Nobody does gangsters like Kevin Barry does gangsters. A marvelous book that's just as entertaining the second time around as the first. Nobody does gangsters like Kevin Barry does gangsters. A marvelous book that's just as entertaining the second time around as the first. ...more
“Stalin’s Meteorologist” by Olivier Rolin is the story of a simple scientist caught up in extraordinary circumstances whose life has been overshadowed“Stalin’s Meteorologist” by Olivier Rolin is the story of a simple scientist caught up in extraordinary circumstances whose life has been overshadowed by the mystery of his death.
Alexey Feodosievich Wangenheim was born in 1881 in the village of Krapivo in the Chernigov Province of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic. His great misfortune was to serve as a meteorologist at a time when those who orchestrated the collectivist farming fiasco that resulted in the deaths of untold millions were looking for scapegoats. Who better than the man whose job it was to predict the weather?
On Jan. 8, 1934 , Wangenheim was supposed to meet his wife, Varvara, for a night at the opera in Moscow when he was whisked away by secret police to the Lubyanka, headquarters of the secret police, the GPU. After a ruthless interrogation, Wangenheim confessed to “a clandestine counterrevolutionary organization within the Hydrometeorological Department.” He was promptly arrested and deported to the Solovetsky Islands in the White Sea not far from the Arctic Circle. The ancient monastery there had been transformed into the first work rehabilitation center of the Main Directorate for Camps and Detention Facilities, a.k.a. the Gulag.
Wangenheim never saw his wife or young daughter, Eleonora, again.
Although he was charged for espionage and economic sabotage, Wangenheim didn’t know why he had been arrested. He was never told what he was supposed to have done that led to his arrest. Believing it all to be a terrible mistake, he retracted his confession and embarked on a tireless letter-writing campaign to petition for his release.
We know this because of the letters he sent home to Varvara, which contained illustrations he made with colored pencils for his daughter. Wangenheim drew pictures of birds and foxes and even a reindeer. He illustrated the berries that grew in the spring. He drew different types of leaves to help Eleonora learn to count.
It is these illustrations that captivated Rolin when he saw them in a book produced by Wangenheim’s daughter, who reproduced the letters as a testament to her love for a father who’d been taken from her when she was only 3 years old.
“I was moved by this long-distance conversation between a father and his very young daughter, whom he would never see again, his determination to play a part in her education despite being far away,” Rolin writes. He became enchanted with the story of the artful meteorologist. What happened to him? What became of Varvara and Eleonora?
This is the first English translation of “Stalin’s Meterologist,” which was awarded the Prix du Style when it was published in France in 2014. Throughout, Rolin exhibits a light touch with many discursive asides to ensure the darkness of his story doesn’t swallow up the reader. Establishing his subject’s scientific credentials, he breaks free of the narrative to speed things along: “Let us move on quickly, we’re not writing his CV.”
By telling the story from the inside out, Rolin proves to be a comforting and companionable guide to a gruesome period of history. Although the past he takes us through is irredeemably bloodthirsty, he confidently leads us back to the present, a seeker of light in a world of uncompromising bleakness.
Wangenheim, Rolin assures us, adjusted to his new life at Solovetsky. After a period of working outdoors planting trees he was moved to the library, which had 30,000 volumes. Some dating back to when the ancient monastery was a place of worship and study, some obtained from prisoners who passed through the Gulag. In fact, many of Wangenheim’s fellow prisoners were artists, intellectuals, clergymen and nobles, assembled “by the iron fist of the arbitrary ”:
An erudite Catholic bishop rubs shoulders with a former head of the assault sections of the German Communist Party, an austere meteorologist crosses paths with a Romany kind. Extreme political violence has thrown them together here, on this island hemmed in by ice six months of the year, enveloped by the long night of winter draped in the aurora borealis.
Wangenheim does not come across as particularly heroic. He fervently clung to his belief in the party and was confident that the truth would come out and he would be sent home. “We wish he could be more articulate, more rebellious,” Rolin observes, “but no, he continues to be a good Communist, a good Soviet crammed with ideology, his convictions seemingly unshaken by the fate that awaits him.”
Wangenheim displayed this conviction by crafting mosaics of party leaders out of chipped stone. In his last letter home to Varvara and Eleonora, he included a mosaic of Stalin. Wangenheim’s incarceration transpired during what Rolin refers to as the “ordinary terror” of life under Stalin during the run-up to the Great Terror of 1937-38 when things got decidedly worse for everyone.
