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The Great Glass Sea
From celebrated storyteller Josh Weil comes an epic tragedy of brotherly love, a sui generis novel swathed in all the magic of Russian folklore and set against the dystopian backdrop of an all too real alternate present.
Twin brothers Yarik and Dima have been inseparable since childhood. Living on their uncle’s farm after the death of their father, the boys once spent their days helping farmers in collective fields, their nights spellbound by their uncle’s mythic tales. Years later, the two men labor side by side at the Oranzheria, a sea of glass—the largest greenhouse in the world—that sprawls over acres of cropland. Lit by space mirrors orbiting above, it ensnares the denizens of Petroplavilsk in perpetual daylight and constant productivity, leaving the twins with only work in common—stalwart Yarik married with children, oppressed by the burden of responsibility; dreamer Dima living alone with his mother and rooster, wistfully planning the brothers� return to their uncle’s land.
But an encounter with the Oranzerhia’s billionaire owner changes their lives forever. Dima drifts into a laborless life of bare subsistence while Yarik begins a head-spinning ascent from promotion to promotion until both men become poster boys for opposing ideologies, pawns at the center of conspiracies and deceptions that threaten to destroy not only the lives of those they love but the very love that has bonded the brothers since birth. This is a breathtakingly ambitious novel of love, loss, and light, set amid a bold vision of an alternative present-day Russia.
Twin brothers Yarik and Dima have been inseparable since childhood. Living on their uncle’s farm after the death of their father, the boys once spent their days helping farmers in collective fields, their nights spellbound by their uncle’s mythic tales. Years later, the two men labor side by side at the Oranzheria, a sea of glass—the largest greenhouse in the world—that sprawls over acres of cropland. Lit by space mirrors orbiting above, it ensnares the denizens of Petroplavilsk in perpetual daylight and constant productivity, leaving the twins with only work in common—stalwart Yarik married with children, oppressed by the burden of responsibility; dreamer Dima living alone with his mother and rooster, wistfully planning the brothers� return to their uncle’s land.
But an encounter with the Oranzerhia’s billionaire owner changes their lives forever. Dima drifts into a laborless life of bare subsistence while Yarik begins a head-spinning ascent from promotion to promotion until both men become poster boys for opposing ideologies, pawns at the center of conspiracies and deceptions that threaten to destroy not only the lives of those they love but the very love that has bonded the brothers since birth. This is a breathtakingly ambitious novel of love, loss, and light, set amid a bold vision of an alternative present-day Russia.
474 pages, Hardcover
First published July 1, 2014
52 people are currently reading
3,357 people want to read
About the author
Josh Weil
8Ìýbooks123ÌýfollowersJosh Weil is the author of the novels The North of the World (forthcoming 2026) and The Great Glass Sea, the novella collection The New Valley, and the story collection The Age of Perpetual Light.
Published internationally, his books have been New York Times Editor's Choices and selected for the Powell's Indiespensible program. They have been awarded the Dayton Literary Peace Prize, the Sue Kaufman Prize from The American Academy of Arts and Letters, the California Book Award, the Library of Virginia's Literary Award, the GrubStreet National Book Prize, the New Writers Award from the GLCA, and a �5 Under 35� Award from the National Book Foundation. Weil's short fiction has garnered a Pushcart Prize and appeared in Granta, Esquire, Tin House and One Story, among others. He has written non-fiction for The New York Times, Time.com, Poets & Writers and The Sun. A recipient of fellowships from the Fulbright Foundation, the MacDowell Colony, the Merrill House, and Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, he has been the Tickner Writer-in-Residence at Gilman School, the Distinguished Visiting Writer at Bowling Green State University, the Grisham Writer-in-Residence at the University of Mississippi, and the Distinguished Lecturer at The Sozopol Writing Seminars. He has taught at Columbia University, New York University, The New School, Brooklyn College, Sierra Nevada College, and Bennington College, as well as at numberous conferences, including the Squaw Valley Community of Writers and Bread Loaf.
He lives with his family in the Sierra Nevada of Northern California
Published internationally, his books have been New York Times Editor's Choices and selected for the Powell's Indiespensible program. They have been awarded the Dayton Literary Peace Prize, the Sue Kaufman Prize from The American Academy of Arts and Letters, the California Book Award, the Library of Virginia's Literary Award, the GrubStreet National Book Prize, the New Writers Award from the GLCA, and a �5 Under 35� Award from the National Book Foundation. Weil's short fiction has garnered a Pushcart Prize and appeared in Granta, Esquire, Tin House and One Story, among others. He has written non-fiction for The New York Times, Time.com, Poets & Writers and The Sun. A recipient of fellowships from the Fulbright Foundation, the MacDowell Colony, the Merrill House, and Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, he has been the Tickner Writer-in-Residence at Gilman School, the Distinguished Visiting Writer at Bowling Green State University, the Grisham Writer-in-Residence at the University of Mississippi, and the Distinguished Lecturer at The Sozopol Writing Seminars. He has taught at Columbia University, New York University, The New School, Brooklyn College, Sierra Nevada College, and Bennington College, as well as at numberous conferences, including the Squaw Valley Community of Writers and Bread Loaf.
He lives with his family in the Sierra Nevada of Northern California
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 99 reviews
September 1, 2014
This big deep wonderful plunge of a novel--THIS is exactly why I love fiction, wanted to be a writer in the first place. The Great Glass Sea is set in an alternative Russia, a speculative present that posits the cultivation of light by use of mirrors to create the Oranzheria, a mass greenhouse which begins to take over the entire region, banning night in favor of perpetual sunshine--run by contemporary oligarch named Bazarov (for those of you who enjoy that kind of thing, the reference to Turgenev's Fathers and Sons adds a certain spice).
It's the story of two brother, twins, Dima and Yarik, who grow up in Soviet times in the area now subsumed by the Oranzheria and its total monoculture. Those who do not subscribe to the 12 hour days and the company-town mentality are stuck in 'The Dachas' ('dacha' is the word for a Russian summer cottage, carrying overtones of private occupations, handwork and gardening) but is more of a shanty town where the slacker inhabitants are advertised to day and night with eye level video billboards of luxury products, things to want, reasons to sign up to the dream of the Oranzheria (consciously emulating a cynical version of the American Dream, the creation of material wants which then form the carrot of complete wage-slavery to the Oranzheria.)
The twins, naturally, come to land on opposite sides of this divide. One twin becomes Bazarov's (ambivalent) protege, while the other simply wants to be with his twin and go back to the land his uncle lived on in the Kolkhoz days and farm. (The Oranzheria is actually kind of Kolkhozlike, only the jargon is capitalist instead of Soviet). When the twins are split up early in the book for spending too much time together while working at the Oranzheria, the plot of the book unfolds in a chain reaction, as if an atom has been split. The two halves of the Russian soul--the yearning for individualism, the yearning for darkness and stars and dreaming, and the yearning for progress and material success and the bright shining lights of the New Russia--are beautifully depicted.
