Status
Available
Call number
Series
Collection
Publication
Melville International Crime (2011), Edition: Reprint, 240 pages
Description
In the prequel to Penguin Lost, aspiring writer Viktor Zolotaryov leads a down-and-out life in poverty-and-violence-wracked Kiev--he's out of work and his only friend is a penguin, Misha, that he rescued when the local zoo started getting rid of animals. Even more nerve-wracking: a local mobster has taken a shine to Misha and wants to keep borrowing him for events. But Viktor thinks he's finally caught a break when he lands a well-paying job at the Kiev newspaper writing "living obituaries" of local dignitaries--articles to be filed for use when the time comes. The only thing is, it seems the time always comes as soon as Viktor writes the article. Slowly understanding that his own life may be in jeopardy, Viktor also realizes that the only thing that might be keeping him alive is his penguin.… (more)
Media reviews
What they might approximate for the curious reader, however, is what it’s like to sit for a long late evening with a genial and gifted storyteller as he leads you through the most ancient and, in many ways, still most pleasurable functions of literature — making us wonder what on earth is going
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to happen next. Show Less
The Guardian
The novel's hero, Viktor Zolotaryov, is a frustrated writer whose short stories are too short and too sensation-free to be published. When a newspaper editor offers him a new job as star obituarist, paying $300 a month to write 'snappy, pithy, way-out' pieces, he agrees. His brief is to select
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powerful figures from Ukrainian high society and prepare mournful articles in readiness for the possibility that they might suddenly die.
But then the unexpected death of a senior politician after falling from a sixth-floor window triggers a clan war of killings and Viktor's obituaries are suddenly in demand. It is only later, when he discovers that his pieces are neatly filed in the editor's office - marked with dates for imminent publication although their subjects remain alive - that he becomes uncomfortable about his role in the eruption of violence unsettling the city.
The obituarist assumes a pragmatic approach to the uneasy morality of his work - accepting the money and getting on with it. This approach is one which Kurkov believes many Ukrainians have been forced to adopt, and his book is free of any censure for the way characters behave. 'People have got used to the corruption. People here are flexible and they accept the new rules and don't dwell on moral questions. They just watch what everyone else is doing and try to find their own ways of deceiving others to make money for themselves to survive,' he says.
Viktor's blossoming career is watched with melancholic disapproval by the gloomy figure of his pet penguin, Misha, adopted a few months earlier from the impoverished city zoo. In the cynical atmosphere of post-communist Kiev, the penguin is the only being which inspires in Viktor real affection.
The silent, sad penguin is the key to understanding the novel as a portrayal of post-Soviet chaos, says Kurkov. 'The penguin is a collective animal who is at a loss when he is alone. In the Antarctic, they live in huge groups and all their movements are programmed in their brains so that they follow one another. When you take one away from the others he is lost.
'This is what happened to the Soviet people who were collective animals - used to being helped by one another. With the collapse of the Soviet Union suddenly they found themselves alone, no longer felt protected by their neighbours, in a completely unfamiliar situation where they couldn't understand the new rules of life.' Show Less
Viktor, an impoverished writer and penguin-owner in modern-day Kiev, gets lucky when a local newspaper editor hires him to compose a series of obituaries of still living Ukrainian notables. But when his subjects start dying and acquaintances disappearing, it becomes clear that Viktor is involved in
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something sinister and he's better off not asking questions. Show Less
User reviews
LibraryThing member AHS-Wolfy
Viktor is a frustrated aspiring author but his short stories are often too short and any sign of a novel is so distant it might as well be the other side of the world. And that's pretty much where his constant companion, Misha the penguin, comes from. The zoo couldn't afford to keep all their
This fairly bleak story is riddled with dark humour. Set in the post-Soviet era Kiev with a lot of political manoeuvring (off-stage) which affects the main protagonists life dramatically but he seems to readily accept his situation no matter how much he's put upon. He tries to make the best of events while trying to keep as low a profile as possible. It's not that easy to lie low with a penguin in tow. The story follows Viktor in his day-to-day life but it's the relationship he has with Misha that really infuses it with warmth and feeling as his dealings with other people are quite cold and distant.
I definitely want to read more from this author and will, at some time, be seeking out the sequel to this particular story.
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animals and asked the public to take some off their hands so that's how Viktor and Misha came together. One day Viktor gets a job offer from a local paper. They liked his writing style though couldn't publish a story he'd submitted but thought his technique suited a new kind of obituary they wanted to try. Viktor starts writing them for notable personages that aren't quite dead yet so doesn't immediately see the fruits of his labour and it's only when one of those he's written about dies in suspicious circumstances that Viktor gets an inkling of what his new position is all about. His fears are increased when one of the people who provide his work asks him to take care of his daughter as he has to disappear for a while. After no immediate reappearance occurs, this necessitates the employing of a nanny to help him look after the little girl and so a family unit is born. When this family starts to become more of a reality will Viktor start questioning what he does for a living? And what will it get him if he does?This fairly bleak story is riddled with dark humour. Set in the post-Soviet era Kiev with a lot of political manoeuvring (off-stage) which affects the main protagonists life dramatically but he seems to readily accept his situation no matter how much he's put upon. He tries to make the best of events while trying to keep as low a profile as possible. It's not that easy to lie low with a penguin in tow. The story follows Viktor in his day-to-day life but it's the relationship he has with Misha that really infuses it with warmth and feeling as his dealings with other people are quite cold and distant.
