A unique work of fiction from the troubled streets of Ukraine, giving invaluable testimony to the new history unfolding in the nation鈥檚 post-independence years.
This captivating book is Serhiy Zhadan鈥檚 ode to Kharkiv, the traditionally Russian-speaking city in Eastern Ukraine where he makes his home. A leader among Ukrainian post鈥慽ndependence authors, Zhadan employs both prose and poetry to address the disillusionment, complications, and complexities that have marked Ukrainian life in the decades following the Soviet Union鈥檚 collapse. His novel provides an extraordinary depiction of the lives of working-class Ukrainians struggling against an implacable fate: the road forward seems blocked at every turn by demagogic forces and remnants of the Russian past. Zhadan鈥檚 nine interconnected stories and accompanying poems are set in a city both representative and unusual, and his characters are simultaneously familiar and strange. Following a kind of magical-realist logic, his stories expose the grit and burden of stalled lives, the universal desire for intimacy, and a wistful realization of the off-kilter and even perverse nature of love.
Serhiy Zhadan (23 August 1974 in Starobilsk, Luhansk region, Ukraine) is a contemporary Ukrainian novelist, writer, essayist, poet, translator, musician and public figure. Among his most notable works are novels Depeche Mode (2004, translated into into English in 2013 by Glagoslav Publications), Anarchy in the UKR (2005, translation into English is yet to come), Voroshilovgrad (2010, translated into into English in 2016 by Deep Vellum Publishing) and Orphanage (2017, translation into English forthcoming in 2020 by Yale University Press) as well as collection of short stories and poems Mesopotamia (2014, English translation by Yale University Press in 2018).
Please note that this English-language profile is intended for all own literary works of Serhiy Zhadan. For works of other authors translated into Ukrainian from a different language by Zhadan, please add both this profile (as a second author) as well as his Ukrainian-language profile: 小械褉谐褨泄 袞邪写邪薪 (as a third author)
gr奴ti aprakst墨t veidu, k膩d膩 vi艈拧 raksta savus darbus. t膩 nav ne kom膿dija, ne groteska. bet kaut kas pa vidu un p膩ri 拧墨m ab膩m robe啪膩m. saliku gr膩matu pilnu ar l墨mlapi艈膩m pie viet膩m, ko grib膿tos nocit膿t. ne tikai t膩p膿c, ka j膿dz墨gi. visvair膩k t膩p膿c, ka skaisti.
'Mesopotamia' by Serhiy Zhadan is an unpleasant book to read for me at the same time it is seemingly a brilliant insider's expos茅 by the author. Through nine short stories, slightly interconnected by brief walk-ons of a character from the previous chapter, the author gives a domestic tour of a Ukrainian city called Kharkiv and its people. The author uses his stories of Kharkiv residents like an anthropologist studying the ancient cultural artifacts of Mesopotamia.
The book has been translated into English and it's excellently done by the translators Reilly Costigan-Humes and Isaac Stackhouse Wheeler. The prose is descriptively wonderful and the pacing of the action is perfect. It is an excellent collection of domestic short stories. But I dislike these characters.
The main characters, all male, grew up and lived through the Soviet totalitarian period over Ukraine before the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, but that era and the collapse are not in these stories except in an occasional mention. The stories appear to be about the social aftermath of the fall of totalitarian control over urban cities. The characters' ability to move past that time seems to be impaired by a general lack of ambition and imagination. They work apathetically at their jobs and relationships, concentrating mostly on incel-like personal life dramas and self-centered sex. And getting drunk a lot. These are stories about men who never seem to be able to rise above their figurative penises in all of its representative forms, frankly, whether it's about their need for sex from women whom they only seem to view as walking vaginas (completely unaware of their shallow understanding of women) or if it's about social scenes with family or people who are apparently, maybe, frenemies, instead of true friends. Or maybe it's simply yet another representation of what appears to be a worldwide affliction of the stifled Male Psyche.