Josh Weil not only knows his Russia--wonderfully steeping the alternative history with a deep and wide feel for Russian culture, folkways and way of life--but he writes like an angel. This is the most careful, lush prose I've seen in a long time, he has really taken the time to write the hell out of every gorgeous sentence, searching for the best word, the best image. Here's a description of the zerkala, the mirrors:
"Dusk to dawn the city was eerie with a luminescence like a storm-smothered day with shadows sharp as noon. The planners had hoped a people used to the north's white nights might adapt with ease, that it would feel little different from summer's solstice: the long wait for dusk, the anxiousness that built by the hour until at last the sliver of night would drop and puncture it, pressure whooshing out like the long day's sigh. Except beneath the zerkala there was no puncture, no release. Not even summer's few hours of dark. And in the fall, the cold days drew behind them no blanket of night. Winter never grew its black coat. And what was there for spring to shed? From what would it wake?"
Especially beautiful in the Dima chapters--the book is told from alternate points of view--the lyricism takes you down inside the lake of this world in a way you never want to come up. I've set aside time to read this book in big chunks every day, an hour, hour and a half at a time, so I don't have to get into the water only have to get right out again.
**
Found myself slowing down as I approached the last few chapters, just wanting to stay in this world, wishing there was more, wondering how in the world Josh Weil was going to end a book so full of ideas and peril and relationships and folklore and history in a satisfying way. So far, it had served up a beautiful meshing of all these elements--could he keep it up all the way to the end? Or would it turn out and out tragic, everybody going down in a heap of gore like a tragic opera? Or prove be falsely optimistic, happily-ever-aftering the American reader and catering to wishful thinking? Would it turn horribly into an action-movie, like Smilla's Sense of Snow?
No spoilers but it was an absolutely fit and satisfying end. What a great read. Looking forward to his next book, hope it's Russia again.
It's the story of two brother, twins, Dima and Yarik, who grow up in Soviet times in the area now subsumed by the Oranzheria and its total monoculture. Those who do not subscribe to the 12 hour days and the company-town mentality are stuck in 'The Dachas' ('dacha' is the word for a Russian summer cottage, carrying overtones of private occupations, handwork and gardening) but is more of a shanty town where the slacker inhabitants are advertised to day and night with eye level video billboards of luxury products, things to want, reasons to sign up to the dream of the Oranzheria (consciously emulating a cynical version of the American Dream, the creation of material wants which then form the carrot of complete wage-slavery to the Oranzheria.)
The twins, naturally, come to land on opposite sides of this divide. One twin becomes Bazarov's (ambivalent) protege, while the other simply wants to be with his twin and go back to the land his uncle lived on in the Kolkhoz days and farm. (The Oranzheria is actually kind of Kolkhozlike, only the jargon is capitalist instead of Soviet). When the twins are split up early in the book for spending too much time together while working at the Oranzheria, the plot of the book unfolds in a chain reaction, as if an atom has been split. The two halves of the Russian soul--the yearning for individualism, the yearning for darkness and stars and dreaming, and the yearning for progress and material success and the bright shining lights of the New Russia--are beautifully depicted.
Josh Weil not only knows his Russia--wonderfully steeping the alternative history with a deep and wide feel for Russian culture, folkways and way of life--but he writes like an angel. This is the most careful, lush prose I've seen in a long time, he has really taken the time to write the hell out of every gorgeous sentence, searching for the best word, the best image. Here's a description of the zerkala, the mirrors:
"Dusk to dawn the city was eerie with a luminescence like a storm-smothered day with shadows sharp as noon. The planners had hoped a people used to the north's white nights might adapt with ease, that it would feel little different from summer's solstice: the long wait for dusk, the anxiousness that built by the hour until at last the sliver of night would drop and puncture it, pressure whooshing out like the long day's sigh. Except beneath the zerkala there was no puncture, no release. Not even summer's few hours of dark. And in the fall, the cold days drew behind them no blanket of night. Winter never grew its black coat. And what was there for spring to shed? From what would it wake?"
Especially beautiful in the Dima chapters--the book is told from alternate points of view--the lyricism takes you down inside the lake of this world in a way you never want to come up. I've set aside time to read this book in big chunks every day, an hour, hour and a half at a time, so I don't have to get into the water only have to get right out again.
**
Found myself slowing down as I approached the last few chapters, just wanting to stay in this world, wishing there was more, wondering how in the world Josh Weil was going to end a book so full of ideas and peril and relationships and folklore and history in a satisfying way. So far, it had served up a beautiful meshing of all these elements--could he keep it up all the way to the end? Or would it turn out and out tragic, everybody going down in a heap of gore like a tragic opera? Or prove be falsely optimistic, happily-ever-aftering the American reader and catering to wishful thinking? Would it turn horribly into an action-movie, like Smilla's Sense of Snow?
No spoilers but it was an absolutely fit and satisfying end. What a great read. Looking forward to his next book, hope it's Russia again.
May 28, 2014
I get that literary writing is about the words, not just the story. It's more character-driven, the plot often hard to truly define as you watch a character grow and experience their heart and soul. Great literary fiction makes you stop and savor the writing itself. I've read books like that, in which the writing sank in and I could taste the flavor of every sentence--while connecting to the characters. Unfortunately, that didn't happen here. It felt as if the author was aspiring for that effect.....but there in lies the problem. "It felt as if the author." I wasn't feeling the characters, or the setting, or the story. I only felt the presence of the author and his words and his thoughts burying the characters and their story. I never connected to either. It felt forced and I was too aware that this was someone's writing.
I'm not saying this to imply that the writer is some talentless hack. Not in the least. But if he'd turned it down several notches and chopped out a lot of excess, the story would not have been obstructed. As it was, I could not get into this book at all. I found myself skimming in search of interesting parts where I could feel the characters emerging from the words, although those parts were rather far between for me.
I'm not saying this to imply that the writer is some talentless hack. Not in the least. But if he'd turned it down several notches and chopped out a lot of excess, the story would not have been obstructed. As it was, I could not get into this book at all. I found myself skimming in search of interesting parts where I could feel the characters emerging from the words, although those parts were rather far between for me.
July 14, 2014
This book is now on my top 10 list of favorites of all time. Right up there with People of the Book. It is a modern-day Russian fable, a love story of twin brothers struggling with the new Russia, a struggle of the agrarian/socialist/capitalist transition that changes everything. Imagine a glass greenhouse built over the state of Minnesota by a billionaire with mirrors on satellites which make white nights all year round. I could go on and on....but just trust me, this book is brilliant! For an urban contrast, read Dissident Gardens by Lethem next!
April 22, 2015
First Reads Review - The Great Glass Sea by Josh Weil
This is a difficult book to review, in part because my expectations going into it were so very different from what actually ended up being the book. I should say, from the description I was thinking this was going to be a magic realism sort of contemporary fantasy set in Russia. The set in Russia part of that was correct, but this is not a fantasy. It's more a science fiction given the satellites that beam down sunlight from space to power the enormous greenhouse. But more than that it's a literary book about two brothers who fall apart, who let life get between them and find that things aren't as simple as they had thought. Both brothers, Dima and Yarik, are deeply flawed, though in different directions, and in the end the book seems to throw up its hands and declare there is no good answer,r no easy one. The world and how we organize it conspires to make us unhappy and lonely.
