The Good Angel of Death by Andrey Kurkov

I like Kurkov. Ever since Death and the Penguin I've looked forwards to new translations into English. He's a Russian Murakami. However, he is much more hit and miss than Murakami and this book, with a couple of caveats, is a real miss.

Granted, I don't know Ukranian culture and it's possible that I am under the illusion that it's closer to my own than Japanese. But I doubt it, so it's with a sad feeling that I am left with a feeling of a disjointed story with many missing parts. If it was because I'm missing bucket loads of cultural references I could forgive it for my own shortcomings would be to blame. Whilst there are some lovely moments in this book, it feels, on the whole, like a collection of disparate short stories without some substantial drama. The characters are blown along but rarely feel anything in the face of death, kidnapping, sudden marriage or enrichment. The absurd (e.g. the embodiment of the spirit of a people) does little to cover up thin characterisation and there are a number of strands which had promise but are never explored in a meaningful way. These problems only highlight the main weakness of the novel - that so much is assumed to be satisfactory when, from a reader's perspective it isn't.

Is the sense of powerlessness that steeps the pages of this book a reflection of Ukraine at the moment? I hope not because it would be a terrible state of being. Regardless of that possible satirical bent, this is not something I could recommend