The main characters are like some of the fortyish-year-old men who were stuck in the 1950's era of their youth whom I met when I was in my twenties in the 1970's. They wore loud perfume, sad too-young clothes, out-of-date 1950's 'teen' hairstyles (similar to Wolverine) and patriarchal attitudes which had caused them a minimum of two divorces. So far at that time. I noticed male assholes still carrying on in these male social jerk-off circles at least into the 1990's in Las Vegas! Omg, and how they suffer, not understanding why their relationships fail and why their lives feel unsatisfied and unfulfilled!
I'm a lot more harsh than the author, gentle reader. The stories, while not showing any love that I noticed towards these men, do show how the social stagnation created by a totalitarian government lives on in the minds of urban men who have been released from the strangulation leash of the Soviet Union. I am wondering about what to expect from China now that that country is returning to totalitarianism. Social control leads often to Big Brother control. But the lesson here is these totalitarian governments do not need to involve the use of visible control mechanisms anymore after they fall. If totalitarian communist governments can do this, I suspect religious theologies are much worse, as they impose internal strangulation dog leashes as well as external. Half of Afghanistan's population fully support the Taliban again twenty years later after that government fell previously...I guess theology-addicted mentalities will always love their leashes -and lashings - restraints on some mental level we citizens of democracies cannot understand.
"Dz墨ve nekad nedod garantijas, p膩rsvar膩 t膩 l奴dz tic膿t uz v膩rda." (212. lpp) T膩pat ir ar 拧o gr膩matu. Garantiju nek膩du, bet 募oti ticama un saj奴tama uz v膩rda. Baud膩ma. Ar ma艈膩m un 膩rk膩rt墨gu ieju拧anos (vismaz man t膩 bij'). Lasot 拧o darbu, cer墨gi un bezcer墨gi staig膩ju varo艈iem l墨dzi, gandr墨z vai fiziski uz savas 膩das piedz墨vojot notikumus, kuros vi艈i ir iek募uvu拧i. 9 st膩sti par jauniem v墨rie拧iem, 鈥� virkne iem墨l膿拧anos, virkne vil拧anos. 幕oti dz墨va gr膩mata. Dz墨va valoda, notikumi. Dr奴mums mijas ar erotiku, dzeja ar n膩vi, laiks ar bezcer墨giem zaud膿jumiem, iem墨l膿拧an膩s ar tuk拧umu.
Consisting of prose in its first part and poetry in its second part, "Mesopotamia" contains the juxtaposition that I can only find the writing of a very select group of authors. Serhiy Zhadan is one of the authors that truly masters the art of describing this characteristically Central/Eastern European juxtaposition to his audience: The juxtaposition of decay and this pure, "carpe diem" dynamism.
Where Zhadan truly adds his signature, is in the enchanting veil of magical realism which envelop every single line in "Mesopotamia". Also due to the fact that the stories are set in Zhadan's home turf of Kharkiv, the reader is provided with an atmosphere that really sucks her/him in.
Furthermore this book has most definitely proven to me why Ukraine's second biggest city is to be considered it's intellectual capital and one of its cultural capitals.
Writing this review during a time wherein Kharkiv and its surroundings are under fire from the Russian army and Serhiy Zhadan has apparently joined the National Guard to defend his home, I hope and pray that the people of Kharkiv and all of Ukraine will soon enjoy the peace and liberty they deserve!
This was like walking through the perfume aisles of a Department store. There was plenty or aromas but the essence couldn't be described. The book is based in Kharkiv Ukraine but could be in any modern city. There are 9 stories and poems with the characters loosely connected by an apartment house and surrounding businesses. They are unusual short stories as they are windows into a short period of a character's life, sometimes abruptly ending. They tell of frustrated lives, loves and lost loves, wild behaviour, and the violence that surrounds or is carried out be the characters. While the book was interesting at times, only a few of the stories were memorable. Thanks to NetGalley for the copy to review.