The book is tragic. The trajectory of both Dima and Yarik is a downward one from childhood, but even their childhoods were not pleasant. Their parents were not happy in Soviet Russia and their father killed himself. Their mother went into a deep depression at that and the boys went to live with their uncle, who was a farmer and a fantasist who told them stories. That was basically the peak of their lives, not because things were great but because they believed things could be great. They wanted a better life together and they thought it was possible. That dream was still alive. But as they grew and life seemed to take away more and more, the brothers started to fall. To fall apart and inward. Yarik started making concessions, find room for a wife, for children. He sacrificed the dream to have a life that was just enough. And Dima refused to sacrifice his dream and so sacrificed his life. Neither option worked, and for all the book hovers on how they stopped supporting each other, even if one of them had done what the other was doing it wouldn't have worked. They could neither have their dream or really be happy without it.
So yeah, the book is not a happy one. Add in that their mother gets dementia and Yarik starts to get very successful while betraying himself, his dream, and his morality, and that Dima gets drawn into a number of resistance movements against his will, used to try and stir up the people, and the book has a lot of tension. But not a lot of action. I feel that it's part of what the book is trying to say, that here are two men trying to avoid the struggle. They don't want revolution. They want this simple existence and cannot have it. So whenever things look to be about to become very action-heavy, they fold. They give up. They surrender. It makes sense for the story but it was a bit frustrating to read.
And in the end the book was good, was interesting, but a bit too long and a bit too dry for my tastes. There's a lot to it, and a lot to enjoy for people wanting a brooding, methodical piece. The language is effective and the structure epic and classic. But the characters and the message are both a bit hard to get into. The book gets to the heart of a problem, the lack of leisure, the betrayal of dreams. But it doesn't offer much up. It doesn't give many solutions. It's not a bad book, but I just couldn't get into it as much as I would have liked. A 7/10 for me.
This is a difficult book to review, in part because my expectations going into it were so very different from what actually ended up being the book. I should say, from the description I was thinking this was going to be a magic realism sort of contemporary fantasy set in Russia. The set in Russia part of that was correct, but this is not a fantasy. It's more a science fiction given the satellites that beam down sunlight from space to power the enormous greenhouse. But more than that it's a literary book about two brothers who fall apart, who let life get between them and find that things aren't as simple as they had thought. Both brothers, Dima and Yarik, are deeply flawed, though in different directions, and in the end the book seems to throw up its hands and declare there is no good answer,r no easy one. The world and how we organize it conspires to make us unhappy and lonely.
The book is tragic. The trajectory of both Dima and Yarik is a downward one from childhood, but even their childhoods were not pleasant. Their parents were not happy in Soviet Russia and their father killed himself. Their mother went into a deep depression at that and the boys went to live with their uncle, who was a farmer and a fantasist who told them stories. That was basically the peak of their lives, not because things were great but because they believed things could be great. They wanted a better life together and they thought it was possible. That dream was still alive. But as they grew and life seemed to take away more and more, the brothers started to fall. To fall apart and inward. Yarik started making concessions, find room for a wife, for children. He sacrificed the dream to have a life that was just enough. And Dima refused to sacrifice his dream and so sacrificed his life. Neither option worked, and for all the book hovers on how they stopped supporting each other, even if one of them had done what the other was doing it wouldn't have worked. They could neither have their dream or really be happy without it.
So yeah, the book is not a happy one. Add in that their mother gets dementia and Yarik starts to get very successful while betraying himself, his dream, and his morality, and that Dima gets drawn into a number of resistance movements against his will, used to try and stir up the people, and the book has a lot of tension. But not a lot of action. I feel that it's part of what the book is trying to say, that here are two men trying to avoid the struggle. They don't want revolution. They want this simple existence and cannot have it. So whenever things look to be about to become very action-heavy, they fold. They give up. They surrender. It makes sense for the story but it was a bit frustrating to read.
And in the end the book was good, was interesting, but a bit too long and a bit too dry for my tastes. There's a lot to it, and a lot to enjoy for people wanting a brooding, methodical piece. The language is effective and the structure epic and classic. But the characters and the message are both a bit hard to get into. The book gets to the heart of a problem, the lack of leisure, the betrayal of dreams. But it doesn't offer much up. It doesn't give many solutions. It's not a bad book, but I just couldn't get into it as much as I would have liked. A 7/10 for me.
June 27, 2015
Russian billionaire Boris Bazarov places space mirrors in orbit to catch the light of the sun at all hours, creating perpetual daytime under a sea of glass in Petroplavilsk and the surrounding rural communities, near the giant inland Lake Onega. Twins Yarik and Dima find themselves working side-by-side, trying to get ahead. Their paths diverge as Yarik is married with children and is promoted by Bazarov while Dima wishes for a simpler life as a Russian peasant. The grand scheme here is a portrayal of new Russia, and the inherent struggle between: new and old, agrarian and industrial, communism and capitalism, society and individual, but I thought it fell flat. Good writing, but just too much. 2.5 stars.
Want to read
July 2, 2014Ooh ooh ooh. Says Flavorwire: Weil’s novel bends genres, uses Russian folklore, and gives you enough little philosophical nuggets to bite on to fill your July quota for strange, but totally engrossing novels.
August 9, 2019
Josh Weil's lovely new book, spinning a relatively realistic story from a fantasy premise, asks: What might happen if you take wintery, gloomy Russia and invent mirrored sun-reflecting satellites to make 24-hour daylight? Well, the result here is that no one gets weekends anymore... any day off of work is extremely rare. They use that time to build a gigantic greenhouse, miles across, the "Great Glass Sea" of the title. That requires buying up properties and destroying everything more than two stories high... for buildings, the new glass ceiling is their new roof.
The narrative switches perspectives between two twin brothers: Dima and Yarik. They are now in their thirties but they remember a time before the Great Glass Sea. Before this invention, the brothers couldn't have been closer. Yarik is married with two children but Dima has neither and doesn't even want friends in his life, as it would make him less close with his brother. Up to a point, their lives were always the same and they were always together, but like swerving train tracks, Dima quits his job to just amble around and do what he wants to do: reciting poetry on statues in the park attracts the attention of anarchists and the old Communists. Dima becomes an unintentional, accidental poster-boy for both of those groups. Yarik also becomes an actual poster-boy for upward mobility when the man who is responsible for the Great Glass Sea likes his story (or really wants to re-write his story) and give the people something to strive towards in their own lives. But the people see Dima doing what he wants to do with his time and start working at a less urgent pace. Both brothers want to save up money to reclaim their uncle's farm before the Great Glass Sea covers all of Russia.
I'd like to see more books that take a fantasy premise and apply it to a realistic narrative. I guess you'd call it speculative fiction. Weil writes extremely well (I'm sure his background as a Russian exchange student didn't hurt) but sometimes little details seem to get repeated a few times. If the repetitiveness was cut down, I think it would have made for a shorter and better book. I especially adored the little drawings that Weil included around the chapter names. They are so amazing and detailed! One drawing has around twenty geese and at first glance it looks like the same goose twenty times, but if you look closer, each is slightly different. I especially liked the little sewing sampler with roosters and tanks. If this writing thing doesn't work out... oh wait, it completely has and will.
