Olga GrushinRezensionen

Anatoly Sukhanov is a Soviet apparatchik, editor of Moscow's Art of the World magazine and author of such Party-approved works as "Surrealism and other Western "Isms" as Manifestations of Capitalist Insolvency". As the novel begins, in a Soviet Union shortly after the ascension of Gorbachev, he is simply another soulless Soviet official ready to be mocked and condemned by another Russian novelist. As the novel unfolds, however, that is not what happens. As glasnost begins to thaw the political environment around him, Sukhanov's past, which he has long frozen out of his consciousness, also thaws and bubbles up first through his dreams, then takes over his waking life as he suffers what appears to be a nervous breakdown.

Grushin's novel ultimately raises interesting questions. In a totalitarian society, is it more admirable to stay true to yourself, or to do what you must to provide for those you love? If it is admirable to risk severe hardship for your ideals, does that remain the case when your family shares your fate with you? And what cost can those choices exact?

A very good book, especially if you have an interest in art and Russia.

4.5

Gosh that was good. When is a fairy tale not a fairy tale? And what happens when the fairy tale ends? What if you thought you were in a fairy tale and it wasn't what you expected? Happily ever after only happens in fairy tales, right? But what happens when that "happily ever after " wears off and you have to face reality. To face your own flaws and problems, to quit hiding behind a fairy tale idea of what the world should be. To discover that maybe it wasn't love but escape or impossible dreams.

On the surface, this is a modern telling of the aftermath of Cinderella’s wedding to Prince Charming, one in which the prince cheats on his young wife, they angrily separate, and she summons a witch to get revenge on him. That may not sound terribly imaginative, but the way Grushin tells the story, blending fantasy with reality and infusing it with psychological insights along the way, makes it an enjoyable read. I loved how she added nuance to all of the characters, showing different sides to the prince, the young woman he marries after an enchanted ball (who is the narrator of the story), her two stepsisters, the fairy godmother, and the wicked witch. I also loved how she cleverly shifted the traditional fairytale setting into the present in a gradual way without ever explaining it, which justified the out of order storytelling that I didn’t care much for initially. The little bits of bawdiness, the humor, and the portrait of the struggle of a marriage that’s not working all kept it entertaining.

I confess that other elements didn’t work as well for me, such as the side story of the two mice and their ancestors who live with them, which I thought didn’t add anything. There were points at which I thought the fantasy aspects sprawled and the reality aspects were repetitive, as there are a lot of randy, adulterous men here. Getting the perspective of an intelligent woman for both the traditional fairy tale and a modern day marriage, the quality of the writing, and not knowing what each new chapter would bring all won me over though. Grushin is a joy to read, and I like the breadth that she shows, with each of her books being unique.

36.81%: Time to admit I'm bored

I've always loved "fractured" fairy tales, fairy tales rewritten for modern times and continuations...I find them so imaginative!

Olga Grushin has taken the story of Cinderella and extended it. It is 13.5 years since her wedding to the prince, she has two kids, no sign of love from her husband and is about as far from "happily ever after" as she can get. So, she decides to take action. Ms. Grushin does an amazing job of portraying a modern woman through her Cinderella character. She also blurs the lines between fairy tales and real life in a most satisfying way. Very imaginative and creative!

I don't know how to describe this book. the world was amazing the characters superb. it was so great. and I'm still thinking about it a week later.

The Charmed Wife by Olga Grushin is the story of Cinderella after her supposed happy ending, which turns out to have been not so happy after all. The book ties other fairytales into one magical world, and is a beautiful and heartbreaking story with a twist that I definitely didn't see coming.

The story is intensely emotional. It's about a woman who is unhappy in her marriage, and Grushin expertly creates the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped in a relationship. She uses magic and fairytale tropes to paint a moving picture of a woman in crisis, experiencing a breakdown, and the unravelling of a marriage.

The writing is stunningly beautiful. At times it felt a little too flowery, but for the most part it set the scene perfectly. There's a dreamlike quality to the whole book, which as you progress through the story, makes more and more sense. About halfway/three quarters of the way through things start to feel very trippy, with the lines between reality and fantasy blurring. The whole book is very clever, and I found the ending satisfying.

I really liked all of the scenes with the witch and the fairy godmother, and the memories of Cinderella's marriage. I struggled a bit with the interspersed stories about Cinderella's mice. I felt like I was reading two different books at the same time, and at times the mouse sections felt weirdly 'disney' in an otherwise very beautiful and adult tale. I don't read much literary fiction, though, so I'm wondering if there were metaphors and analogies there that I just missed.