I definitely want to read more from this author and will, at some time, be seeking out the sequel to this particular story.
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LibraryThing member mkboylan
Although it was billed as a crime novel, I saw politics so I must have projected my own current thinking and reading all over this book! Oh wait - crime....politics.....same thing perhaps? Another reviewer saw it as a gang war. I saw revolution. Oh wait - crime, politics, revolution?
Vik is torn between concern that he is part of murder and the comfort he has developed with his new life of financial security, home and family. Does he really want to know how his actions effect society? That might mean giving up his newfound comfort. Boy can I relate to that. Can I really continue living peacefully in my nice safe little community while my country is bombing others? Remaining unaware can seem blissful and be very comfortable.
I see that NPR has interviewed the author about this book so I'm now off to see what his book was really about. Be back in a minute.
Hmmmm......well if I told you, that would be a spoiler!
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Hmmmm.....well, here's what I saw: a lonely somewhat isolated man who has a generous impulse to rescue and adopt a penguin. Other people begin to come into his life through interaction with the penguin on walks, etc. Who could not stop and ask? Vik ends up with a job and a family of sorts as well as assorted friendships. The job involves writing obituaries for living people who end up dead, which is not exactly in line with Vik's ambition as a writer,but he excels at it. He eventually realizes the people he writes about are being killed and he has to examine his part in that. I am writing this in 2013 in the U.S. when bankers and politicians and military figures are badly misbehaving (!) and corrupt and I see revolution in this novel as these are the figures who are killed off. Vik is torn between concern that he is part of murder and the comfort he has developed with his new life of financial security, home and family. Does he really want to know how his actions effect society? That might mean giving up his newfound comfort. Boy can I relate to that. Can I really continue living peacefully in my nice safe little community while my country is bombing others? Remaining unaware can seem blissful and be very comfortable.
I see that NPR has interviewed the author about this book so I'm now off to see what his book was really about. Be back in a minute.
Hmmmm......well if I told you, that would be a spoiler!
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LibraryThing member isabelx
A struggling author called Viktor becomes the proud owner of a depressive king penguin called Misha when the zoo in Kiev gives away the animals it can no longer afford to feed. A year later, he takes what seems initially like a simple job writing obituaries ahead of need for a Kiev newspaper, and
This black comedy set in the post-communist Ukraine is a short tale full of humour and pathos. I loved the thought of Misha the penguin being asked to attend funerals to add a bit of class!
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finds himself and his penguin entangled in some rather sinister goings on.This black comedy set in the post-communist Ukraine is a short tale full of humour and pathos. I loved the thought of Misha the penguin being asked to attend funerals to add a bit of class!
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LibraryThing member gbill
Andrey Kurkov is very popular in Ukraine, and began his career borrowing money to self-publish his first books which he then sold on the sidewalks of Kiev, a city I love. So I truly wanted to like this book, as many others do, but sadly it fell short for me.
The premise is certainly original: a
The humor is meant to be “dark” but it’s not funny to me, moreover the book is largely uneventful, and the writing is too simple. Yes, “bleak” and “deadpan” as I read the adjectives on the back cover, but for me, somewhat boring. It recovers a bit with the ending, but not enough to recommend it, or to press on to the sequel.
As for quotes, just this one:
“Sonya cried. The rain rained on. An unfinished obelisk protruded from the typewriter, but Viktor didn’t feel like work. Legs against the hot radiator, he stood at the bedroom window, tears welling, as if in chain reaction to Sonya’s, and through his tears, watched raindrops doing their best to cling to the glass. The wind set them quivering and away they shot finally, only to be replaced by fresh drops, and continue the senseless battle with the wind.”
The premise is certainly original: a
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frustrated author gets a job writing obituaries for important people before they’re dead, including dirt on them that’s provided to him, and then finds that shortly afterwards they start turning up dead, through “accidents” and “suicides”. He’s a lonely guy living on his own, at least at the beginning of the book, except for a pet penguin he’s picked up from the local zoo. The book is thus about corruption and the absurdity of life in post-Soviet Kiev. Viktor, the writer, is isolated and the existential hero, trying to make his way and find meaning in a meaningless, violent world. “…life around him was still dangerously unfathomable, as if he had missed the actual moment when the nature of events might have been fathomed.”The humor is meant to be “dark” but it’s not funny to me, moreover the book is largely uneventful, and the writing is too simple. Yes, “bleak” and “deadpan” as I read the adjectives on the back cover, but for me, somewhat boring. It recovers a bit with the ending, but not enough to recommend it, or to press on to the sequel.