Las膩mviela bija laba, ar interesantu perspekt墨vu uz v墨rie拧a pasauli, uz laikmetu, ar nelielu filozofisku ievirzi, bet p膩rlieku neatraujoties no realit膩tes. Tom膿r da啪reiz jutos iestr膿gusi tekst膩, bezcer墨b膩, bija saj奴ta, ka netieku uz priek拧u. Tiekot p膩ri 拧膩diem fragmentiem, las墨拧ana atkal g膩ja k膩 pa sviestu. Varb奴t t膩 bija manas uztveres vai noska艈ojuma vaina, bet varb奴t ar墨 teksta.
Nein, ich habe nichts dagegen: Ficken, saufen, pr眉geln- das war und ist die postsowjetische Ukraine und Zhadan schafft es scheinbar m眉helos, dem Stoff poetische Seiten abzugewinnen. Die unaufgeregte Sprache und der trockene Blick auf das, was ist, pr盲gen den Stil, dessen poetische Kraft nicht zuletzt der "Exotik" einer Lebenswelt entspringt, die den meisten Westeurop盲ern fremd ist. Ich las, dass es sich dabei um eine Liebeserkl盲rung Zhadans an seine Heimat handele. Nun ja, wenn eine Vergewaltigung "Liebe" ist, dann ist die Beschreibung der Vergewaltigten wom枚glich eine Liebeserkl盲rung, dann mag es stimmen. Sieht man das anders, ist es nichts als die ehrliche Bestandsaufnahme eines zivilisatorischen Zustands, der dringend zu ver盲ndern w盲re. Nun ist allerdings der Krieg dazwischen gekommen und Zhadan wird k眉nftig neue Defekte zu beschreiben haben, wenn der mal zu Ende ist. Schuld ist also nicht der Autor, wenn z.B. das Frauenbild nicht dem entspricht, was heute "politisch korrekt" w盲re; das hier entfaltete Ukraine- Bild, das eigentlich ein Charkiw- Bild ist, entspricht insgesamt einem solchen Wunschbild eher nicht. Daf眉r ist es ehrlich. So ist es eben. Die Jungs und jungen M盲nner sind, wie sie sind, nicht einmal die "professionelle Arbeitslosigkeit" aus Gr眉nden der Lust- und Antriebslosigkeit wird ausgespart, und die Frauen nehmen sich aus dem, was Rest- Menschlichkeit ist, das, was sie davon zum Leben gebrauchen k枚nnen. Insofern sind die Frauen in ihrer Hilflosigkeit wieder einmal die eigentlichen Heldinnen. W盲hrend die M盲nner dem traditionellen M盲nnlichkeitsbild verhaftet bleiben und insofern mitnichten der Zukunft zugewandt sind, sind die Frauen unverklemmt und moralisch unbeschwert in ihrer Lust und ihren Tr盲umen. So sieht die Zukunft aus. Und es werden auch nach diesem Krieg wieder die ukrainischen Frauen sein, die ihre zerst枚rten M盲nner aufbauen und 眉ber Wasser halten m眉ssen und die das schaffen werden. Anders kenne ich sie nicht.