If you like your fairytale retellings with a more adult twist, or are a fan of literary fiction, this book is for you.

What a keen observation on society through the prism of fairy tales (and so much more plot-wise!...).

I am not one for fantasy usually, but I am very partial to Olga Grushin, and will readily read whatever she writes - so far, including this novel, without any disappointment. So even though I encountered fantasy in the form of fairy tale world from page one, I instinctively knew that what she writes has to be uncommonly special and highly imaginative - which was soon proven: what with the Fairy Godmother transformation, for once, and that of the Witch, and how about the two pet mice - or, rather, the generation of them (!) and their story that parallels our human one so much!!!... So many plot lines intertwined - with the one, of course, prominent and steady throughout, and the insights made me gasp with wonder at times...

It starts and runs as a fairy tale with a parallel undercurrent: maturing, coming of age story - with all the emotional zigzags accompanying it... On the surface, it's just an unusual interpretation of well known fairy tales (one in particular), but of course it's so much more than that, as we soon find out. Extraordinary (and, sadly, ordinary at the same time) tale of Cinderella transformation - to princess - (back) to maid - to her own person! (All with the hardly predictable reasons behind these metamorphoses). A woman emerges whose "fairy tale" existence "has proven to be a sham", in a most poignant way... That's what happens even in a fairy tale: "Joy leaks out when there are enough cracks". But the end here is just the beginning!...

"For the first minute or two, I do nothing but luxuriate in the smell of the study. It is my favorite smell in the world, a noble smell..." (page 17) Wow. The way Grushin writes is dazzling, her descriptions mesmerize, the memory of her prose is unforgettable and rich.
Before I had even reached half-way through this book, I went looking for her other two books. This is my new favorite for 2016!

"For the first minute or two, I do nothing but luxuriate in the smell of the study. It is my favorite smell in the world, a noble smell..." (page 17) Wow. The way Grushin writes is dazzling, her descriptions mesmerize, the memory of her prose is unforgettable and rich.
Before I had even reached half-way through this book, I went looking for her other two books. This is my new favorite for 2016!

Olga Grushin's "The Charmed Wife" will certainly charm readers who love flipped fairy tales, which I do. I am a huge fan of Margaret Atwood's fairy tales gone awry, or fairy tales from a woman's perspective. It was very funny: I laughed a lot. The novel was also quite original; I have never read anything like it. It turned out to be a lot more psychological than, say, a Jasper Fforde Nursery Crime novel, which is pure humor from beginning to end.

The book begins with a standard Cinderella story, only "Cinderella" (we don't know her name and she is a first-person narrator) is in her mid-30s, has two kids, and is completely over her Happily Ever After. Her prince is driving her crazy, as is her palace, with singing maids, chandeliers that clink all by themselves, talking teapots, that whole Disneyesque scene. She sneaks out of the palace in the dead of night and looks for a witch to curse Prince Charming, whose name is Roland. The witch wants to know the whole backstory, so "Cinderella" reveals all, little by little.

There is a parallel story line about "Cinderella's" pet mice, Nibbles and Brie, which begins as a wonderful parody but began to bore me pretty early on in the book.

When "Cinderella" begins to question everything about her marriage, Grushkin first has her main character take various extreme fairy-tale measures to lift the curse (there isn't a curse) such as going on long weird quests (this was quite funny) and making shirts out of nettles. All of this happens in the flashback accounts.

After the witch agrees to help, the Cinderella storyline comes full circle and other fairy tale story lines get woven into the narrative, and finally, all the fairy tale stuff falls away and reality begins to encroach, little by little.

This is a genius plot device, dropping the fairy tale elements of a novel until the reader lands in a straight historical fiction tale in a real place when the narrator wakes up from her fairytale dream. The story behind the story is all too familiar to real women everywhere. It was a fun read, but I was lost and unsettled for too many pages. I needed more explanations during about the last fourth of the novel.

I received an advanced readers copy of this book from the publisher and Netgalley and was encouraged to submit an honest review.

I guess like others here, my first thought was not as good as...that's the trouble with creating a perfect work of art, one is haunted by it forever.

May I say this is 'not as good' but still SO, SO very good, that we are talking about giving this nine stars out of five, where we might have given Sukhanov ten.

