Telluria

It must be de rigueur today to like exiled Russian authors - living in Berlin no less. Telluria "is set in the future, when a devastating holy war between Europe and Islam has succeeded in returning the world to the topor and disorganization of the Middle Ages", "an array of little nations that are like puzzle pieces, each cultivating its own ideology or identity, a neo-feudal world of fads and feuds, in which no power dominates."

Set in the same world of Day of the Oprichnik - a book that has been called prophetic given current events - Sorokin seems to indulge in navel-gazing about the 'idea' of Russia. Already on page 10 one of his main insights is spelled out: what if Russia, as an empire, had properly collapsed in 1917? Granted: a sharp thought indeed.

The 50 vignettes this novel consists of don't spawn a larger narrative nor fleshed out characters, and that, for me, results in boredom. It's the old adagio: in a world where everything is possible, nothing really matters.

I was amused or interested occasionally - Sorokin surely can be inventive - but ultimately he didn't manage to engage me. His writing felt pompous and self-serious, a self-seriousness dishonestly disguised by irony, a bit of salacious sex (who cares?), expensive drugs and shapeshifting wordiness.

So I jumped ship at 36%. I'd rather read some of Sorokin's interviews if I want to learn something, or even better, more of Varlam Shalamov's vignettes.

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