Vodka [Paperback]

As someone who followed events closely at the time, and have been dealing with Russia/CIS since, I found that this book did intrigue me. Yes, Starling does explains things but if you know nothing, or very little, about events then this is essential.

The book combines the elements of an historic work, a crime novel and a look at life in another culture. Maybe that is the weakness as he tries to do too much. At certain times you do think that you are not following a coherent work. Some plotlines are left unfulfilled for longer periods than necessary.

I would recommend this to anyone who wants to know what life was like in Moscow at the time. For those looking for a great detective novel, you will feel unrewarded. However it is still a good, if overlong, book.

A

So, as with the Spice on Herbert's Dune, he who controls vodka controls Russia. This is why, in the immediate days after the fall of communism - which has left the economy in ruins, the rouble worthless and vodka as the only currency (people are healed with it; people are tortured with it; people's salaries are paid in it; peopled are bribed with it) - the largest distillery in the country, Red October, is selected as the vehicle to lead the push for privatisation. The quick success of the venture, the selling of such a national symbol, is hoped to convince the Russian people that western capitalism is the only way forward. To organise the privatisation, American banker Alice Liddell is brought in. However, despite her experience the task will not be easy. The Russian people - who "enchant with their arts and inspire with their courage, but have horror, tragedy and drunkenness spiralling through their genes" - are sceptical and thus resistant, and rival mafiya gangs are busy vying for control of the city, leeching off the power vacuum. Lev, the charismatic leader of one of the gangs, currently owns Red October, and Alice - whose life, like that of Russia, is also torn between new and old, comfort and danger, sanity and madness - must first get past him. The great bear, after the fall of the old regime, is stumbling blind, dangerously, into its future, and chaos and uncertainty are the only norms. So, little attention is paid when the body of a child is pulled from the icy Moscow River. And a second. And then a third.

The plot of Vodka is very hard to pin down, because it is a multi-stranded, multi-plotted Janus of a book. In a way, the plot itself is Russia; it exemplifies Russia in myriad ways. Starling's examination of a country lost in its own wilderness is absolutely astounding. I have never been so struck by wonderful lines such as, "like vodka, the onion is another perfect symbol of Russia. Onions have many layers; and the more you peel away, the more you weep."

Alice, an outsider who finds herself adrift in a huge confusing land, is a perfect internal reflection of the country itself, and the book is crammed full of other instances of symbolism and metaphor far too clever to be written about in this small space. Set during 100 days in the winter of 1991 (and with one chapter per day, that makes it a meaty tome), it is a tumbleweed of violence, emotion, politics and transition blowing down an icy, deserted street. It is big and complex, panoramic and epic.

The narrative structure too is incredible: it expands and contracts like a Chinese finger-trap as the focus is placed on the political big picture, the distillery and the politick, and then successively switched onto the developing relationship between Alice and Lev (which is less convincing in actuality than it is as a progressive metaphor), and the bleak investigation by a determined Estonian policeman into the child murders. The structure breathes and propels you along with the waves of pace created by the shifts of that focus. A big book it may be, but overlong it is not, and fascinating it is to the final word.

Starling's vision is powerful and all-encompassing, and there are more than enough profound and striking ruminations on the nature of Russia (and vodka!) to fill a small notebook. One of my favourites is, "There is no such thing as Russian cuisine, only things that go well with vodka."!

The portrait of a country he clearly adores is a remarkable achievement. It is a country where the only system of law that works is the rule of the mafiya. The politicians are corrupt, and the gang-leaders are the only people of any honour - and it is an honour they stick to with pride. Lev, portrayed as he is almost to be the "hero" of the piece, is incensed when a rival Chechen gang breaks the code and involves innocent members of the public, and his retribution is swift and deadly. It is a world turned on its head, and it is entirely convincing. In all honesty, I am awed by Starling's immense achievement. I ache for more. Apparently, it's on its way.

The ending, too, is perfect. As the novel ends, with the same lines as it began, Starling seals tight this vast echo-chamber of a novel and sends resonances eddying through the body of it; the serpent eats its own tail; the monster consumes itself, and the book - and Russia - seems to come full circle. As a Russian official puts it: "every Russian crime is cannibalistic to some extent; no people feed on and off each other more than the Russians."