Blurb writers do Andrey Kurkov no favours when they compare him with authors such as John Le Carre, Gogol and Dostoevsky, the latter two being invoked on the cover of this, Kurkov's latest novel to be translated into English. Kurkov is a much lighter read than any of those, shows no sign of expecting to be taken anything like so seriously, and is a lot more fun.
In the past, Bulgakov's name has also been placed alongside Kurkov's. That was pretty ambitious too, but in the case of The Milkman in the Night there are some realistic comparisons to be made. In common with Bulgakov in
The Master And Margarita, Kurkov firmly roots surreal, absurdist events in actual streets, parks and other locations in and around a contemporary city. Kurkov's city is Kiev, Ukraine's capital and Kurkov's home. I know Kiev well. I read the novel with a streetmap to hand and never once faulted Kurkov on his geography. Perhaps surreal works best when given such a foundation.
Like Bulgakov, Kurkov satirises some genuine but nevertheless absurd political and other goings on by placing them in the space he has created between real and surreal. You may find it hard to believe that corruption and graft among Ukraine's ruling classes, police, security operatives, everyone with a service that they can sell, including priests, are really as bad as Kurkov describes. Tragically, they are. So is theft from baggage at the city's main international airport, and the degree to which superstition influences many people's lives.
But I begin to make the novel sound serious, which it is not. Kurkov has some entirely valid things to say about corruption, graft and superstition, but they are built into his story in such a way that they might scarcely be noticed by many readers. He has much affection for his characters, imperfect human beings as they all are. This is Ukraine today. For most people, life is far from easy, presenting many limitations and frustrations. Kurkov describes their lives with great care and much sympathy - people in Kiev and its outlying areas really do live like that.
So where does the surrealism come in? The jacket blurb hints at it and to tell more might spoil the story. I will mention, however, that another feature that echoes Master and Margarita is a cat that seems to have supernatural qualities. He is a modest fellow, though, doesn't stretch our credibility by speaking, and is selflessly benevolent.
As with many works translated from Russian, the uninitiated reader will struggle at times with names. Hardest of all is when Volodka (a Ukrainian pet name) suddenly becomes, just once, Vladimir (the Russian version of his given name). The `our Yulia', variously Yulechka, referred to is the former Prime Minister and Presidential candidate Yulia Timoshenko, but many readers might not guess. Nikochka will surprise as a pet name for Veronika, and so on. To know that pelmeni is similar to ravioli and that Soviet champagne is a real and much favoured beverage, even in our own time, may be helpful to some. And there are some loose ends in the story that are never tied up - one even wonders why some events are described at all. Kurkov seems to be aware of that problem, writing that his story is ongoing, with some aspects of it still not understood by himself. Is he suggesting there might be a sequel? To read about the next phase in the lives of some of his characters would be interesting, but the story as it stands is brought to a more or less satisfactory conclusion.