Maybe the very big difference, the thing that makes one intuitively side with Sukhanov is that this novel has no one great character, rather, a group share centre stage equally. If you ask me, this just goes to show Grushin can do both of these constructions equally well. I think I was greedy to sink myself into a big character, the way one is greedy in one's younger years to be immersed in the enormity of The Russian Novel. The longer the better. The bigger the better. But you grow up and the finesse with which Grushin manages the five or so main characters of this book is a treat to behold. She is such a skilled craftsman, both in use of language and structure without ever losing sight of the story and the characters: you CAN have all of this, the idea that technique is something we have now in modern literature instead of story and character is shown by this writer to be ludicrous.

Rest is here:

https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpress.com/2015/07/03/the-concert-ticket-by-olg...

I guess like others here, my first thought was not as good as...that's the trouble with creating a perfect work of art, one is haunted by it forever.

May I say this is 'not as good' but still SO, SO very good, that we are talking about giving this nine stars out of five, where we might have given Sukhanov ten.

Maybe the very big difference, the thing that makes one intuitively side with Sukhanov is that this novel has no one great character, rather, a group share centre stage equally. If you ask me, this just goes to show Grushin can do both of these constructions equally well. I think I was greedy to sink myself into a big character, the way one is greedy in one's younger years to be immersed in the enormity of The Russian Novel. The longer the better. The bigger the better. But you grow up and the finesse with which Grushin manages the five or so main characters of this book is a treat to behold. She is such a skilled craftsman, both in use of language and structure without ever losing sight of the story and the characters: you CAN have all of this, the idea that technique is something we have now in modern literature instead of story and character is shown by this writer to be ludicrous.

Rest is here:

https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpress.com/2015/07/03/the-concert-ticket-by-olg...

.....Much later after finishing this wonderful book.

I did talk a few people into reading this. The first, Margaret, who has read many, many books over the decades immediately declared that she could call it the best book she's ever read too. Phew. I was afraid I was not overselling it, but creating a situation where expectation could not equal experience.

The review is here, unchanged since I first put it on GR:

https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpress.com/2015/07/01/the-dream-life-of-sukhano...

I guess like others here, my first thought was not as good as...that's the trouble with creating a perfect work of art, one is haunted by it forever.

May I say this is 'not as good' but still SO, SO very good, that we are talking about giving this nine stars out of five, where we might have given Sukhanov ten.

Maybe the very big difference, the thing that makes one intuitively side with Sukhanov is that this novel has no one great character, rather, a group share centre stage equally. If you ask me, this just goes to show Grushin can do both of these constructions equally well. I think I was greedy to sink myself into a big character, the way one is greedy in one's younger years to be immersed in the enormity of The Russian Novel. The longer the better. The bigger the better. But you grow up and the finesse with which Grushin manages the five or so main characters of this book is a treat to behold. She is such a skilled craftsman, both in use of language and structure without ever losing sight of the story and the characters: you CAN have all of this, the idea that technique is something we have now in modern literature instead of story and character is shown by this writer to be ludicrous.

Rest is here:

https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpress.com/2015/07/03/the-concert-ticket-by-olg...

.....Much later after finishing this wonderful book.

I did talk a few people into reading this. The first, Margaret, who has read many, many books over the decades immediately declared that she could call it the best book she's ever read too. Phew. I was afraid I was not overselling it, but creating a situation where expectation could not equal experience.

The review is here, unchanged since I first put it on GR:

https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpress.com/2015/07/01/the-dream-life-of-sukhano...

This is one the best books I have ever read. The author writes incredibly well and has the sensibility of a nihilist 19th century writer so much so that I cannot believe Grushin is a young American writer. The story is about a middle aged man contending with a crisis of conscious because of decisions made as a result of his life during the politically tumultuous time of Russia from the 1930s to 1980s. What I found particularly engaging is that the author did not present or lean to what could be perceived as the right life choices, but that really everyone tries to do the right thing, to cope the best they can even though, ultimately, after the test of time, it is perceived that the wrong decision was made.
I cannot recommend this book enough and I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I did!

Trapped in a life of domesticity, the protagonist contemplates the poetry she loved to write as a young woman and considers whether the path she has chosen is the right one. Engaging read.

The story is very captivating and thought provoking. The reader has to pay attention and will be well rewarded for their effort! More impressive is the absolute beauty of Grushin's writing. I often stopped to reread a stunning phrase or paragraph!

