративший подвижность и способность говорить, может ведь слышать обращенные к нему слова и отвечать на вопросы хотя бы моргая: один раз "да", два - "нет". В "Бессмертном" этого не происходит, парализованный герой становится кантовой вещью в себе, и вот эта большая неправда в основе мешает воспринимать блистательный в остальных отношениях текст, как правдивый. Как летопись, мгновенный точный слепок эпохи - да, как история, которой веришь - нет.

Ольга Славникова хороша с фигурами женских персонажей, все мужские здесь несколько карикатурны; великолепна с языком, но главная интрига с ограждением от правды падает в логическую дыру. Зачем так? Я -читатель понимаю идею "Легкой головы": индивидуализм и желание жить "своим" в противоположность давлению социума, принуждающего тебя к самопожертвованию ради общего блага. Я-"понаехавшая" из республик россиянка, разделяю боль и понимаю сложности репатриантов 90-х ("2017"). Я обожаю "Прыжок в длину" с упоительной взлетностью единиц, обездвиживаемых буквальным отрезанием ног, подминаемых тяжестью большинства людей-асфальтоукладчиков. Но "Бессмертный" мне непонятен в его глубинной сути.

Мне кажется, в этом случае "и не кончится никак век, и не сменится никак вождь" - работает скорее от противного. Объясняя, почему сегодняшняя шаткая стабильность, за которую платим предательством идеалов, милее нам свободы образца тридцатилетней давности. #РЕШ_2025

[Theediscerning · Rating 1 out of 5]

With the death of the Soviet Union, a loving family have to contrive to keep it alive in their family home, making it look like nothing had changed for their ill elder member, who would be too aggrieved of the change they remain ignorant of. They even have to conspire to make their own TV news, and maintain the drudgery of Communism, while outside their four walls the country bursts into progress, happiness and newfound freedom. That, obviously, is Goodbye Lenin!, but oddly the same situation is evident here, as a WW2 veteran with a stroke remains in bedbound ignorance of Brezhnev's death, and any futuristic alterations in the outside world. The two scenarios are remarkably alike – although I don't think anybody would accuse Russia of bursting into happiness.

What this book does is burst into the oh-so typical modernist style, of over-long, overly-complex sentences, to disguise lack of narrative. There really are swathes of this that could be ignored for the sake of the core story, of what happens when family members get caught up in political things. I found it hard to justify staying with this at times, as I also found it hard to understand the political sides and whose machinations were against whom. The result of it all is that, paradoxically after I bemoaned the lack of story, the end scene felt like too much of a rush to justify it all. This dense, literary read is an acquired taste. One and a half stars – I'll stick with my film, which is easy to say as it's my favourite of all time.

[D.B. Moone · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bibliographic information on The Man Who Couldn’t Die: The Tale of an Authentic Human Being Russian Library

Page Length: 272 pages

Publisher: Columbia University Press

Publisher Author Page

Publication Date: January 29, 2019

Author: Olga Slavnikova

Translated by: Marian Schwartz

Contributor: Mark Lipovetsky

ISBN: 9780231185943 (Hardcover), ISBN: 9780231185950 (Paperback), ISBN: 9780231546416 (E-book)

Genre: Literary Fiction, Russian Literary Fiction, Former Soviet Union

Rating: Five stars

About the Author:

Olga Slavnikova was born in 1957 in Sverdlovsk (now Ekaterinburg). She is the author of several award-winning novels, including A Dragonfly Enlarged to the Size of a Dog and 2017, which won the 2006 Russian Booker prize and was translated into English by Marian Schwartz (2010).

About the Translator:

Marian Schwartz translates Russian contemporary and classic fiction, including Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, and is the principal translator of Nina Berberova.

Synopsis of The Man Who Couldn’t Die: The Tale of an Authentic Human Being from Publisher’s Page:

“In the chaos of early-1990s Russia, a paralyzed veteran’s wife and stepdaughter conceal the Soviet Union’s collapse from him in order to keep him—and his pension—alive, until it turns out the tough old man has other plans. An instant classic of post-Soviet Russian literature, Olga Slavnikova’s The Man Who Couldn’t Die tells the story of how two women try to prolong a life—and the means and meaning of their own lives—by creating a world that doesn’t change, a Soviet Union that never crumbled.

After her stepfather’s stroke, Marina hangs Brezhnev’s portrait on the wall, edits the Pravda articles read to him, and uses her media connections to cobble together entire newscasts of events that never happened. Meanwhile, her mother, Nina Alexandrovna, can barely navigate the bewildering new world outside, especially in comparison to the blunt reality of her uncommunicative husband. As Marina is caught up in a local election campaign that gets out of hand, Nina discovers that her husband is conspiring as well—to kill himself and put an end to the charade. Masterfully translated by Marian Schwartz, The Man Who Couldn’t Die is a darkly playful vision of the lost Soviet past and the madness of the post-Soviet world that uses Russia’s modern history as a backdrop for an inquiry into larger metaphysical questions.”

Available for pre-order in Hardcover and Paperback at Columbia University Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, the E-book version is available for pre-order at Columbia University Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play, and will be available soon on Kobo and Apple.