As for quotes, just this one:
“Sonya cried. The rain rained on. An unfinished obelisk protruded from the typewriter, but Viktor didn’t feel like work. Legs against the hot radiator, he stood at the bedroom window, tears welling, as if in chain reaction to Sonya’s, and through his tears, watched raindrops doing their best to cling to the glass. The wind set them quivering and away they shot finally, only to be replaced by fresh drops, and continue the senseless battle with the wind.”
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LibraryThing member jnwelch
I had a good time with Death and the Penguin by Ukrainian writer Andrey Kurkov, ably translated from the Russian. Set in an up-for-grabs Kiev, it's funny and relatively short, with dark humor and intrinsic criticisms of post-Soviet life. Despite the title, it not a mystery; I've seen it called
Viktor is an unemployed writer living with his penguin, Misha, who he obtained when the local zoo closed. Misha is not a literary gimmick, but a legitimate soulmate filled with affection and melancholy. Out of the blue Viktor gets a job writing obituaries for a local paper, and finally has some money. However, what he is asked to write may have a more sinister purpose. He fills the obituaries with his personal touch, including poetic prose and philosophy. When an opera singer dies, he writes:
"The voice of Yuliya Parkhomenko is now silent. But so long as the walls of the Mariynsky Palace endure, and the splendour of the National Opera is reflected in the gold of its inner cupola, she will abide as a golden haze dissolved upon the air we breathe. Her voice will be the gilding of the silence she has left behind."
Viktor gets drawn into involvement with suspect types, who also have a role for Misha to play. Somehow, he winds up taking care of a little girl named Sonya and hiring a nanny to whom he becomes close. The content is often surreal, but delivered matter-of-factly and with wit. There is an indictment of corruption and lawlessness delivered with a velvet glove. Beneath the story is an always-present resignation and determination to survive that I associate with many Russian authors.
"The once terrible was now commonplace, meaning that people accepted it as the norm and went on living, instead of getting needlessly agitated. For them, as for Viktor, the main thing, after all, was still to live, come what might."
Viktor is a decent man dealing with often difficult circumstances, with the help of friends he makes along the way, including a surprisingly honest policeman. The writing style made me think of Gogol, but it moves even faster. I'll be reading more by Kurkov, and I'm hoping he becomes better known on this side of the Atlantic and elsewhere.
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absurdist noir.Viktor is an unemployed writer living with his penguin, Misha, who he obtained when the local zoo closed. Misha is not a literary gimmick, but a legitimate soulmate filled with affection and melancholy. Out of the blue Viktor gets a job writing obituaries for a local paper, and finally has some money. However, what he is asked to write may have a more sinister purpose. He fills the obituaries with his personal touch, including poetic prose and philosophy. When an opera singer dies, he writes:
"The voice of Yuliya Parkhomenko is now silent. But so long as the walls of the Mariynsky Palace endure, and the splendour of the National Opera is reflected in the gold of its inner cupola, she will abide as a golden haze dissolved upon the air we breathe. Her voice will be the gilding of the silence she has left behind."
Viktor gets drawn into involvement with suspect types, who also have a role for Misha to play. Somehow, he winds up taking care of a little girl named Sonya and hiring a nanny to whom he becomes close. The content is often surreal, but delivered matter-of-factly and with wit. There is an indictment of corruption and lawlessness delivered with a velvet glove. Beneath the story is an always-present resignation and determination to survive that I associate with many Russian authors.
"The once terrible was now commonplace, meaning that people accepted it as the norm and went on living, instead of getting needlessly agitated. For them, as for Viktor, the main thing, after all, was still to live, come what might."
Viktor is a decent man dealing with often difficult circumstances, with the help of friends he makes along the way, including a surprisingly honest policeman. The writing style made me think of Gogol, but it moves even faster. I'll be reading more by Kurkov, and I'm hoping he becomes better known on this side of the Atlantic and elsewhere.
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LibraryThing member birdsam0610
I was given the opportunity to read Death and the Penguin by Melville House Publishing (thank you!), who offered me an eBook. Reading about this book had me hooked from the first couple of sentences – set in Kiev, Ukraine, this book is about Vik who falls into a mysterious job of writing
Does that sound odd? Not to me, I find the former Soviet bloc countries and their people fascinating - so many juxtapositions between the old and new, irony and enthusiasm. If the above sounds plausible to you, you’ll enjoy Death and the Penguin. This was the first Ukrainian fiction book I’ve read and I’ll certainly read more of Kurkov’s works. Eastern European literature is much more than just War and Peace! (Which coincidentally, I’ve been thinking about reading of late).
My first worry, that the prose would be difficult to understand after the translation of Russian to English was unfounded. This was based on my grandfather’s translation of jokes from Ukrainian to English – often falling very flat. No problems with this book though, George Bird has translated this book perfectly. The subtle irony and humour have made a successful translation to English, including the joke on the first page.