Based on a true event in the former Soviet Union. A kiosk appears. No one is sure what will be sold from this kiosk, but a line forms nonetheless. Rumours abound, friendships begin, a family starts to fall apart, lives are changed, all while waiting in line. The author does an amazing job of spinning this tale, taking us in different directions, all of which intersect!

What an absolute treat... Even though, I would say, it's one of the saddest things I have ever read. The sadness is palpable throughout the novel. The grayness of life. The quiet desperation, maddening, but helpless. The constant mental struggle, in the face of the regime that suffocates any true talent - even with the seemingly optimistic denouement for the protagonist family. Grayness to which I can relate, having lived in that world...

And yet - a treat it is! It reads like a lyrical poem, melancholic, but with such exquisite turns of phrase - I couldn't help but noting them down, some are pure gems... The historical event on which it's based is also important. It didn't take long to decipher Stravinsky in "Selinsky"; the historical fiction part of it is touching - the old lady (a ballet dancer in her youth, and all that it entailed for her, all the consequences, the choices one makes in life...) is a character that appealed to me the most. And last but not least - the title, The Line ("...the orderly commas of bent backs marking the sidewalk in a depressingly long sentence..." - one of those gems I was talking about...) - what a significant title, in actual AND metaphorical sense. You have to have lived there to fully understand.½

I loved Grushin’s other two novels, but this one just never came together for me. Maybe it’s because I dislike lines in real life so much. :) It’s of course used a parable, and is also reflective of real conditions in the old Soviet Union, but the concept of a book centered around a line that absurdly forms daily and lasts into the night every day for a year reminded me of Goncharov’s Oblomov, who lays on his couch for over 500 pages. The premise starts the book off at a disadvantage, at least for me. I have to also say that while Grushin’s descriptions are lush, she seemed to be trying a little too hard in this book. I did like the pathos of the lives the husband, wife, teenage son, and grandma were leading, all mostly unknown to one another, and how Grushin revealed just how distant they were, but would have to recommend either of her other books instead of this one.

Quotes, which show she does have moments of brilliance:
On feelings:
“When the week had expired, he wrote her a note. He hesitated over the phrasing; though he had little knowledge of such matters, dimly he felt that certain sentiments, when written down, lost their souls – yes, certain sentiments, like music, existed only as sounds – sighs, laughter, whispers, gasps – or not at all.”

On imagination:
“I used to imagine it, this world. It had once been filled with joyful, mischievous creatures who flew on the backs of dragonflies, sewed curly clouds onto the skies, pretended to be the mossy weathervanes on the spires of ancient castles, tossed sunbeams at one another. When the sunbeams fell to the floor, they crystallized into tiny pieces of glass.”

On love:
“As he looked at her, his heart stilled, and a horrifying thought burst within him: What if my inability to be happy here, to feel love for this kind, selfless woman, has nothing to do with her failure to grasp my oh-so-lofty thoughts, to share my passion for music – what if it is, in truth, nobody’s fault but my own, some visceral flaw within myself, some deep-seated failure, some lack, some tragic lack –
He killed the light.”

And this one, seeing someone after a long time:
“The door opened suddenly, and there she was, her coat still thrown over her shoulders, her shadow falling across the threshold at his feet. He was pierced by an instant disappointment: she was not as he remembered her, as he had imagined her all these weeks, but drawn and plain and blanched, her eyes flat. Then her gaze met his, and she was as before, her face sewn out of tiny particles of pure, transparent light.”

On the sky, and freedom:
“…he rested his head against the bench’s back and did not move for many long minutes, staring upward at the flat gray sky that was sliding past him, unceasingly, quickly, spreading its wind-filled clouds like powerful sails and departing somewhere – perhaps toward another, brighter, deeper sky far, far away – leaving behind the pathetic park, the immobile city, the paralyzed day.”

On those sweet moments:
“…he could not bring himself to tell her how much he loved the simplicity of their meals, how many times he wished he could preserve some small, random moment just as it was, unchanging, unmoving – the slow tide of nighttime conversations drifting in, distant cigarette sparks flickering in the shadows, the taste of butter and herbs in his mouth, the pensive incline of her neck, her thin, graceful hands slicing the bread, spreading the napkins…”

And this one:
“They laughed then, a short, embarrassed laugh, but a laugh all the same, and somehow the moment filled with lightness, and as they walked to the Museum of Musical History, a half-hour away, he thought that if he tilted his head up, he could watch the moment turn airborne and float away, small and carefree, through streaks of smoking streetlamps, through pockets of night, up over the roofs and the churches of the old city, growing nebulous and pearly until it became just another wisp of an April cloud.”