The narrative switches perspectives between two twin brothers: Dima and Yarik. They are now in their thirties but they remember a time before the Great Glass Sea. Before this invention, the brothers couldn't have been closer. Yarik is married with two children but Dima has neither and doesn't even want friends in his life, as it would make him less close with his brother. Up to a point, their lives were always the same and they were always together, but like swerving train tracks, Dima quits his job to just amble around and do what he wants to do: reciting poetry on statues in the park attracts the attention of anarchists and the old Communists. Dima becomes an unintentional, accidental poster-boy for both of those groups. Yarik also becomes an actual poster-boy for upward mobility when the man who is responsible for the Great Glass Sea likes his story (or really wants to re-write his story) and give the people something to strive towards in their own lives. But the people see Dima doing what he wants to do with his time and start working at a less urgent pace. Both brothers want to save up money to reclaim their uncle's farm before the Great Glass Sea covers all of Russia.
I'd like to see more books that take a fantasy premise and apply it to a realistic narrative. I guess you'd call it speculative fiction. Weil writes extremely well (I'm sure his background as a Russian exchange student didn't hurt) but sometimes little details seem to get repeated a few times. If the repetitiveness was cut down, I think it would have made for a shorter and better book. I especially adored the little drawings that Weil included around the chapter names. They are so amazing and detailed! One drawing has around twenty geese and at first glance it looks like the same goose twenty times, but if you look closer, each is slightly different. I especially liked the little sewing sampler with roosters and tanks. If this writing thing doesn't work out... oh wait, it completely has and will.
September 22, 2014
What Weil creates here is an alternate reality for current-day Russia. There are mirror panels put into place that create daylight all day long for the entire year. This creates a work force that never stops.
The story of old vs. new is paralleled in the story of twin brothers, Yarik and Dima. Yarik buys into the idea that working is the best for the community. He is promoted and enjoys the spoils the money provides for his wife and children. Dima is stuck on the idea that one day the two brothers will buy their uncle's farm and wile away the days growing crops the old-fashioned way. Dima looks forward to idle days and does the unthinkable and walks away from his responsibilities.
I think what Weil manages to evoke here is a realistic world that creates characters that are in some ways elusive and in other ways all too real. There is a dream-like quality to the world he creates under the Oranzheria (the sea of glass that houses the city).
There are parts that move slowly or perhaps could have done with a bit of whittling down, but the writing is so fluid, that it's hard to want less.
The story of old vs. new is paralleled in the story of twin brothers, Yarik and Dima. Yarik buys into the idea that working is the best for the community. He is promoted and enjoys the spoils the money provides for his wife and children. Dima is stuck on the idea that one day the two brothers will buy their uncle's farm and wile away the days growing crops the old-fashioned way. Dima looks forward to idle days and does the unthinkable and walks away from his responsibilities.
I think what Weil manages to evoke here is a realistic world that creates characters that are in some ways elusive and in other ways all too real. There is a dream-like quality to the world he creates under the Oranzheria (the sea of glass that houses the city).
There are parts that move slowly or perhaps could have done with a bit of whittling down, but the writing is so fluid, that it's hard to want less.
February 1, 2015
The Great Glass Sea is a beautiful book. The language is lyrical, the concept (near future orbiting mirrors create endless daylight for an enormous greenhouse in Russia) is clever, and the story about the relationship of twin brothers is intensely moving. I find that I’m drawn to stories about sibling conflicts (that’s what I liked most about Elizabeth Strout’s The Burgess Boys), and that’s really at the heart of Josh’s book. So, on all those levels, this is a deeply rewarding read.
Read my full review on my blog:
Read my full review on my blog:
July 20, 2015
This book renewed my faith in fiction. It's exactly the kind of book that made me want to write. Brilliant. Moving. Thought provoking. It made me want to be a better writer, or die trying.
June 29, 2014
The Great Glass Sea by Josh Weil is a superbly crafted, warped dystopian tale set in an alternative Russia, where twins Yarik and Dima grew up in the farm of their uncle after the death of their father. When they became young men, both the brothers find themselves working on Oranzheria, an acres-wide sea of glass lit by space mirrors that is meant to bath the citizens of Petroplavilsk in perpetual daylight, trying to eke out their future. But it is no easy life for the brothers. Dima becomes restless and dreams of going back to his uncle’s farm and work there alongside Yarik, as they did many years earlier.
But the inexplicable happened. The Russian billionaire Boris Bazarov who owns the Oranzheria had a chance encounter with Yarik, leading to his rise in prominence and rank. It also comes at a high price. The brothers drifted apart and they soon become totally estranged, with both sitting on the opposite side of the ideological divide. It is difficult to see how the brothers resolve their differences in this gripping tale about love, loss and family which is neatly interspersed with politics and ideology. Impressive for a debut novel, The Great Glass Sea by Josh Weil is well-conceived, powerful and highly absorbing.
But the inexplicable happened. The Russian billionaire Boris Bazarov who owns the Oranzheria had a chance encounter with Yarik, leading to his rise in prominence and rank. It also comes at a high price. The brothers drifted apart and they soon become totally estranged, with both sitting on the opposite side of the ideological divide. It is difficult to see how the brothers resolve their differences in this gripping tale about love, loss and family which is neatly interspersed with politics and ideology. Impressive for a debut novel, The Great Glass Sea by Josh Weil is well-conceived, powerful and highly absorbing.
October 15, 2020
>>Das gläserne Meer� ist ein großer Roman über den Preis unserer Träume und Ideale, hochpoetisch und angefüllt mit der Magie russischer Märchen.<<
Das Buch hat mir sehr gefallen. Es brauchte nicht lange, bis ich völlig darin versunken war. Der Schreibstil nimmt einen einfach sofort mit und verzaubert und besticht durch schöne anschauliche Vergleiche und Beschreibungen. Die Geschichte hat mir ebenso gut gefallen, obwohl da doch etwas skeptisch war, ob mir diese zusagen würde. Aber sie hat es, denn die Kombination aus allem ist einfach toll und ich kann das Buch nur jedem ans Herz legen, der sich nicht scheut etwas anspruchsvoller zu lesen.
Das Buch hat mir sehr gefallen. Es brauchte nicht lange, bis ich völlig darin versunken war. Der Schreibstil nimmt einen einfach sofort mit und verzaubert und besticht durch schöne anschauliche Vergleiche und Beschreibungen. Die Geschichte hat mir ebenso gut gefallen, obwohl da doch etwas skeptisch war, ob mir diese zusagen würde. Aber sie hat es, denn die Kombination aus allem ist einfach toll und ich kann das Buch nur jedem ans Herz legen, der sich nicht scheut etwas anspruchsvoller zu lesen.
May 17, 2021
So I started this, read about a quarter of it, and then put it down for a little over 2 months before I finished it. This wasn't really for me.
But! I think this is a book that is for others. Weil's prose is lovely, and I like what he is trying to do here.
Twin brothers live in a near future Russia where enormous mirrors in space perpetually direct sun over a monstrous glass greenhouse that is always growing, swallowing hectares of farms and towns and forests. Both brothers work on the construction crew, but when one twin is promoted, their lives diverge sharply.
There's some good stuff in here about fate, family, the cyclical nature of life and the way that all ideologies are constructed impositions that do not always serve the common man. I love that stuff! But something just felt a bit artificial about the book. And artificiality was one of the themes, of course. Only manipulated seeds can grow in the greenhouse, and the greenhouse itself requires constant maintenance and intervention. But I think the reflection of this in my reading experience was unintentional. When the twins' fates begin to split, they each become increasingly erratic and almost melodramatic. Unfortunately, Weil didn't keep me connected enough to them to keep me fully engaged. And the writing is rather dreamy, but 470 pages is a long time to carry dreamy, and for me, Weil didn't quite pull this off.