My Review:

I am beginning my review with applause for Marian Schwartz genius translation of The Man Who Couldn’t Die: The Tale of an Authentic Human Being. Swartz has established herself as an affluent Russian to English translator beginning in 1977 and has translated more than forty books from Russian to English, including the world acclaimed Russian classic Anna Karenina, one of my favorites. Anyone that speaks more than one language will tell you there is no translation for many words from one language to another, which makes translating a difficult feat. Marian Swartz is a prominent Russian to English translator. To learn more about Swartz, her accomplishments and numerous awards she has received over the years, visit her website provided in the bibliographic section.

For complete review please visit www.dbmoone.com

[Richard Thompson · Rating 4 out of 5]

I admit that this book was a bit of a slog to get through, but it has rewards that made the experience worthwhile. The basic story seems unappealing - an impoverished family living in the post-Brezhnev era keeps the older veteran/husband alive in his room after he suffers from a stroke so that they can keep receiving his disability pension. As part of the plan for keeping him alive, the wife and stepdaughter freeze time for him, leaving up the picture of Brezhnev, feeding him doctored newscasts and lying to him about the state of the outside world. And the story is presented to us in a meandering eliptical prose style so that more than once I found myself pausing to reread a page because, though every word and each sentence made sense, I was not grasping the meaning of the whole without careful rereading.

And yet, despite the difficulty, I found much to admire. The absurdity of the situation and the oddball wandering prose style are very Gogolian. Very few writers who are influenced by Gogol are able to capture these elements of his style. And this is not the lighthearted Gogol of The Nose or Dead Souls, but the dark Gogol of The Overcoat and Nevsky Prospekt. And like Gogol, Ms Slavinkova layers in a lot of social commentary, but it isn't a straightforward criticism of any particular politics or social program, but, again like Gogol, it is a more general portrait of social malaise with a most definite Russian national feel. Oh my Russia! How the heck did this happen to you? And beyond Gogol, there are some very obvious parallels to Kafka's Metamorphosis. Maybe Alexei Afanasievich doesn't turn into a cockroach, but he might as well have done so, living like vermin shut up in his time-frozen bedroom, trapped there by the wife and stepdaughter who echo the role of the overbearing father in Kafka's story.

[Mandy · Rating 2 out of 5]

The absurd is a constant theme in Russian literature, from Tsarist times to the Soviet period to post-Soviet times, and this novel from acclaimed Olga Slavnikova is a good, if for me not successful, example of the genre. The narrative is built around Alexei Afanasevich Kharitonov, a WWII veteran now paralysed and bedridden after a stroke. His wife and step-daughter want to keep him alive – to continue to receive his pension - and do all they can to prevent him ever discovering that the Soviet Union has collapsed. Beyond this central spine to the story, we also follow Marina, the step-daughter, as she navigates her way through the complexities of the new media environment and has to come to terms with the new democracy. Local elections are being held and are explored in some depth, including the corruption and increasingly absurd stratagems to get votes, and the social critique here is certainly damning and recognisable. Unfortunately I just didn’t get on with this novel. I couldn’t relate to any of the characters, and although I can see that it is an insightful satire on the immediate post-Soviet era, I found it neither amusing nor entertaining. At least some knowledge of Russian history and politics is almost essential, but even though I have that, and even though I found much in the novel that was recognisable, I still found little to enjoy.

[Tara · Rating 3 out of 5]

An ex-soldier lies paralysed amid the chaos of post-Soviet Russia, his predicament a backdrop to the dual narrative focusing on his timid, downtrodden wife and her ambitious but self-defeating daughter, both of whom depend on his pension as inflation soars. They have hidden all signs of modern life from their home, and even concocted 'fake news' to serve the myth that the old regime is still intact. But their involvement in a rigged local election shatters the illusions they cling to, and meanwhile the patriarch's condition has improved just enough to make him long for death. This satirical novel features some amusing characters (such as the sadistic benefits rep, Klumba) and is definitely thought-provoking, but the execution is somewhat rambling.

[Ani Movsisyan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Заболеть новейшей российской литературой - тот еще диагноз. Славниковой диагнозы ставить можно пачками - конечно же, очень иллюзорными. Впрочем, как и весь тот мир, который она строит. Вообще, этой самой бессмертной тоской и очень нереальной нереальностью Ольга Славникова в "Бессмертном" расписалась. Впрочем, как и многие глыбы русскоязычных текстов.
За "в прихожей все продолжалось тесное шарканье, одежда с вешалки, словно в обморок, со вздохом и мягким бряканьем упала на пол" -отдельное спасибо. Из ряда текстовых оргазмов тут.

[James · Rating 3 out of 5]

For the right audience this is really a five star book. It is written with elaborate description, and a wry sense of humor. I imagine the lovers of lyric prose will enjoy it.

However it is also almost completely dialogue free, which gives the pacing an odd halucinatory feel, which I don't think most modern readers will enjoy.

It's an insight into the Kleptocracy that is now Russia, set around 2000. The dying of the old communists and the rise of the new soulless kleptocrats is documented around a single family and their struggle to survive.

