Olga Grushin

After losing his job and the respect of his family, Russian avant-garde artist Anatoly Sukhanov confronts his past in a series of dreams that reveals the sacrifices he has made to gain material wealth in twentieth-century Moscow. A first novel. Reprint. 40,000 first printing.

The Dream Life of Sukhanov

After losing his job and the respect of his family, Russian avant-garde artist Anatoly Sukhanov confronts his past in a series of dreams that reveals the sacrifices he has made to gain material wealth in twentieth-century Moscow.

Fraser Simons

Such an interesting concept! A 50 something-year-old art critic finds himself in a kind of mid-life crisis after a gala in which some new art is unveiled. A fairly standard affair for his cushy, bureaucratic position. He has a loving wife and a daughter and a son, both up and comers in Russian high society. Life seems to be fairly perfect—until he bumps into an old friend that invites him to his own gallery opening, far removed from good society.

This seemingly innocuous event puts into motion the spiraling of Sumhanov, as he is forced to remember things he has kept buried for so long, he hardly knows who he really is anymore. He doesn’t recognize his cousin, his family, especially where his wife is concerned, is treating him differently. And he dreams of things long forgotten. And it unravels him at the seams; slowly but surely a reckoning is coming. 

While I liked the prose well enough, the voice didn’t quite capture me on this. It’s literary and well defined. There’s some fantastic imagery and description that happen as the surrealistic themes take hold. It just never hit a flow state with me for some reason. It took me way longer to finish it and it felt far denser than it actually was. I just kept getting put out of the fiction, and I am not really sure why except to say it just wasn’t always jibing with me, I guess. 

What I loved, however, was the actual concept. Basically Sukhanov's relationship with memory and with dominating his reality—until that balance is interrupted—was just so on point. It’s something that in my 30s I only began to notice too. This notion that memory is fairly infallible and reliable is such a young persons’ concept. And yet they also form so much of who we are as well. It’s really fascinating, to be honest. 

As Sukhanov is forced to confront the lies he’s been crafting in order to survive the totalitarian government, and subsequently unearth his true and past self, the actual world slowly begins to incorporate his dream reality in a maybe Inception-esk way. I love this metaphor for not dealing with trauma and hidden feelings and the colouring of our perceptions based on things we have no control of; perhaps we are not even remotely aware of them. 

It manages to be quite deep in its exploration of the human heart, society, and its very real harm inflicted via institutions erected. The interrogation of art and surrealism, in particular, feels astute to me, though I know nothing of art. There are some heavy themes all made possible with art in dialogue. Very much enjoyed it. Maybe I’ll come to it again some time and see if the voice clicks for me. It’s the only thing missing for me, at this point.

The Dream Life of Sukhanov

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