In October 1937, Wangenheim was given two hours to pack his belongings and was shipped, along with 1,116 other prisoners, to the seaport of Kem. One prisoner died en route. Five others were sent elsewhere. The remaining 1,100 vanished, their fates unknown for 60 years.
It is a mystery that was only recently solved by the Memorial Service, an organization dedicated to uncovering the horrific crimes of the Great Terror. Through its efforts, it has discovered the heartbreaking facts of what happened to professor Wangenheim and his fellow deportees.
“The only slender satisfaction gained from studying these brutal times,” Rolin concludes, “is to note that nearly all the killers ended up being shot. Not by popular, international or divine justice, shot not by the Justice, but by the tyranny they served to the point of ignominy.”
While there are no happy endings in “Stalin’s Meteorologist,” it serves two functions: for readers to pay tribute to the victims by bearing witness to their oppressor’s crimes, and to understand the measures dictators take to silence their enemies, even a devoted husband and father with his head in the clouds. ...more
It's hard to believe the thirteenth book in a series could be this poorly executed. Not my cup of tea. It's hard to believe the thirteenth book in a series could be this poorly executed. Not my cup of tea. ...more
Easily one of the more innovative and entertaining audiobooks I've listened to. The production team makes use of multiple actors, sound effects and muEasily one of the more innovative and entertaining audiobooks I've listened to. The production team makes use of multiple actors, sound effects and music to enhance the listening experience. And the story is bonkers in the best kind of way. ...more
From the opening lines of Stephen Graham Jones’ new novella Mapping the Interior we know we’ve stepped into a different kind of story. “I was twelve tFrom the opening lines of Stephen Graham Jones’ new novella Mapping the Interior we know we’ve stepped into a different kind of story. “I was twelve the first time I saw my dead father cross from the kitchen doorway to the hall that led back to the utility room.” In Mapping the Interior Jones—author of over 20 books, most of them novels—uses the genre of the haunted house story to explore Native American issues. Junior, the young protagonist, is a sleepwalker who has trouble reconstructing the things that he sees and experiences in his home during his nighttime rambles. This serves as an apt metaphor for the systemic racism and injustices that his family faces. “You can leave the reservation, but your income level will land you in a reservation house, won’t it?” Mapping the Interior is a short, spooky book with a lot to say. ...more
Machado blends a heady mix of fairy tales, erotica and magic realism that toys with the readers’ expectations and lingers in the imagination afterwardMachado blends a heady mix of fairy tales, erotica and magic realism that toys with the readers’ expectations and lingers in the imagination afterwards. My favorite story in the collection, the novella length “Especially Heinous: 272 Views of Law & Order SVU,” defies classification. Using the format of a TV Guide listing and the tropes of the show, Machado takes the SVU characters Benson and Stabler on an absurd yet haunting journey neither they, nor the show’s creators, ever could have imagined. ...more
Manuel Paul López’s new poetry collection, These Days of Candy, published by Noemi Press this month, is full of sweet surprises.
The long middle sectiManuel Paul López’s new poetry collection, These Days of Candy, published by Noemi Press this month, is full of sweet surprises.
The long middle section that gives the book its title behaves like a novel with a cast of recurring characters with names such as Don Felipe, Mouse Pad Becky and Elias The Doom Boy aka ETDB, which Urban Dictionary tells me stands for Entitled Tech Douchebag.
These Days of Candy is a kind of quest with Don Felipe, who may or may not be a firefly, leading ETDB to see an enigmatic figure known as Mr. Signal. The poem is full of stage directions, includes hashtags and even comes with a track listing with precise cues for the music.
In one sequence, Mouse Pad Becky ruminates on the existence of humankind, “…our water evaporates, and we’re all left holding cellular phones trying to make the one call that will save us. But numbers are always wrong, they’re always wrong, ETDB. It’s horrible.”
What are we to make of all this? One of the epigraphs (“There is nothing wrong with me but life”) may provide a clue. Its author, Kenneth Patchen, was a prominent postwar San Francisco poet whose audacity on the page influenced the Beat Generation. He published more than 30 books during his lifetime (a dozen more were released after he passed away).