Now that I’ve told you that this book works well, what is it actually about? Our protagonist is Viktor, a single man living in a Kiev apartment with the penguin he took from the zoo last year when they were reducing their animal numbers. (Was this common post-Soviet times?) Viktor tries to write short stories, unsuccessfully in between feeding Misha the penguin and being lonely. Then Viktor is offered the opportunity to write obituaries – for people who are not yet dead. He takes to this task with fervour, but then odd things start to happen…he meets Misha-non-penguin and his daughter, Sonya (eventually taking over her care when Misha goes missing) and Misha (penguin) is asked to attend funerals for money. Viktor’s obituary topics keep turning up dead and things keep appearing in his kitchen table, even though the door is locked – from the inside. While all this happens, Viktor gets a girlfriend, friends and a surrogate daughter.
This is brilliantly, subtly written. The crime tends to take place in the background and the characters seem to accept some of these things as ‘normal’ (e.g. gunshots, having to ‘go to ground’) - which perhaps was more likely in the Ukraine of the 1990s. Organised crime and political problems seem to be rampant in this book. The characters are quite likeable with all their quirks, and Misha the penguin is written brilliantly – he is a character, rather than just a quirky type of pet. Cognac and vodka also feature quite prominently as well as the weather, which seems to range from freezing to just plain cold. Kurkov has the ability to weave all the drama into Viktor’s everyday life and make it seem – almost normal. So we know that when Viktor starts to get worried, it’s time for us to be really worried. The ending is quite emotional (and unexpected to me), but I hear that there’s a sequel which I must try to hunt down…
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obituaries from home in the company of his penguin, Misha. Although Kurkov is Ukrainian, the book is translated from the Russian (I can hear my ancestors complaining about this!) but has studied many languages, working as a prison warder before turning to writing. According to Goodreads, he has a hobby of collecting cacti.Does that sound odd? Not to me, I find the former Soviet bloc countries and their people fascinating - so many juxtapositions between the old and new, irony and enthusiasm. If the above sounds plausible to you, you’ll enjoy Death and the Penguin. This was the first Ukrainian fiction book I’ve read and I’ll certainly read more of Kurkov’s works. Eastern European literature is much more than just War and Peace! (Which coincidentally, I’ve been thinking about reading of late).
My first worry, that the prose would be difficult to understand after the translation of Russian to English was unfounded. This was based on my grandfather’s translation of jokes from Ukrainian to English – often falling very flat. No problems with this book though, George Bird has translated this book perfectly. The subtle irony and humour have made a successful translation to English, including the joke on the first page.
Now that I’ve told you that this book works well, what is it actually about? Our protagonist is Viktor, a single man living in a Kiev apartment with the penguin he took from the zoo last year when they were reducing their animal numbers. (Was this common post-Soviet times?) Viktor tries to write short stories, unsuccessfully in between feeding Misha the penguin and being lonely. Then Viktor is offered the opportunity to write obituaries – for people who are not yet dead. He takes to this task with fervour, but then odd things start to happen…he meets Misha-non-penguin and his daughter, Sonya (eventually taking over her care when Misha goes missing) and Misha (penguin) is asked to attend funerals for money. Viktor’s obituary topics keep turning up dead and things keep appearing in his kitchen table, even though the door is locked – from the inside. While all this happens, Viktor gets a girlfriend, friends and a surrogate daughter.
This is brilliantly, subtly written. The crime tends to take place in the background and the characters seem to accept some of these things as ‘normal’ (e.g. gunshots, having to ‘go to ground’) - which perhaps was more likely in the Ukraine of the 1990s. Organised crime and political problems seem to be rampant in this book. The characters are quite likeable with all their quirks, and Misha the penguin is written brilliantly – he is a character, rather than just a quirky type of pet. Cognac and vodka also feature quite prominently as well as the weather, which seems to range from freezing to just plain cold. Kurkov has the ability to weave all the drama into Viktor’s everyday life and make it seem – almost normal. So we know that when Viktor starts to get worried, it’s time for us to be really worried. The ending is quite emotional (and unexpected to me), but I hear that there’s a sequel which I must try to hunt down…
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LibraryThing member jaygheiser
Great short novel. Just a bit surreal. Deals with a writer who gains employment writing speculative obits for a newspaper, and it turns out that he is being manipulated as part of a russian power struggle.