A marvelous book. It moved me, engrossed me with its descriptive powers and its precise pinpointing of observations and ideas, at the same time confirming certain points about my own life.

A story of a woman who, in her youth, believed she "could sometimes sense the essence of things - houses, books, faces, moments in time - ... sometimes caught a whiff of their innermost souls, their unique smells", and she "was hoping .... to render these impressions in words so vivid, so precise, that others could feel them too", but who then wakes up to a different reality, struggles with it, trying to realize whether her life was wasted or not: "In our youth we believe ourselves so unique and our stories so original, yet we are all stuck running like hamsters on the wheel of time, all acting in the same play, and the roles or the play stay the same, only the actors switch places: one minute you are an ingenue charming an affable heir - the next, a matron used for comic relief in a scene of which you are no longer the protagonist." After all, "time... is the ultimate limitation placed on man" - as her imaginary muse/critic tells her. To the very end, this woman lives two lives (but don't we all?) - one in her head, one in reality. Despite all the regrets, moments of bitterness, tormenting questioning, it's such an uplifting book! I loved every moment of it. Wrote down tons of quotes, couldn't help myself... Here is one of the gems:

"And yet maturity offered other consolations, so much so that Mrs. Caldwell supposed she would choose not to relive her twenties if presented with the option. Among the varied advantages of middle age, you knew enough to accept being ordinary and to find much comfort in it, just as you knew enough to recognize the cliches for what they were and be able to laugh at them."

And I do agree with gbill's assessment that "in lesser hands, the story could have degenerated into banality...", but this author has certainly proved herself above that.

This is the story of a woman’s life, traced through events in forty rooms over the years. She’s a Russian immigrant who dreams of being a poet, but puts those aspirations on the back burner to become a mother and housewife instead. In lesser hands, the story could have degenerated into banality, but Grushin’s writing is fresh and insightful - sometimes profound, sometimes funny, but always with a sense of artistry and skill.

Quotes:
On poetry:
“One might even argue that the poet’s primary function is to make the misery of the human condition more bearable by converting raw pain into the orderly music of verse…”

“’Published? But poets are not published, Mrs. Caldwell. You do not put a song in a book. Being a jali is a gift you carry to the people. You walk among your people singing them alive, keeping their roots nourished, teaching them who they are. The word jali, do you know what it means in my language? Blood. Yes. That is what it means. Poets are the true blood of their people.’”

On sex, a poem about her first time, I found it quite clever:
“Met.
‘Nyet.’
Bet.
Duet.
Pet.
Wet.
Not yet.
Beset.
Let.
Sweat.
Regret?
Not yet.
Cigarette.”

On solitude:
“And as I sat on the cold bathroom floor, struggling to chisel the poem’s true, muscular shape out of the awkward lump of fatty phrases and petulant sentiments, I already felt – rising slowly from within the muddy misery of loneliness – the hard, bright joy of my new-found solitude.”

On the universe:
“The night embraces me, cool and endless, and above me the stars are tiny holes in the darkness through which the light of eternity is pouring out. I can almost sense primordial stardust flowing through my veins. People are forever telling me that stars make them feel small, and I always nod noncommittally and wonder at the stuffy confinement of their minds.
Stars make me feel vast.”

On writing:
“For this, I know at last, is why I am here: to experience deeply, my senses a heartbeat away from exploding, then take everything I am feeling – the insignificance of being human, the enormity of being human, the intoxication of being young, the ache of being alone, the dizzy thrill of witnessing the steady rotation of the universe, the cozy warmth of a small wooden house teetering on the edge of a vast Russian forest, of an untamed Russian night – yes, take everything I am seeing and hearing and smelling, every dusty book, by a forgotten writer on a shelf, every furtive mouse scurrying under the floorboards, every sneeze of the domovoi, our old brownie, sifting through my childhood clothes in the cluttered attic, every nocturnal flower unfurling in the grass, every sound, every color, every fleeting impression – and use the best words I have to convey it all, to pin it all down, to snatch one single moment from the obvious flow of impersonal time and make it bright, make it personal, make it forever.”

“I wrote that I believed I could sometimes sense the essence of things – houses, books, faces, moments in time – that I sometimes caught of a whiff of their innermost souls, their unique smells, and that what I was hoping to do with my life was to render these impressions in words so vivid, so precise, that others could feel them too.”