Patchen experimented with form, writing several pseudo-novels filled with illustrations and text of various fonts and sizes. Sometimes the text would run vertically down the page or across several pages before revealing their message, or would form images unto themselves to amplify the meaning of the words.
Though Patchen has been dead for over 35 years, one of his novels, The Journals of Albion Moonlight, was re-released by New Directions earlier this year.
López, who is an assistant professor of English at San Diego City College, appears to channel Patchen’s prose experiments and offbeat brand of secular humanism. His plotless quest is punctuated with exclamations to live as best we can before we “disintegrate.”
“Dream good dreams, he said. After all, that is all there ever is, he said.”
Whether “he” is López, Patchen or some other elusive literary light, it’s good advice and entertaining reading....more
Violent and suspenseful follow-up to Gangsterland. Goldberg's Las Vegas murder mystery reads at times like a critique of neoliberalism disguised as a Violent and suspenseful follow-up to Gangsterland. Goldberg's Las Vegas murder mystery reads at times like a critique of neoliberalism disguised as a murder mystery. Ends with a cliffhanger. ...more
A great haunted house story with a marvelous cast and a fantastic setting. The format--an oral history of a disappearance of a cult musician--inhibitsA great haunted house story with a marvelous cast and a fantastic setting. The format--an oral history of a disappearance of a cult musician--inhibits the capacity to frighten. The way the present intrudes on the narrative adds verisimilitude but reminds the reader that this all happened long ago and takes the reader out of the moment. Nevertheless, a fast-paced and thoroughly engrossing read.
I've suspected--no, known--for years that I needed to read this book, that it would unlock certain mysteries about memoir for me. And it has--though II've suspected--no, known--for years that I needed to read this book, that it would unlock certain mysteries about memoir for me. And it has--though I'm hard-pressed to say why. I think Nelson is really good at positioning her subject in a way that it doesn't matter if the book is frequently about other things. While The Red Parts is ostensibly "about" the murder trial of her long-dead aunt Jane after DNA evidence implicates a killer nearly 40 years after the fact, a previously unsolved murder that happens to be the subject of her previous book, a work of poetry. The Red Parts is really about how these new developments unravel much of what she thinks or knows (or thinks she knows) about Jane, her book, her family, etc. In this way the book is very writerly but I think it's great appeal (at least to writers) is how disruptive it is. The entire project is written not from a place of authority over the subject, but it's lack. As Nelson turns her attention to other aspects of her past, one can hear the wheels turning behind the prose: what else don't I know? What other untruths have I allowed to define me? A brave an audacious book....more
A must for completists and a handy tool for those new to her work. Powerful insights into the autobiographical undercurrents of her work, particularlyA must for completists and a handy tool for those new to her work. Powerful insights into the autobiographical undercurrents of her work, particularly as it relates to the Case Neary series. ...more
I didn't love the ending, but what a queasy, gut-churning ride to the finish. Compares favorably to The Talented Mr. Ripley and The Killer Inside Me, I didn't love the ending, but what a queasy, gut-churning ride to the finish. Compares favorably to The Talented Mr. Ripley and The Killer Inside Me, but Hughes did it first. High style in a lowdown place. My kind of book. ...more
When I lived in Flagstaff, Arizona, I would occasionally head down the mountain and parachute into Phoenix, Tucson, or some other desert city to the sWhen I lived in Flagstaff, Arizona, I would occasionally head down the mountain and parachute into Phoenix, Tucson, or some other desert city to the south. No matter how much money I had or how noble the purpose of my journey, I always seemed to end up in some cinderblock shithole on the wrong end of town at last call, making some ill-advised gambit for how I would spend the darkest hours of the night. Brian Jabas Smith's linked collection of stories is populated with the kinds of characters one meets after midnight in a strip club in Phoenix or outside a bar in Tucson. People who know a guy who knows a guy who can get you whatever you need. A bottle. A bag of go-fast. A plan to carry on and on and on. Smith's stories are full of haunted strippers, racist drug dealers, and a need so vast you could fill the Grand Canyon with it. Though not for everyone, Brian Jabas Smith just might be the William S. Burroughs of meth....more
Fascinating far-future dystopia about a woman who discovers that the world is not as it seems. Some aspects of this world were wildly inventive but I Fascinating far-future dystopia about a woman who discovers that the world is not as it seems. Some aspects of this world were wildly inventive but I found the prose style flat and the parts never quite cohered into a satisfying whole....more