But! I think this is a book that is for others. Weil's prose is lovely, and I like what he is trying to do here.
Twin brothers live in a near future Russia where enormous mirrors in space perpetually direct sun over a monstrous glass greenhouse that is always growing, swallowing hectares of farms and towns and forests. Both brothers work on the construction crew, but when one twin is promoted, their lives diverge sharply.
There's some good stuff in here about fate, family, the cyclical nature of life and the way that all ideologies are constructed impositions that do not always serve the common man. I love that stuff! But something just felt a bit artificial about the book. And artificiality was one of the themes, of course. Only manipulated seeds can grow in the greenhouse, and the greenhouse itself requires constant maintenance and intervention. But I think the reflection of this in my reading experience was unintentional. When the twins' fates begin to split, they each become increasingly erratic and almost melodramatic. Unfortunately, Weil didn't keep me connected enough to them to keep me fully engaged. And the writing is rather dreamy, but 470 pages is a long time to carry dreamy, and for me, Weil didn't quite pull this off.
August 8, 2018
I had a very difficult time with this book and I often don’t stop reading book. But I got over 100 pages in and could not read any more. I am not sure where the book was going or with any point.
this is probably only the second book in the last 5 years I could not finish.
this is probably only the second book in the last 5 years I could not finish.
September 3, 2024
it was aight
February 11, 2018
Here's another book from an author that was one of Buzzfeed's "20 Under 40 Debut Writers You Need to Be Reading," the same list that gave me . I suppose it's coincidence, but this book, by Josh Weil, also has elements of blood relatives being far too close to each other. In this case, it's identical twins and at least there's no incest.
There are chapters here that are truly fantastic. You just fall into them. And the book improves the closer you get to the end. But also worsens. I am still trying to put my finger on exactly what bugs me so much. I thought, initially, that the author was using the twin brothers to represent two sides of Russia. The pragmatic Yarik and the dreamer Dima. But the book does not seem to follow through with that vision. The brothers at the end remain diametrically opposed.
Another issue I have is that neither brother does much by choice, but this is especially true of Dima. They are pushed into action by others with more forceful ideas, except Yarik, near the end. And then there's something better expressed by another Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ reviewer: "I just got so sick of Dima." I came to agree. The dreamer brother is a half-insane dope who blows past trying to be noble and lands successfully on being an ass.
And if the brothers really are meant to reflect sides of Russia's soul, is that the message? That the people who wish for the return of a past time of community and leisure are nutbag dolts who would let their dependent mother starve rather than face reality? There is no compromise in this book, and neither brother changes their mind by the end, so maybe?
And that is the last problem. The conflict between Western-style capitalism and an old school communal agriculturalism is incredibly exaggerated. Both sides are taken to extremes, so no wonder compromise is not possible. At the end, the brothers just get out of each other's way.
When I first read that Yarik and Dima work 12 hour days, with no weekends and only four holidays, I assumed that they must be living in an authoritarian, militarized society. Work like a dog or die. But no. This is supposed to be a lifestyle people choose.
The author tells us they work so hard because they want to buy things. But these people have no time to consume the consumer goods that they're killing themselves to get. Nobody has time to read, or watch television, or enjoy a nice dinner or a fancy car. And apparently, Dima is philosophically opposed to "working" at anything other than selling his possessions occasionally and scavenging for rotten food unless he can obtain his impossible perfect dream of owning a farm with Yarik. I don't understand the point of the exaggeration.
It seems like much of the book is a play on Pushkin's epic fairy tale poem . I am not familiar with it at all, and while the author provides some context, it was not enough to make me truly understand. My favorite part of the book, really, is the dialogue between Yarik and Basarov, who is just as crazy as Dima but more interesting.
Final call:
The alternate-Russia with space mirrors is an intriguing premise. Weil is terrific at painting scenes, giving us the feel of the Russian night. But in the very best of books, you catch a few themes and you can't believe how intricately they echo forward and backward throughout the text. I missed those reverberations here, because I am not sure what the message of the book is and so cannot trace it.
This review was originally posted at .
There are chapters here that are truly fantastic. You just fall into them. And the book improves the closer you get to the end. But also worsens. I am still trying to put my finger on exactly what bugs me so much. I thought, initially, that the author was using the twin brothers to represent two sides of Russia. The pragmatic Yarik and the dreamer Dima. But the book does not seem to follow through with that vision. The brothers at the end remain diametrically opposed.
Another issue I have is that neither brother does much by choice, but this is especially true of Dima. They are pushed into action by others with more forceful ideas, except Yarik, near the end. And then there's something better expressed by another Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ reviewer: "I just got so sick of Dima." I came to agree. The dreamer brother is a half-insane dope who blows past trying to be noble and lands successfully on being an ass.
And if the brothers really are meant to reflect sides of Russia's soul, is that the message? That the people who wish for the return of a past time of community and leisure are nutbag dolts who would let their dependent mother starve rather than face reality? There is no compromise in this book, and neither brother changes their mind by the end, so maybe?
And that is the last problem. The conflict between Western-style capitalism and an old school communal agriculturalism is incredibly exaggerated. Both sides are taken to extremes, so no wonder compromise is not possible. At the end, the brothers just get out of each other's way.
When I first read that Yarik and Dima work 12 hour days, with no weekends and only four holidays, I assumed that they must be living in an authoritarian, militarized society. Work like a dog or die. But no. This is supposed to be a lifestyle people choose.
The author tells us they work so hard because they want to buy things. But these people have no time to consume the consumer goods that they're killing themselves to get. Nobody has time to read, or watch television, or enjoy a nice dinner or a fancy car. And apparently, Dima is philosophically opposed to "working" at anything other than selling his possessions occasionally and scavenging for rotten food unless he can obtain his impossible perfect dream of owning a farm with Yarik. I don't understand the point of the exaggeration.
It seems like much of the book is a play on Pushkin's epic fairy tale poem . I am not familiar with it at all, and while the author provides some context, it was not enough to make me truly understand. My favorite part of the book, really, is the dialogue between Yarik and Basarov, who is just as crazy as Dima but more interesting.
Final call:
The alternate-Russia with space mirrors is an intriguing premise. Weil is terrific at painting scenes, giving us the feel of the Russian night. But in the very best of books, you catch a few themes and you can't believe how intricately they echo forward and backward throughout the text. I missed those reverberations here, because I am not sure what the message of the book is and so cannot trace it.
This review was originally posted at .
December 22, 2021
Josh Weil's The Great Glass Sea is a remarkable achievement. The novel deftly combines the feel of a Russian fairy tale, a dystopian near-future sci-fi novel, and a touching family novel about twin brothers, Dima and Yarik and the choices each make. The novel also shows the radical changes Russian has gone through since the breakup of the Soviet Union, yet also shows that regardless of whether socialists or capitalists are in charge, leaders use the power of the people's desires to control them. The only book I can think of that comes close to the feel and magic of this book is Mark Helprin's A Winter's Tale.