Aber das ist Spekulation. Was vorliegt, ist literarisch eine anspruchsvolle Komposition: Der Reigen eigenst盲ndiger Erz盲hlungen wird reizvoll dadurch zusammengehalten, dass Personen, die bereits in einer der vorausgegangenen Erz盲hlungen eine Rolle spielten, als Hauptpersonen einer n盲chsten wieder auftauchen. So entfaltet sich ein Panorama von Lebensbildern, das - bei aller Gleichf枚rmigkeit "im Gro脽en" - im Einzelnen individuell und unverwechselbar ist. Man sieht, Zhadan interessiert sich nicht f眉r "das Gro脽e Ganze" oder Allgemeine. Seine Kunst besteht darin, das Individuelle verallgemeinerbar darzustellen, ohne es zu werten, ohne zu loben oder zu verurteilen. Keines dieser Leben ist besser oder schlechter als das andere. Alles ist menschlich, nichts ist "Allgemein- Menschlich", sprich, nichts wird idealisiert oder w盲re auch nur im Ansatz idealisierbar. Von daher ist das mit der Liebeserkl盲rung Quatsch, es sei denn, jemand liebt den Menschen in seiner ganzen Unvollkommenheit. Davon spricht weniger der Autor (in seinen Reden), davon sprechen vielmehr seine Texte. Das ist im Kleinen gro脽e Literatur. Als Autor ist Zhadan ein Gro脽er.
Daf眉r also gibt es eine unbedingte Leseempfehlung f眉r Leser/innen, die sich auf den Text einlassen wollen, ohne Spannung oder gro脽artige Handlungen zu erwarten. Es passiert nicht viel; es passiert gleichzeitig alles. Und der durchschnittlich- gelangweilte B眉ro- Westeurop盲er wird erschauernd davon tr盲umen, auch mal einer solchen Party beizuwohnen, von solchen Frauen an- und ausgezogen zu werden. Schon deswegen lohnt sich die Lekt眉re. Wir haben "hier bei uns" viel gewonnen, aber eben auch viel verloren. Zhadan zeigt es uns.
Ar j奴su at募auju - 10 zvaigznes. Viens no skaist膩kajiem un paties膩kajiem tekstiem, k膩ds las墨ts. Raupj拧, bet t墨rs un vij墨gs. Sav膿rpts, bet nesamudr墨ts. 沤adana darbu lieku to rom膩nu kategorij膩, kas las墨t膩ju padara par lab膩ku cilv膿ku. Nu, vismaz uz to br墨di, kam膿r cilv膿ks lasa.
Zhadan is a force. He is nothing short of a gorgeous writer capable of capturing the beautiful and painful ephemera of life--and the specific points of view--that come from a life (long or short) living in Ukraine, a place I still consider my second home. It's a shame, then, that so much of this raw, poetic, iron-laden talent is put to use constructing social words and internal universes utterly dripping with misogyny and what appears at times to be utter disdain for women. As a craftsman, Zhadan is so good. But I absolutely hated reading this. It's gross. It's a clear extension of the kind of bullshit dismissiveness of women as human beings that has normalized endemic and widespread domestic violence against women in Ukraine. My heart goes out to the female translators who had to take on this work. It must have been quite an experience to labor in the shadow of someone so lauded who thinks you are such vacuous garbage.
I was somewhat hesitant to read this given a review in World Literature Today mentioning rampant misogyny spoiling it's other virtues. It's true it has a very male viewpoint and the women are pretty much only there as objects of desire but it still was quite vivid in it's portrayal and it felt authentic to a certain lived experience. Gritty, seamy, modern Ukrainian street life and culture, these vagabonds had little in the way of material possessions but a great deal of heart and vitality. Offered me some vicarious thrills and beauty in unexpected places.
J膩, lasiet! Te citi apskatnieki jau visu pateiku拧i :)
"Run膩ja un dom膩ja t膩: galvenais ir neatskat墨ties, galvenais ir neapklust, kam膿r es ie拧u un run膩拧u, vi艈a ies l墨dzi maniem smiekliem, kam膿r man b奴s ko teikt, vi艈ai n膩ksies klaus墨ties, vi艈a aizies l墨dz galam un noklaus墨sies l墨dz galam, un 拧onakt paliks kop膩 ar mani." (164.lpp)
Man ir liels prieks, ka vispirms izlas墨ju 沤adana "Intern膩tu", pirms 姆膿ros pie 拧墨s gr膩matas, jo absol奴ti v墨los 拧aj膩 st膩stu kr膩jum膩 un, iesp膿jams, nemaz neb奴tu las墨jusi "Intern膩tu" (kurai devu 5 zvaigznes un par kuru biju absol奴ti saj奴sm膩). Piln墨gi 拧姆ita, ka "Mezopot膩miju" nav sarakst墨jis tas pats 沤adans.
