Too many books today are little more than action
and dialogue, as if they were movie scripts.
Indeed, calling a novel 'camera ready' is almost a
compliment. Novels are as breathless as Wolf Blitzer
reporting from Baghdad, and subtlety means the author
describes the bloody aftermath rather than the actual
murder itself.
A notable exception to all of this is Andrei Makine
and his beautiful, subtle, and complex novel, The Crime
Of Olga Arbyelina.
Other authors keep us engaged through violent plot
twists. But Makine's novel is more akin to a delicately
cooked gourmet meal.
He carries us along with the sheer beauty of his
writing.
Makine's metaphors add cosmic significance to the
smallest facial gesture and majesty to the closing of a
door.
A drop of rain becomes the point of departure for
ruminations on love and death.
One small scratch can lead to death for Olga's
haemophiliac son, and this notion of dire consequences
pervades her thoughts, and the book.
As a child, Olga's friend is randomly given a
magician costume, and she learns to handle fireworks
for the role. As a result, she is disfigured years later in a
fireworks accident.
Removing the posture-improving planks tied to the
backs of schoolgirls in tsarist Russia results in the
dismemberment of Olga's social order.
The odour of grilled fish in a stairwell is the final
straw that dissolves Olga's marriage.
After finishing the book, you may find yourself
noticing everyday objects or events that went
unobserved before.
For example, the way the bus driver looks at the fare
box as you put the coin in, or the way the television
blinks twice before coming on.
In Makine's world, each would be the cause or the
result of something significant.
But praising a book on literary merits should not
imply that it is boring.
The crime of the book's title, one assumes, is the
drowning death of a contemptible old Russian emigre at
the hands of, or at least in the company of, a beautiful
and mysterious Russian emigre princess.
But behind this 'crime' lies a wealth of grander
tragedies and darker secrets that Makine - all in good
time - reveals.
By the time Makine is prepared to solve the mystery
of the old man's death, the reader has become absorbed
in the book's larger and more sinister sweep and all but
forgotten the original crime.
As shocking as the ultimate 'crime' of the story is,
Makine's extremely subtle foreshadowing makes it seem
almost logical and inevitable.
This is a novel worth reading twice just to see how
perfectly all the pieces fit into place.
It is not, however, a novel for all people and all
occasions.
Those looking for a story in which the plucky
heroine defeats the bad guys and falls in love with the
handsome hero may find this book slow and ponderous.
And, as with Nabokov's Lolita, some moralists may
find that the beauty of the writing is not enough to
transcend the ugliness of what is described.
But if you are interested in reading both for the sake
of the writing as well as for a fascinating story, then
Olga Arbyelina should serve you well. Any book that
can heighten readers' thoughtfulness of the world around
them while delivering a dark and mysterious
psychological thriller is a good read.
The Crime of Olga Arbyelina by Andrei Makine
Sceptre $120