LibraryThing member themockturtle
This whimsical novel features a short story author turned obituarist. During the course of his employment, during which he is to write the future obituaries of notable people, he finds that the subjects of his "obelisk jobs" have a tendency to turn up dead. It is an interesting glimpse into both a
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dreary occupation and life in post-Soviet Union Ukraine. Also there is a mono-polaric depressive penguin called, "Misha" who lives with our ill-fated hero and is the object of most of his affection; and while Misha never speaks, his presence and influence is felt throughout the story proving there are far too few penguins in literature. Show Less
LibraryThing member alana_leigh
For some reason, this book caught my eye ages ago, on a table in Barnes and Noble, and I picked it up and knew it would be a Great Book. Three years later, I tucked it into a suitcase and read it in one sitting on the train and while I certainly think it has incredible elements to it, the hype of
The basic plot is this: Viktor is a semi-aspiring writer (who lacks ambition and inspiration) living in post-Soviet Kiev. His only true companion is his pet penguin, Misha. Why does he keep a penguin as a pet? Well, when the zoo could no longer afford to feed some of its animals, it gave them away to those who could (which is a true story). Viktor, having just broken up with his girlfriend, was a bit lonely, and so he took on Misha, and King Penguin. Now, this isn't a story with a talking penguin, so don't think we've gone there. No, Misha simply waddles around the apartment, a bit depressed and lost, so he and Viktor are somewhat alike as we start out in this novel. But then Viktor gets a job writing obituaries - obelisks as the book calls them - for those VIPs in their society who have not yet died, the idea being that these tributes will be on hand when they do. Of course, things aren't always what they seem and just when Viktor appears to find his life settling into something resembling the stereotypical dream of job and family, he discovers that his obelisks are being used as a kind of hit list.
I had tried to get this into my book club for discussion, but no one seemed terribly enthused, which leaves me to muddle through the questions it raises on my own. Naturally, my favorite parts of the novel are with Misha, who became so vivid in my imagination as he moved through the apartment and looked at Viktor with sad eyes. Viktor himself is an interesting character, vacillating between paranoid despair and an ignorant (but actively opting to be ignorant) and childlike contentment. Things tend to fall into his lap (the job, another man's daughter for Viktor to raise, a relationship with the girl's nanny) and he tends to simply accept them, make the most of things, and not question them. One cannot help but ask how much one tends to accept in his/her own life in a similar way as to Viktor... how much benefits us in a "no questions asked" kind of way, even if ours must certainly be a bit different. (When were you last paid $1000 for showing up at a funeral with a penguin?) But the only creature that Viktor seems to have a real connection with is Misha, who came about as a result of an active choice to take on a penguin from the zoo... though perhaps unsurprising since Misha is used as a mirror for Viktor himself throughout the story.
If I knew more about post-Soviet Ukraine, I'm sure I could have gleaned more from the relationship between the media, the government, and the mafia -- or at least beyond the obvious manipulations of them all upon each other. I mean, I was prepared for the drinking and the routine murder from simple historical stereotypes of this period of time. What I can determine is that there's certainly something to be said about entrusting your fate to the mafia rather than the government (which is perhaps why Kurkov's work was banned in Russia), as the mafia seems more capable of caring for you. It seems to make no difference which camp you're in, as life is just as precarious either way, but at least the mafia seems to have the funds capable of caring for your body if not your conscience. Some reviews have called the prose "cold", but I imagine it's simply apt as a voice representative of the Ukraine and its people. An absurdist humor, a resignation to certain goings-on in life, an emphasis on how it's better not to know too much...
No matter what, if I can somehow find Kurkov's other works, I'll certainly be quicker about reading those than I was this one. And you should waste no time in discovering this gem for yourself.
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having it tucked away for a few years meant that I had that sense of wanting something a bit more... but only upon initially closing the book. I don't necessarily read a great deal of existentialist literature, but I quite enjoyed this... particularly the writing style and the characters, and further reflection upon it only seems to improve the work.The basic plot is this: Viktor is a semi-aspiring writer (who lacks ambition and inspiration) living in post-Soviet Kiev. His only true companion is his pet penguin, Misha. Why does he keep a penguin as a pet? Well, when the zoo could no longer afford to feed some of its animals, it gave them away to those who could (which is a true story). Viktor, having just broken up with his girlfriend, was a bit lonely, and so he took on Misha, and King Penguin. Now, this isn't a story with a talking penguin, so don't think we've gone there. No, Misha simply waddles around the apartment, a bit depressed and lost, so he and Viktor are somewhat alike as we start out in this novel. But then Viktor gets a job writing obituaries - obelisks as the book calls them - for those VIPs in their society who have not yet died, the idea being that these tributes will be on hand when they do. Of course, things aren't always what they seem and just when Viktor appears to find his life settling into something resembling the stereotypical dream of job and family, he discovers that his obelisks are being used as a kind of hit list.
I had tried to get this into my book club for discussion, but no one seemed terribly enthused, which leaves me to muddle through the questions it raises on my own. Naturally, my favorite parts of the novel are with Misha, who became so vivid in my imagination as he moved through the apartment and looked at Viktor with sad eyes. Viktor himself is an interesting character, vacillating between paranoid despair and an ignorant (but actively opting to be ignorant) and childlike contentment. Things tend to fall into his lap (the job, another man's daughter for Viktor to raise, a relationship with the girl's nanny) and he tends to simply accept them, make the most of things, and not question them. One cannot help but ask how much one tends to accept in his/her own life in a similar way as to Viktor... how much benefits us in a "no questions asked" kind of way, even if ours must certainly be a bit different. (When were you last paid $1000 for showing up at a funeral with a penguin?) But the only creature that Viktor seems to have a real connection with is Misha, who came about as a result of an active choice to take on a penguin from the zoo... though perhaps unsurprising since Misha is used as a mirror for Viktor himself throughout the story.