Man patika tikai viens st膩sts. J膩atz墨st gan, ka otro pusi p膩rlapoju un las墨ju pa diagon膩li un 膩tri. Biju atvieglota, ka beig膩s bija dzeja, ko izlaidu pavisam (拧obr墨d dzeja man膩 dz墨v膿 nav aktu膩la).
Man person墨gi st膩stos bija p膩r膩k daudz apraksto拧膩s da募as par person膩啪u pag膩tn膿m, saist墨b膩m un vidi, l墨dz ar to 募oti iztr奴ka virz墨ba pa拧u st膩stu notikumos. Izlasot 拧姆ita, ka katram st膩stam, ja tiem iedotu dinamiku un virz墨bu, tad b奴tu bijis krietni lab膩k.
Man nudien sal奴ztu sirds, ja 沤adana gr膩matai b奴tu j膩liek viena zvaigzne, t膩p膿c lieku divas. Cer墨ba bija, p膩ris teikumus sav膩s piez墨m膿s izrakst墨ju k膩 cit膩tus, bet visp膩r墨gi 募oti moko拧i nek膩da las膩mviela.
Don't do what I did and burn through Mesopotamia like an action novel. Mesopotamia is exactly what it says in the blurb: an ode to Kharkiv, a city that even those relatively familiar with Ukraine might not know all that well. Zhadan explores the lives, loves, and losses of several mutual acquaintances in Kharkiv, many working-class, many struggling white-collar. Most of all, though, he meditates. He meditates on the timeless feel of the city, the seductions of its wild women and the antics of its wild men, the smells of its two rivers, its motley population, its kitchens' cheeses (shaped like moons). Kharkiv is a city brimming with love: Zhadan leads us through tumultuous (and, depending on your definition of incest, incestuous) love affairs and an extended metaphor in which tax collectors gather the citizens' unspent love to replenish the city. After reading Mesopotamia, you'll want to devour everything you can find about Kharkiv.
I read Mesopotamia on the heels of Andrukhovych's Perverzion and Moscoviad. They're very different beasts, which is a good thing 鈥� Ukrainian literature is not a monolith and there's no better way to dispel that misconception by reading these three together. Perverzion and Moscoviad both deal fairly substantively with what it means to be a Ukrainian, juxtaposing representations of "Ukraine" with the West (Perverzion) and the Soviet Union (Moscoviad). Mesopotamia engages somewhat in that kind of comparative dialogue: Bob Koshkin's story is oddly reminiscent of the Russian cult film 袘褉邪褌 2, with both protagonists deep-diving into 茅migr茅 communities in the United States, itself represented as a kind of jungle through racialized imagery. Both protagonists seem to be seeking some kernel of Ukrainian or Russian identity if indeed it exists; Danila Bogrov finds one, while Bob Koshkin, it appears, never stops looking. But for the most part, Mesopotamia reckons with Kharkiv on its own terms. It strives to capture the sheer color of life in Kharkiv, lending the city the undivided attention and respect worthy of a cradle of civilization. Scholars of Ukrainian national identity may either find Mesopotamia irrelevant or totally fascinating. Take your pick.
Don't expect much from Mesopotamia plot-wise. Zhadan's prose reads like poetry, which is excellent news for the striking metaphors (you'll be snapping your way through the whole novel), but he has a tendency to summarize major plot points, which throws off the pacing of the plot. The poetry at the novel's end is moving, though I am sure it is much more so in Ukrainian. If you read Mesopotamia, read it thoughtfully, and then read it again. After the second time through, you may fall so deeply in love with it that you'll never stop rereading.