August 25, 2015
Hektarweit breitet sich in Russland eine riesige Fläche aus Glasplatten über der Oranzeria aus, dem größten Gewächshaus der Welt, das rund um die Uhr mithilfe von Spiegeln im Weltraum beleuchtet wird. Das größenwahnsinnige Bauwerk wirkt wie eine Halskrause, die jemand der Welt umgelegt hat. In diesem monströsen Projekt arbeiten wie in einer Fabrik zur Erzeugung von Lebensmitteln die Zwillingsbrüder Dimitri und Jaroslaw. Sie selbst sind vaterlos in einer winzigen Hütte aufgewachsen und haben Märchen erzählt bekommen, in denen sie selbst vorkommen. Die Handlung spielt in der Gegenwart, der Afghanistan-Krieg ist bereits Geschichte. Weil ständig Licht verfügbar ist, gibt es keine Winternächte mehr, im ewigen Sommer fehlen den Pflanzen Phasen der Dunkelheit, Tiere geraten durch die Lichtüberschwemmung in Panik. Die Meere erholen sich zwar von der Überfischung, aber der Schiffbau stagniert. Vom Betreiber-Konsortium, dem das Licht gehört, sind die Menschen abhängig geworden. Jarik bekommt das zuerst zu spüren; er hat Frau und Kinder und wagt deshalb keinen Widerspruch. Als die Brüder vom Vorarbeiter in unterschiedliche Schichten eingeteilt werden, beginnt eine Entfremdung zwischen ihnen, die schon bald groteske Züge annimmt. Das ehemals enge Band zwischen Dima und Jarik hat sich verdreht. Mit einem angepassten und einem regimekritischen Bruder stehen sich alte und neue Welt gegenüber. Das überdimensionierte Gewächshaus erweist sich in dieser Größe als unregierbar; der Druck des Systems auf die Arbeiter wächst. Dennoch will der Milliardär Basarow weiteres Land für das Projekt aufkaufen, ein Städter, der nie einen Fuß auf ein Feld gesetzt hat. Wenn niemand mehr Freizeit hat, braucht niemand mehr Datschen auf dem Land; den Aufkäufern sind damit Tür und Tor geöffnet.
Plötzlich sind Dima und Jarik nicht nur als Arbeiter von den Expansionsplänen betroffen, sondern auch als Erben eines winzigen Häuschens, in dessen Hof ihr Vater begraben liegt. Dima fragt sich, ob man die Zivilisation nicht einfach ignorieren und so leben kann wie seine Großeltern. Als Einzelgänger und Querdenker ist er in diesem dystopischen Szenario isoliert und wird zunehmend in eine radikale Ecke gedrängt. Er will den elterlichen Hof zurückkaufen und das alte Wissen aus der Landwirtschaft erhalten, das mit der Automatisierung gerade verloren geht.
In seinem in der deutschen Ausgabe märchenhaft illustrierten Buch von üppigen 670 Seiten stellt der amerikanische Autor mit zwei Brüdern zugleich zwei Seiten einer Medaille gegenüber, bringt Licht und Dunkelheit, Aufstieg und Abstieg, Gesundheit und psychische Krankheit als Motive ein. Der systemkritische Bruder nimmt besonders den schimmernden Rand des Szenarios wahr, in dem man den Rand der Gesellschaft oder auch den Rand der Realität sehen könnte.
Josh Weil war als Jugendlicher in Russland als Austauschschüler und kommt mit seinem utopischen Roman eines Bruderkonflikts der russischen Seele erstaunlich nahe. Diese Seele enthält jedoch einen amerikanischen Kern; denn seine Figuren kennen amerikanische Truthähne, Rugby und Kordeln mit Metallspitzen anstelle von Krawatten. Bei Weil scheint alles schön und gut zu sein, solange die Russen wenigstens in Details dem amerikanischen Traum nacheifern.
Plötzlich sind Dima und Jarik nicht nur als Arbeiter von den Expansionsplänen betroffen, sondern auch als Erben eines winzigen Häuschens, in dessen Hof ihr Vater begraben liegt. Dima fragt sich, ob man die Zivilisation nicht einfach ignorieren und so leben kann wie seine Großeltern. Als Einzelgänger und Querdenker ist er in diesem dystopischen Szenario isoliert und wird zunehmend in eine radikale Ecke gedrängt. Er will den elterlichen Hof zurückkaufen und das alte Wissen aus der Landwirtschaft erhalten, das mit der Automatisierung gerade verloren geht.
In seinem in der deutschen Ausgabe märchenhaft illustrierten Buch von üppigen 670 Seiten stellt der amerikanische Autor mit zwei Brüdern zugleich zwei Seiten einer Medaille gegenüber, bringt Licht und Dunkelheit, Aufstieg und Abstieg, Gesundheit und psychische Krankheit als Motive ein. Der systemkritische Bruder nimmt besonders den schimmernden Rand des Szenarios wahr, in dem man den Rand der Gesellschaft oder auch den Rand der Realität sehen könnte.
Josh Weil war als Jugendlicher in Russland als Austauschschüler und kommt mit seinem utopischen Roman eines Bruderkonflikts der russischen Seele erstaunlich nahe. Diese Seele enthält jedoch einen amerikanischen Kern; denn seine Figuren kennen amerikanische Truthähne, Rugby und Kordeln mit Metallspitzen anstelle von Krawatten. Bei Weil scheint alles schön und gut zu sein, solange die Russen wenigstens in Details dem amerikanischen Traum nacheifern.
January 26, 2020
Passing by the turnoff to The Dachas, peering out at the tops of the billboards, their bright colors splashed above the dark pines, he knew this: His Zinusha was wrong. [The decision not to work] was a choice. It always had been. To roll over in bed and go back to sleep, to stay out drinking one hour move, to steal that first sun-warmed strawberry from some roadside field, to eat half a bowl of kasha and put the rest away for lunch, to scrape it onto the plates of your kids, to get up and leave for work before your wife could notice you'd had no breakfast at all, to accept the way things were, to fight to change them for those around you, to slip quietly to the side--it all led back to some decision. Who is to say which is the right one? In the rearview mirror, the driver's eyes flickered to Yarik. He wondered if he'd spoken it out loud. Of course, he thought, people said which was right all the time, people in power. And some listened to them, and some didn't, and that was a choice, too.
~~Lake Onega features heavily in Weil's novel. The city of Petroplavilsk, however, is fictional.
Weil brings us an alternate reality of Russia--where satellites dragging long mirrors orbit earth, reflecting the sun when it should be "night". Russians work 12 hour, around the clock shifts in this never-ending daytime. The Consortium constructs a giant (and constantly growing) greenhouse to boost agricultural production. Workers nickname the Oranzheria the "great glass sea".
Weil's writing is densely poetic, and beautiful to read at times. The story arc bogged down for me at multiple points though, and 470 pages felt ambitious, considering the story to be told. I understand the contrast between the twins Yarik and Dima...but Dima annoyed me SO much by the end of the novel. Perhaps he had diagnosed mental illness, worsened by the unnatural lack of seasons. Or perhaps his lethargy is symbolic of a larger theme that I just didn't grasp. But in the end I was just frustrated by his inertia. Given 3.5 stars or a rating of "Very Good". This is definitely a novel and author worth checking out, especially if you are a fan of Russian culture.
