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12 of 13 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Dreamscapes, 19 Dec 2002
A Werewolf Problem in Central Russia, a collection of short stories, exhibits both the joys and the challenges of reading someone as brilliantly absurd as Russia's Victor Pelevin. The tamest of these eight stories is surreal, the most complex is, at times, simply impenetrable. At times, Pelevin addresses universal themes with tremendous insight; at other times his satire is so specifically Russian that anyone not well-versed in Russian history will find the subject matter less than understandable. And, although Pelevin appears to be striving for a light mood, at least in some of the stories, the gloomy and pessimistic specter of the former Soviet Union casts its shadow over the volume as a whole.A Werewolf Problem in Central Russia can be seen as both a tribute to Dostoyevsky and as a radical departure from him, for these characters are loners who are simply not aware that they are loners. The Tarzan Swing is a Pelevin story that is very reminiscent of Dostoyevsky's story, The Double. It comes as a shock to the protagonist of Tarzan's Swing to realize that he is carrying on a conversation with a companion that might be nothing more than his shadow. Unlike The Double, however, the protagonist in Pelevin's story is never really sure if this "companion" is real or not. All of Pelevin's rather narcissistic characters wander through their post-perestroika days in a dreamlike state obsessing on the meaning of life. They exist outside of themselves and seem to take it in stride that the physical world is compromised by spatial and temporal impossibilities, that a universe exists in a teapot, that dream landscapes are superimposed on real ones and that Russia is but a sewer cover away from China. And, while Dostoyevsky's characters are bogged down by paranoid delusions, Pelevin's characters always seem to find themselves faced with the empty but ultimately self-satisfying prospect of solipsism, and they take it for granted that the world is in a kind of surreal flux. The title story tells the tale of a traveler who becomes hopelessly lost in central Russia and is transformed into a werewolf. Surprisingly, he likes it and he finds it a very liberating experience. This story, told in a linear manner, is no doubt the most accessible of the entire volume. Pelevin gives us stunning detail so we are able to feel how the character moves and smells and sees. The story's placement at the beginning of the collection provides the perfect entree to the lunacy that is Victor Pelevin's trademark. The Ontology of Childhood is more difficult to grasp, especially for those not familiar with Russian history or Russian literature, but it is a more accomplished piece of writing and showcases Pelevin's unique talent most admirably. Written in the second person, The Ontology of Childhood is a chilling recollection of growing up in a prison and blends powerful remembrances of dark pessimism with expressions of profound hope. Pelevin's uncanny ability to render eerie, off-center dreamscapes makes him the Salvador Dali of literature. He is a wordsmith who successfully mixes the sublime with the ridiculous and comes up with wildly turbulent tales that are always more than interesting and thought provoking. They are, in their essence, nothing short of great literature.
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