If I knew more about post-Soviet Ukraine, I'm sure I could have gleaned more from the relationship between the media, the government, and the mafia -- or at least beyond the obvious manipulations of them all upon each other. I mean, I was prepared for the drinking and the routine murder from simple historical stereotypes of this period of time. What I can determine is that there's certainly something to be said about entrusting your fate to the mafia rather than the government (which is perhaps why Kurkov's work was banned in Russia), as the mafia seems more capable of caring for you. It seems to make no difference which camp you're in, as life is just as precarious either way, but at least the mafia seems to have the funds capable of caring for your body if not your conscience. Some reviews have called the prose "cold", but I imagine it's simply apt as a voice representative of the Ukraine and its people. An absurdist humor, a resignation to certain goings-on in life, an emphasis on how it's better not to know too much...
No matter what, if I can somehow find Kurkov's other works, I'll certainly be quicker about reading those than I was this one. And you should waste no time in discovering this gem for yourself.
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LibraryThing member wilsonknut
Andrey Kurkov’s Death and the Penguin is a very unique book. How often is a dark absurdist satire about life in the post-Soviet Ukraine an easy and pleasurable read? Kurkov delivers the grayness of Kiev and the absurdity of the circumstances in a calm deadpan tone. It is a mystery. It’s
Viktor, the main character, is a frustrated writer only capable of writing “short short” stories of no consequence. His girlfriend left him sometime before the book begins, and he adopted a penguin named Misha from the zoo when the zoo could no longer feed the animals. After trying to sell one of his short short stories to the newspaper, Viktor is contacted by the editor. They want him to write obituaries for “notables” who have not yet died. Thus begins the mystery. Viktor naturally has questions, but is willing to put them off to be gainfully employed and handsomely paid. The notables begin to die suspicious deaths after Viktor turns in his obits, but he continues to work diligently. Viktor’s ability to ignore and forget becomes the recurring theme through the book. Kurkov writes:
An odd country, an odd life which he had no desire to make sense of. To endure, full stop, that was all he wanted.
Later in the book as the mystery increases, Kurkov writes about Viktor:
His instinct was to keep his back turned on all that was happening, and let it happen unseen, away from him and his life.
But what is Viktor’s life without the mystery? It is mostly a day to day grey existence filled with cup after cup of coffee and tea, punctuated by feeding Misha his fish. Misha, like Viktor, is suffering from isolation. He is a depressed penguin longing for contact with his own kind.
Sleeping lightly that night, Viktor heard an insomniac Misha roaming the flat, leaving doors open, occasionally stopping and heaving a deep sigh, like an old man weary of both life and himself.
Misha also has a congenital heart defect that comes into play late in the book. In many ways, Viktor is Misha and vice versa. They both struggle to form genuine affectionate bonds with others. Misha nuzzling against Viktor’s knee once when they are alone is the only affection the two show. Viktor often cares for others in the book simply because he has an “odd sense of duty.” He is a likeable guy, but he’s despondent. He is left to care for Sonya, the daughter of a shady acquaintance who disappears. He also takes in the nanny as a companion and even sleeps with her, but he states multiple times that love is not part of their makeshift family. Little Sonya tells Viktor that a suspicious man asked her on the street if Viktor loved her, “And I told him you didn’t much.” The few friends Viktor makes die or disappear. Yet, he endures.
I’ve painted a bleak picture, but the book really is a fun read. Viktor is given odd instructions throughout the book by various shady characters. He is paid to take Misha to the funerals of mafia members. Things appear overnight in the house. There is some deeper symbolism to be pondered in the book. The 1980 Olympics in Moscow used “Misha” the bear as a mascot (the bear being the traditional symbol of Russia). With the dissolution of the Soviet Union and the state of the Ukraine in the late 1990s, depressed Misha the penguin seems to have deeper significance. Do with that what you will.
Death and the Penguin by Andrey Kurkov and translated by George Bird is part of Melville House Publishing’s International Crime series and was published by Melville House in June 2011. Melville House will also publish the sequel Penguin Lost in September 2011. You can preorder any book there and get it 30 days early.
Death and the Penguin was originally published in 1996 in Russian.
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humorous. It’s also literary. It’s fun to read.Viktor, the main character, is a frustrated writer only capable of writing “short short” stories of no consequence. His girlfriend left him sometime before the book begins, and he adopted a penguin named Misha from the zoo when the zoo could no longer feed the animals. After trying to sell one of his short short stories to the newspaper, Viktor is contacted by the editor. They want him to write obituaries for “notables” who have not yet died. Thus begins the mystery. Viktor naturally has questions, but is willing to put them off to be gainfully employed and handsomely paid. The notables begin to die suspicious deaths after Viktor turns in his obits, but he continues to work diligently. Viktor’s ability to ignore and forget becomes the recurring theme through the book. Kurkov writes:
An odd country, an odd life which he had no desire to make sense of. To endure, full stop, that was all he wanted.
