Vyrin, a Russian defector, is discovered and fatally poisoned by secret service agents. Kalitin, a 70-year old chemist who also had escaped to the West after the collapse of the USSR and now lives a secluded life in the former GDR, is invited to join the investigative team. The choice is unsurprising: Kalitin was one of the Soviet Union’s top experimental scientists and the developer of Neophyte, an “untraceable” terribly lethal poison. But someone leaks information about Kalitin’s involvement in the Vyrin inquiry, and the Russian authorities, newly apprised of his whereabouts decide to silence him. Ruthless military officer Shershnev is dispatched with a colleague on a mission to kill Kalitin using the very same poison developed by the chemist in his USSR days.

Sergei Lebedev’s Untraceable has the trappings of a spy thriller and is not short of incident – there is a harrowing and exciting description of a hunt for lab monkeys after an experiment gone wrong, as well as a quasi-farcical account of the assassins’ trip to the sleepy village where Kalitin hides. However, the novel’s focus is on the psychological and moral make-up of the protagonists, both of them cynical, single-minded tools of the regime. On the one hand there is Kalitin, who defected out of disappointment at the fall of the USSR rather than out of any sense of guilt or moral duty, and who, now diagnosed with cancer, dreams of a return to his past in the lab. On the other hand there is Shershnev, a human killing machine, who has trained himself to subsume any feelings which can get in the way of a mission.

Untraceable largely shifts between the points of view of these two characters. Towards the end, however, Lebedev introduces another player in the dramatis personae: Travniček, a pastor who has had past brushes with the Soviet secret service, and who provides a ray of hope and redemption in an otherwise bleak worldview. By his own account, Travniček is neither hero nor saint, but in this moral swampland, his valiant attempts to do right by his parishioners – including Kalitin – makes of him a character worthy of a Graham Greene novel.

Lebedev’s novel, partly inspired by the Skripal case, is topical and engaging. The cover of the edition I read, portraying a shadowy figure shrouded in mist, seems to reflect the ethical ambiguity of the world in which the novel’s characters work and live. The exquisite English translation by Antonina W. Bouis is not only readable and idiomatic, whilst retaining a lyrical and poetic feel.

https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2021/03/untraceable-by-sergei-lebedev.html ( )

Overall, I enjoyed it. Maybe I expected more action, but there was almost no action, almost everything was in reflection. Characters were developed very well, they felt too real, as well as the secret city and even the name neophyte - the same meaning as novichok. ( )

Vyrin, a Russian defector, is discovered and fatally poisoned by secret service agents. Kalitin, a 70-year old chemist who also had escaped to the West after the collapse of the USSR and now lives a secluded life in the former GDR, is invited to join the investigative team. The choice is unsurprising: Kalitin was one of the Soviet Union’s top experimental scientists and the developer of Neophyte, an “untraceable” terribly lethal poison. But someone leaks information about Kalitin’s involvement in the Vyrin inquiry, and the Russian authorities, newly apprised of his whereabouts decide to silence him. Ruthless military officer Shershnev is dispatched with a colleague on a mission to kill Kalitin using the very same poison developed by the chemist in his USSR days.

Sergei Lebedev’s Untraceable has the trappings of a spy thriller and is not short of incident – there is a harrowing and exciting description of a hunt for lab monkeys after an experiment gone wrong, as well as a quasi-farcical account of the assassins’ trip to the sleepy village where Kalitin hides. However, the novel’s focus is on the psychological and moral make-up of the protagonists, both of them cynical, single-minded tools of the regime. On the one hand there is Kalitin, who defected out of disappointment at the fall of the USSR rather than out of any sense of guilt or moral duty, and who, now diagnosed with cancer, dreams of a return to his past in the lab. On the other hand there is Shershnev, a human killing machine, who has trained himself to subsume any feelings which can get in the way of a mission.

Untraceable largely shifts between the points of view of these two characters. Towards the end, however, Lebedev introduces another player in the dramatis personae: Travniček, a pastor who has had past brushes with the Soviet secret service, and who provides a ray of hope and redemption in an otherwise bleak worldview. By his own account, Travniček is neither hero nor saint, but in this moral swampland, his valiant attempts to do right by his parishioners – including Kalitin – makes of him a character worthy of a Graham Greene novel.

Lebedev’s novel, partly inspired by the Skripal case, is topical and engaging. The cover of the edition I read, portraying a shadowy figure shrouded in mist, seems to reflect the ethical ambiguity of the world in which the novel’s characters work and live. The exquisite English translation by Antonina W. Bouis is not only readable and idiomatic, whilst retaining a lyrical and poetic feel.

https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2021/03/untraceable-by-sergei-lebedev.html ( )

Maybe it's just because I like Russian novels: confusing names and identities, long philosophical and guilt-ridden musings, darkness and suffering. Readers of Untraceable who complained that it wasn't the "page-turning spy thriller" they were hoping for should have paid more attention to the quote from the scholar of Russian history, Anne Appelbaum: "a fascinating window on modern Russia." Which it is. A smeared, fogged, distorted and distorting window, which may hide as much as it shows - and that's the point. Who's who? Who are the good guys? Who are the bad guys? What evils were committed in the name of service to one's country? To one's own ambition and obsession? Where *are* we (or they) exactly? How does one live with, excuse, or reconcile acts that were errors or crimes? That is the kind of book this is. The reader must have patience, tolerance for confusion and ambiguity, and a fascination with the scary, secretive world of Soviet and post-Soviet Russia doesn't hurt.

Lengthy, graceful, brooding chapters from the point of view of two murderers (going Raskolnikov one better, without as much angst). A stoic priest. The ultimate in poison. An assassination mission hindered by all manner of natural, accidental, or simply stupid mishaps. Or are they?

I loved it. ( )

“Untraceable” ended up not entirely working for me. I saw a review of the book that declared it was in the style of le Carre´, by an acclaimed young Russian writer, and that it involved poisoning in foreign countries by Russian agents. Seemed good. I found the book to be way to mannered, introspective, and it all seemed to be intentionally difficult to read. I have read much le Carre´ and while his books are labyrinthine they are understandable and there is forward momentum. There is almost no dialog in this book, it is all descriptions of thoughts and memories and I truly had trouble figuring out who was who and what was what for quite a while. Eventually the characters and the story come into some better focus but I never felt an emotional attachment to the story and that is really necessary to get the impact of the narrative. I truly don’t understand not naming places and locations. I think it is just a different style than I wanted and it did not resonate with me. That being said there are passages that are wonderful and there is an overarching story that is important. I just wished it had been delivered in a more invigorating package. ( )