Favorite quote: Dusk to dawn the city was eerie with a luminescence like a storm-smothered day with shadows sharp as noon. The planners had hoped a people used to the north's white nights might adapt with ease, that it would feel little different from summer's solstice: the long wait for dusk, the anxiousness that built by the hour until at last the sliver of night would drop and puncture it, pressure whooshing out like the long day's sigh. Except beneath the zerkala there was no puncture, no release. Not even summer's few hours of dark. And in the fall, the cold days drew behind them no blanket of night. Winter never grew its black coat. And what was there for spring to shed? From what would it wake?
~~Lake Onega features heavily in Weil's novel. The city of Petroplavilsk, however, is fictional.
Weil brings us an alternate reality of Russia--where satellites dragging long mirrors orbit earth, reflecting the sun when it should be "night". Russians work 12 hour, around the clock shifts in this never-ending daytime. The Consortium constructs a giant (and constantly growing) greenhouse to boost agricultural production. Workers nickname the Oranzheria the "great glass sea".
Weil's writing is densely poetic, and beautiful to read at times. The story arc bogged down for me at multiple points though, and 470 pages felt ambitious, considering the story to be told. I understand the contrast between the twins Yarik and Dima...but Dima annoyed me SO much by the end of the novel. Perhaps he had diagnosed mental illness, worsened by the unnatural lack of seasons. Or perhaps his lethargy is symbolic of a larger theme that I just didn't grasp. But in the end I was just frustrated by his inertia. Given 3.5 stars or a rating of "Very Good". This is definitely a novel and author worth checking out, especially if you are a fan of Russian culture.
Favorite quote: Dusk to dawn the city was eerie with a luminescence like a storm-smothered day with shadows sharp as noon. The planners had hoped a people used to the north's white nights might adapt with ease, that it would feel little different from summer's solstice: the long wait for dusk, the anxiousness that built by the hour until at last the sliver of night would drop and puncture it, pressure whooshing out like the long day's sigh. Except beneath the zerkala there was no puncture, no release. Not even summer's few hours of dark. And in the fall, the cold days drew behind them no blanket of night. Winter never grew its black coat. And what was there for spring to shed? From what would it wake?
June 15, 2015
Debut novel - an epic tragedy of brotherly love boldly swathed in the magic of Russian folklore and set against the backdrop of an all-too-real alternate present.
Twin brothers Yarik and Dima have been inseparable since childhood. Living on their uncle's farm after the death of their father, the boys once spent their days in collective fields, their nights spellbound by their uncle's mythic tales. Years later, the two men labor side by side at the Oranzheria, a sea of glass - the largest greenhouse in the world - that sprawls over vast acres of cropland. Lit by mirrors orbiting in space, the glass sea ensnares the citizens of Petroplavilsk in perpetual daylight and constant productivity, leaving the twins with only work in common - stalwart Yarik married with children, burdened by responsibility; dreamer Dima living alone with his mother and rooster, wistfully planning the brothers' return to their uncle's land.
But an encounter with the Oranzheria's oligarch owner changes them forever. Dima drifts into a laborless life of bare subsistence, while Yarik begins a headspinning ascent from promotion to promotion until both men become poster boys for opposing ideologies, pawns at the center of conspiracies and deceptions that threaten to destroy not only the lives of those they love, but the very love that has bonded the brothers since birth.
This is a breathtakingly ambitious novel of love, loss, and light, set amid a spellbinding vision of an alternative Russia as stirring as it is profound.
All Dima wants is to live and work side by side with his twin brother Yarik on what used to be their uncles farm. They are working at the great glass sea side by side, working on saving the money to buy back their uncles farm, until Yarik starts getting promoted and Dima quits. Dima is a dreamer and ends up being used by two different groups as their 'poster boy' for a revolution. Yarik becomes the 'poster boy' for the opposite ideology.
In this world mirrors orbit in space that shine down on a Russian city giving it perpetual daylight. As more and more mirrors go up, the swath of sunlight grows. Everyone now works 12 hour days 7 days a week. Plants had to be reengineered so they could grow in continuous daylight. Animals are confused by the perpetual daylight as well.
We follow the brothers as Dima seems to be losing his mind as he loses his brother.
Twin brothers Yarik and Dima have been inseparable since childhood. Living on their uncle's farm after the death of their father, the boys once spent their days in collective fields, their nights spellbound by their uncle's mythic tales. Years later, the two men labor side by side at the Oranzheria, a sea of glass - the largest greenhouse in the world - that sprawls over vast acres of cropland. Lit by mirrors orbiting in space, the glass sea ensnares the citizens of Petroplavilsk in perpetual daylight and constant productivity, leaving the twins with only work in common - stalwart Yarik married with children, burdened by responsibility; dreamer Dima living alone with his mother and rooster, wistfully planning the brothers' return to their uncle's land.
But an encounter with the Oranzheria's oligarch owner changes them forever. Dima drifts into a laborless life of bare subsistence, while Yarik begins a headspinning ascent from promotion to promotion until both men become poster boys for opposing ideologies, pawns at the center of conspiracies and deceptions that threaten to destroy not only the lives of those they love, but the very love that has bonded the brothers since birth.
This is a breathtakingly ambitious novel of love, loss, and light, set amid a spellbinding vision of an alternative Russia as stirring as it is profound.
All Dima wants is to live and work side by side with his twin brother Yarik on what used to be their uncles farm. They are working at the great glass sea side by side, working on saving the money to buy back their uncles farm, until Yarik starts getting promoted and Dima quits. Dima is a dreamer and ends up being used by two different groups as their 'poster boy' for a revolution. Yarik becomes the 'poster boy' for the opposite ideology.
In this world mirrors orbit in space that shine down on a Russian city giving it perpetual daylight. As more and more mirrors go up, the swath of sunlight grows. Everyone now works 12 hour days 7 days a week. Plants had to be reengineered so they could grow in continuous daylight. Animals are confused by the perpetual daylight as well.
We follow the brothers as Dima seems to be losing his mind as he loses his brother.
January 30, 2015
I finished my second book, "The Great Glass Sea." It feels like it took me forever to read this book. However, after finishing this book, I LOVE IT! It was a nice step up from the easy-to-read YA that seems so popular nowadays (though I love it, too). There were a few times I felt the author could have omitted some description of the surroundings. It felt too interjected at some points. But otherwise, I love how descriptive the book was; it painted such a beautiful scene.
The two brothers are in conflict with how they each live their lives, and I found myself looking at the positive points of each brother, as well as the negatives. They were each right in how they lived their own lives. It has a political, dystopian theme to the story which is something I always enjoy. My imagination was evoked as I read about Russia, the brothers, their differing families, and the townspeople and how they interact with this new Oranzheria.
So, even though this took some time to read due to the authors's descriptiveness, it was well worth the immersion into such a novel. I look forward to reading any other publications by John Weil.
The two brothers are in conflict with how they each live their lives, and I found myself looking at the positive points of each brother, as well as the negatives. They were each right in how they lived their own lives. It has a political, dystopian theme to the story which is something I always enjoy. My imagination was evoked as I read about Russia, the brothers, their differing families, and the townspeople and how they interact with this new Oranzheria.
So, even though this took some time to read due to the authors's descriptiveness, it was well worth the immersion into such a novel. I look forward to reading any other publications by John Weil.