Later in the book as the mystery increases, Kurkov writes about Viktor:
His instinct was to keep his back turned on all that was happening, and let it happen unseen, away from him and his life.
But what is Viktor’s life without the mystery? It is mostly a day to day grey existence filled with cup after cup of coffee and tea, punctuated by feeding Misha his fish. Misha, like Viktor, is suffering from isolation. He is a depressed penguin longing for contact with his own kind.
Sleeping lightly that night, Viktor heard an insomniac Misha roaming the flat, leaving doors open, occasionally stopping and heaving a deep sigh, like an old man weary of both life and himself.
Misha also has a congenital heart defect that comes into play late in the book. In many ways, Viktor is Misha and vice versa. They both struggle to form genuine affectionate bonds with others. Misha nuzzling against Viktor’s knee once when they are alone is the only affection the two show. Viktor often cares for others in the book simply because he has an “odd sense of duty.” He is a likeable guy, but he’s despondent. He is left to care for Sonya, the daughter of a shady acquaintance who disappears. He also takes in the nanny as a companion and even sleeps with her, but he states multiple times that love is not part of their makeshift family. Little Sonya tells Viktor that a suspicious man asked her on the street if Viktor loved her, “And I told him you didn’t much.” The few friends Viktor makes die or disappear. Yet, he endures.
I’ve painted a bleak picture, but the book really is a fun read. Viktor is given odd instructions throughout the book by various shady characters. He is paid to take Misha to the funerals of mafia members. Things appear overnight in the house. There is some deeper symbolism to be pondered in the book. The 1980 Olympics in Moscow used “Misha” the bear as a mascot (the bear being the traditional symbol of Russia). With the dissolution of the Soviet Union and the state of the Ukraine in the late 1990s, depressed Misha the penguin seems to have deeper significance. Do with that what you will.
Death and the Penguin by Andrey Kurkov and translated by George Bird is part of Melville House Publishing’s International Crime series and was published by Melville House in June 2011. Melville House will also publish the sequel Penguin Lost in September 2011. You can preorder any book there and get it 30 days early.
Death and the Penguin was originally published in 1996 in Russian.
Show Less
LibraryThing member jwhenderson
It is always interesting to read a story about a writer. This writer is even more interesting both for what he writes - obituaries - and his penguin. When his girl friend abandoned him he adopted a King penguin who was likewise abandoned by the local zoo. Together they share an apartment and one
Writing obituaries turns out to be more interesting than one might suspect. His passion for writing and the assistance of a Mafia operative combine to lead him into a mysterious situation from which he may not be able to escape.
"The more he worked, the more his suspicions grew, until they became the absolute certainty that this whole obelisk business was part of a patently criminal operation. The realization of this in no way influenced his daily life and work. And although he could not help thinking about it, he found it easier to do so every day, having recognized the complete impossibility of ever changing his life." (p 156)
The penguin is an updated version of a Bulgakov-style social satire, where the improbable comes to look more and more sensible against the depiction of what is real. While pathos and humor shine through, this is at its core as black of a black comedy that I have read in some time. It has that rare distinction among my reading of being an evocative look at friendship with a penguin and an invention of genius.
It is energized by comic twists and turns that make Kurkov's writing unique in my experience. Subtly humorous and exciting, it contains unexpected moments galore. A vigorous bizarreness makes it a successfully brooding novel, which creates an enduring sense of dismay and strangeness.
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another's unique sort of loneliness. This is the tempting, for some, beginning of what is a melancholy and comic thriller of a novel.Writing obituaries turns out to be more interesting than one might suspect. His passion for writing and the assistance of a Mafia operative combine to lead him into a mysterious situation from which he may not be able to escape.
"The more he worked, the more his suspicions grew, until they became the absolute certainty that this whole obelisk business was part of a patently criminal operation. The realization of this in no way influenced his daily life and work. And although he could not help thinking about it, he found it easier to do so every day, having recognized the complete impossibility of ever changing his life." (p 156)
The penguin is an updated version of a Bulgakov-style social satire, where the improbable comes to look more and more sensible against the depiction of what is real. While pathos and humor shine through, this is at its core as black of a black comedy that I have read in some time. It has that rare distinction among my reading of being an evocative look at friendship with a penguin and an invention of genius.
It is energized by comic twists and turns that make Kurkov's writing unique in my experience. Subtly humorous and exciting, it contains unexpected moments galore. A vigorous bizarreness makes it a successfully brooding novel, which creates an enduring sense of dismay and strangeness.
