Tatʹi͡ana Tolstai͡a

In the ruins of Moscow two centuries after the apocalypse, inhabitants dwell in primitive, frequently brutal conditions in which mice are a source of food, clothing, and commerce and books are banned by the ruling tyrant.

The Slynx

Rowena Wiseman

It took me 100 pages to fall in love with this book. At first I was confused by the second-person narrative butting in all the time, and who was telling this story anyway, Benedikt or a brother or who? And the language was so basic and primitive and there was too much text about catching mice and cooking mice and eating mice and trading mice. And what had happened to Tolstoya's dazzling lyrical style of writing?

And then around page 100, Benedikt escapes poverty, his basic hut, his mice for dinner and marries the girl he's been after for years, Olenka. And he moves in with her nutty, affluent family, and he has everything he's always wanted, the girl, all the food he can eat, a lovely home. But he becomes dissatisfied, because suddenly life feels empty. And he starts to fill this void by reading books.

In this strange world, after 'the blast' books are banned, the common folk believe they are poisonous and that you'll die if you touch one. But Benedikt discovers that the more he reads, the more he wants to know, that the real 'illness is human ignorance'. 

Tolstoya has built a fascinating dystopian world, with an oppressive government controlling the people through culture and fear. As Benedikt learns and grows, Tolstoya's prose also becomes more articulate, and it becomes obvious that those pared-back first 100 pages were a clever technique that she employed. There are some great humorous moments that had me chuckling out loud; Olenka lying in bed calling out to Benedikt to come and make love and her dad shouting out 'Lie down and wait. We're having a governmental conversation! About worldviews!' Or when Benedikt and his father-in-law are writing a decree ordering no more than three people can gather together. 'And what if there are six people in a family? Or seven?' Benedikt asks. ... 'Then let them fill out a form, pay a fine, and get permission.' his father-in-law says. It highlights the absurd and random nature of strict 'governmental approaches' through the ages.

There's so much to say really, but I'll just leave you with this excerpt ...

'You, Book! You are the only one who won't deceive, won't attack, won't insult, won't abandon! You're quiet - but you laugh, shout, and sing: you're obedient - but you amaze, tease, and entice; you're small, but you contain countless peoples. Nothing but a handful of letters, that's all, but if you feel like it, you can turn heads, confuse, spin, cloud, make tears spring to the eyes, take away the breath, the entire soul will stir in the wind like a canvas, will rise in waves and flap its wings!'

The Slynx

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