December 31, 2014
Despite this going on far too long (about 1/3 could have been cut and this would have easily been a 5 star), I enjoyed entering this world. Even the interspersed (untranslated) Russian words didn't disrupt the read, nor did it feel as pretentious as it does in, say, a Cara Black mystery.
The Great Glass Sea is a gigantic, city-sized greenhouse created by a Russian oligarch, making use of an array of solar panels that reflect the sun back at the earth so there's no differential between night and day, thus increasing productivity and the ability for humans to work around the clock. It would have been a better read had that disruption been explored a little more, but the overriding theme here is the battle between (failed) Communism and Capitalism. The twins and how their lives diverge is almost like that of the brothers in Lahiri's The Lowland, and once again it's difficult to tell whose life is the better.
ARC provided by publisher.
The Great Glass Sea is a gigantic, city-sized greenhouse created by a Russian oligarch, making use of an array of solar panels that reflect the sun back at the earth so there's no differential between night and day, thus increasing productivity and the ability for humans to work around the clock. It would have been a better read had that disruption been explored a little more, but the overriding theme here is the battle between (failed) Communism and Capitalism. The twins and how their lives diverge is almost like that of the brothers in Lahiri's The Lowland, and once again it's difficult to tell whose life is the better.
ARC provided by publisher.
July 27, 2014
*Provided through Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ Giveaway!*
The Great Glass Sea is definitely a complex work and was intended to be. It's about two twin brothers in a slightly different Russia who grow up entirely codependent, surviving their family troubles by listening to their uncle's Old Russian folktales about Baba Yaga and Chudo Yudo. Their lives take different turns, however, when one gets married and their are faced with work in the giant greenhouse that is lit 24/7 with giant mirror satellites.
It's impressive that this work that is so Russian not written by one, frankly. I appreciated his beautiful prose, even though the work as a whole didn't quite leave a dent on my soul. The biggest reason I didn't give the book more stars is because I personally hate books that end in a moral stalemate. At the end, you aren't sure which brother is right and which brother is wrong and it's a little bit of both.
The Great Glass Sea is definitely a complex work and was intended to be. It's about two twin brothers in a slightly different Russia who grow up entirely codependent, surviving their family troubles by listening to their uncle's Old Russian folktales about Baba Yaga and Chudo Yudo. Their lives take different turns, however, when one gets married and their are faced with work in the giant greenhouse that is lit 24/7 with giant mirror satellites.
It's impressive that this work that is so Russian not written by one, frankly. I appreciated his beautiful prose, even though the work as a whole didn't quite leave a dent on my soul. The biggest reason I didn't give the book more stars is because I personally hate books that end in a moral stalemate. At the end, you aren't sure which brother is right and which brother is wrong and it's a little bit of both.
August 16, 2014
It’s difficult to write a comprehensive yet succinct critique of a work by someone who understands storytelling from the bones outward, who writes unsentimentally about a place he loves and uses exquisite language while doing it. That’s my particular challenge with Josh Weil’s literary novel The Great Glass Sea.
I’m reviewing The Great Glass Sea for our Edge of the Universe column because the springboard for the story is an audacious SF what-if: What if orbiting space mirrors could provide 24 hours of light to an agricultural area on earth? What if endless acres of farmland could be sheltered from the elements of winter under huge greenhouses, a sea of glass, and crops could be grown year round? This is the starting point of Weil’s thoughtful, elegiac novel about Russia, his lyrical character study of two broth... Read More:
I’m reviewing The Great Glass Sea for our Edge of the Universe column because the springboard for the story is an audacious SF what-if: What if orbiting space mirrors could provide 24 hours of light to an agricultural area on earth? What if endless acres of farmland could be sheltered from the elements of winter under huge greenhouses, a sea of glass, and crops could be grown year round? This is the starting point of Weil’s thoughtful, elegiac novel about Russia, his lyrical character study of two broth... Read More:
October 3, 2017
I found this novel mesmerizing. Josh Weil hits and holds an alchemical vein of poetically nostalgic Slavic melancholy; twin brothers who are archetypally both intertwined and at catastrophic odds (Cain & Abel, Vali & Sugriva, Romulus and Remus); oligarchic and inhumane capitalists, rotted-through state communists, and exuberantly narcissistic anarchists; and the eternally opposed human impulses to nest in childhood's familiar world versus to separate and claim one's own adulthood. With deep empathy and on a dramatically mythic scale that hews disquietingly close to twenty-first century realities, The Great Glass Sea is 470 pages a reader will devour in a ravenous binge, then immediately hunger for a second read. I will be recommending this very highly to my book group.
I wonder whether many other readers connected the novel's title to the hypnotizing glass sea into which screen-bound humans now sink their days and nights...
I wonder whether many other readers connected the novel's title to the hypnotizing glass sea into which screen-bound humans now sink their days and nights...
September 9, 2014
I received this amazing book as part of the Powell's Indiespensable book series. Josh Weil has written a novel set in a near-future alternative Russia which features a huge greenhouse structure continuously lit from space by large orbiting mirrors. Although the modified farmland is incredibly productive, the cost of so altering the natural life cycle for both animals and people is enormous. The twin brother protagonists take very different paths through this strange new Russia. Weil has written a modern fable that is as beautiful as it is heartbreaking in language that simply could not be any lovelier. This book takes a considerable investment in time and concentration to absorb, but it is well worth the effort.
June 18, 2021
I often image the space in a forest from ground to treetop as an underwater sea so I was immediately captivated by the imagery of a giant greenhouse as a great glass sea. That was the easy part! This book is complex and well worth some devoted reading time. Satellite mirrors convey sunlight into dark of Russia where an immense glass ceiling is rolled out by workers 7 days a week, transforming landscape into greenhouse and altering everything in its path. Two brothers follow a poetic path of deep connection and deep rift when the glass sea, philosophy and others come between them. Beautiful drawings that look like engravings open each chapter.
January 16, 2015
The lush attention to both the exterior world and the characters' interior world is as beautifully rendered here as in Weil's New Valley collection. But the story itself is so much more layered and rich than even those novellas had been. I was gripped completely by the depiction of love--between brothers, between uncles and nephews, mothers and sons, sons and fathers, chance encounters. And that such multi-faceted social critique could exist within all of this, and not feel pasted on, or feel like the transparent purpose of the narrative, is very admirable. As awful and transparent as Dave Eggers' The Circle was, this is the opposite. This is a reminder of why we tell stories.
May 7, 2015
I had been wanting to read THE GREAT GLASS SEA for a long time when I finally found a copy in a wonderful bookstore. I almost worried the story wouldn't live up to my yearning to read it. But it is amazing-- a blend of folk tale, children's stories, dark realism, speculative glimpses at the near future, and a genuine account of the type of bond that can never be kept close enough. The prose is lyrical and powerful, and the scenes are well-crafted. I highly recommend this book.
November 5, 2014
The Great Glass Sea" by Josh Weil is a very unique book that I thoroughly enjoyed. It's a mix of folklore, history, sci-fi, dystopia, and overall good writing. It's a complex story with characters who are anything but one dimensional as they take on life in a dystopian Russia. Once I found the rhythm of the flow, I was hooked. This is a book that needs to be read as if it is being told to you by a masterful storyteller.
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