[Zach · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love Russian novels about the pre-Soviet world. I tend to love post-Soviet novels as well. I struggle with novels from the Soviet era. I'm not sure why.. Something about the inherent absurdity of the system prevents me from reading about its absurdities. So The Man Who Couldn't Die is a strange hybrid of all of these. Post-Soviet but with the comic sensibilities of Dostoevsky. Contemporary but relying on the narrative styles of Gogol. Very interesting book.

[R · Rating 1 out of 5]

1/5⭐️

It just didn't work for me. The story is bleak and boring and flavourless, the characters are one dimensional, with no development, the plot was going nowhere and it is not about the old veteran, but about his wife and stepdaughter.

Definitely misleading.

The writing was decent, but not what I usually like.

I gave it 2⭐️ initially, but changed my rating after gathering all my thoughts in this review haha

[Joseph Spuckler · Rating 4 out of 5]

Excellent writing in language and style. The translation seems to keep the original’s detail. It seems almost modernist in the lack of dialog and concentration introspective. There is the acquired taste of Soviet literature in this late novel. It is almost like the isolation and sudden freedom in life is reflected in literature.

[Shelley Diamond · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting story contrasting the old Soviet Union and the new Russia. The title character, and his wife, represent the old Soviet Union. Their daughter Marina, representing the new Russia, is really the focus of the novel. She works for Russian media and gets involved in the corruption of the election process, just to get ahead in the company. I could imagine this novel getting adapted into a screenplay.

[Aaron Makepeace · Rating 2 out of 5]

An encapsulating story beset, unfortunately, by the worst & most repetitive use of "like a" simile's i have ever read. This was also found in the authors novel "2017".

They are so frequent and incessant, like a mewling machinegun metering out its metal, it becomes distracting & irritating. Its almost childish.

There are many sentences that include two simile's of this kind, its absurd.

[Casey · Rating 3 out of 5]

A demanding yet rewarding text. Some awkwardness in translation, and odd imagery, but nothing too distracting. I would've enjoyed a stronger sense of place.

I recommend to anyone looking for a deliberate reading experience (familiarity with critical theory is a plus).

3.5/5

[Maria · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dark, funny, very Russian.

[Liubomir Topaloff · Rating 2 out of 5]

Good premise, but a bad realization.

[Réka · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.75

[P Mark]

Want to live in Russia? This one will paint you a picture. Based in the time after the fall of the Eastern bloc. Is it capitalism now? or what.

[Emmi Bills · Rating 3 out of 5]

I had a hard time with this one. I’m glad that I took the time to read Mark Lipovetsky’s introduction, as it explained a lot of the literary tools the writer employs throughout the book (so many purposely unpleasant sounding similes!!), as well as Nietzsche’s concept of ressentiment... but man, I struggled to get through the story. The concept is simple and intriguing enough, but the style of storytelling is intentionally offputting, and it succeeds in that sense. If I were better educated in Russian culture and the zeitgeist that surrounds the subject matter, I may have had a more enriching experience while reading.

[Priscila Reis · Rating 5 out of 5]

Political satire at the end of the soviet union. A wife and a stepdaughter live off a paralyzed USSR war heroes's pension and shenanigans insue. Allegedly inspired Goodbye, Lenin.

[Mikhail Ignatev · Rating 1 out of 5]

Какая-то Славникова несчастная: видно же, что она очень старается, чтобы текст был хороший - а он и получается хороший, местами так просто замечательный, вроде - и коллизия есть, и характеры, но... она совсем не талантливая, вот даже хуже, чем Быков))) полная фигня, в общем!

[Cynthia · Rating 3 out of 5]

If you're a fan of classic Russian literature, you might like this book. It is very Russian - long, flowery sentences and descriptions of bizarre scenarios. Set right after the fall of the Soviet Union, it describes the poverty, the disrepair, the get rich quick schemes, the political corruption, and the depressed state of Russia in this new era.

The book is mostly about a corrupt campaign scheme in a local election. The "man who couldn't die" is actually only a minor character at best in this novel. The premise of "keeping everything the same for the dying old man" is not well supported by the plot. However, the writing and characterization is excellent.

[Lana (bags.and.books) · Rating 2 out of 5]

Thank you NetGalley and Columbia University Press for this ARC in return for my honest review.

Well, being Russian, I was very optimistic about this book. I am very interested in contemporary Russian literature, and it was a great opportunity to explore translated Slavnikova.

I did not enjoy it as I expected. Russian writers love to create long sentences trying to put everything in and overcomplicating it. I don’t believe it works well in Russian and I think it was terrible in translation. Some sentences last whole paragraph and I was lost when I finally reached the dot. I had to come back and re-read breaking it up in few part to get the sense.

I also felt like there was no real plot and no real character development. I was frustrated reading it, as I didn’t understand what the novel was about and who? Was it poor Marina struggling to find her place under the sun? Was it veteran Kharitonov as synopsis says? Was it about corrupted elections? Was in tumbled Russia in those horrible 90s? There are more questions than answers.

I was pushing myself to finish it in search of at least one answer.

Nope. Nothing.