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LibraryThing member sprutle
What the book is about you can read elsewhere, and the story is told in a straighforward way, but what makes this book special an wortwhile reading is the atmosphere the writer manages to create. Slightly absurd, sinister at times, and this combinded with Victor's simple everyday life, eventhough
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he lives with a penguin, makes it an unforgetable read. Show Less
LibraryThing member guanarteme
Death and the Penguin is a gripping novel about a man named Victor and his adopted pet penguin Misha. Aspiring author Victor is hired by a post-soviet, mob-owned newspaper to write obituaries for the undead. Eventually, as each obituary nears publication, the subject of each obituary dies. Kurkov
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takes us on a wild chase of reality amidst absurdity. . . Or is it absurdity amidst reality?. . . Or are they one and the same? As I see it, this is the point of the novel--that with time people will embrace absurdity as normality. Show Less
LibraryThing member othersam
Contains Misha, undoubtedly the greatest penguin in the whole of world literature! Misha's owner, throughout the Kafkaesque absurdity that ensues from his taking up a job as an orbituary-writer, even refers to the sinister stranger who commissions him - also called Misha - as 'Misha-non-penguin',
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to make sure everyone knows who he's talking about. This is a lovely book, very funny in that peculiarly Russian way of being heartbreakingly sad at the same time. Well worth a look. Show Less
LibraryThing member emily_morine
Interacting with art is always subjective, and sometimes a particular reading experience will bring that home to me with a vengeance. I started Andrey Kurkov's Death and the Penguin during a time of personal uncertainty, when I was exhausted and unsure if my employers would be going out of
I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that Kurkov's novel is not actually terrible for its first hundred pages and delightful for its second. Much more likely, it has a consistent texture and flavor throughout; had I been reading it during a more restful time, I probably would have enjoyed it in its entirety. It's amazing to me, though, just how stark the difference in my perception was between the first and second halves of this novel. I have to wonder: how many other books that have struck me as limp or offensive over the years have been casualties of my own state of mind? And likewise, how many of my favorite pieces of art only achieved that status because I happened to pick them up at exactly the right moment in my life?
Once my situation allowed me to appreciate Death and the Penguin, I noticed a lot to love. One of the things that struck me was the way in which reality and surreality exist easily side-by-side. I've seen Kurkov's work compared to the Soviet-banned classic The Master and Margarita, but from its opening pages Bulgakov's novel is unapologetic, fantastic allegory. In Death and the Penguin, on the other hand, the surreal elements are all grounded in some version of reality. It may seem bizarre, for example, that Viktor has a penguin for a pet. But in the wake of the Soviet collapse, zoos and other state-supported institutions lost their funding:
Misha had appeared chez Viktor a year before, when the zoo was giving away hungry animals to anyone able to feed them. Viktor had gone along and returned with a king penguin. Abandoned by his girlfriend the week before, he had been feeling lonely. But Misha had brought his own kind of loneliness, and the result was now two complementary lonelinesses, creating an impression more of interdependence than of amity.
I don't know whether zoos actually did give away animals at the time, but this detail is richly evocative of the real yet surreal atmosphere of post-Soviet chaos. Formerly reliable institutions are either gutted or transformed; nothing is what it used to be; nothing is what it seems. Normally I prefer my surreality to be sinister and unexplained, but in the case of Death and the Penguin, the reality of post-Soviet Ukraine needs little embellishment: it's surreal enough on its own.
Something was wrong with this life, he thought, walking with downcast eyes. Or life itself had changed, and was as it used to be - simple, comprehensible - only on the outside. Inside, it was as if the mechanism was broken, and now there was no knowing what to expect of a familiar object - be it a loaf of Ukrainian bread or a street pay telephone. Beneath every surface, inside every tree, every person, lurked an invisible alien something. The seeming reality of everything was only a relic of childhood.
I don't know whether the wordplay exists in the original Russian, but the phrase "familiar objects" is apt. The traditional nuclear family is one of the primary targets of the transforming chaos that pervades Kurkov's work. Viktor stumbles into a domestic situation superficially resembling the traditional one: a youngish couple living with their little daughter and family pet (albeit a penguin rather than a dog). But, as Viktor points out, nothing is as it seems. Sonya, his seeming daughter, is actually the child of a mafioso who drops her on Viktor's doorstep unceremoniously and then disappears for good. Nina, his ostensible wife or girlfriend, is a nanny Viktor has hired for Sonya. And, despite his growing practical involvement with woman and girl, and his contemplation of purchasing a summer home with Nina, his emotions never become invested in these relationships. In one scene, he surprises himself by thinking that "perhaps he should try to grow fond of Nina and Sonya." In Viktor's world, emotional attachment seems not to grow organically out of everyday life - or rather, attachments do form, but not with the people one would normally expect.
And yet, this comfortable if dispassionate life is enough to pacify Viktor, to convince him to accept the growing danger in which his shady employment - writing damning obituaries on notable people just before they die - is placing him. Whereas the traditional hero of a mystery novel feels compelled to get to the bottom of whatever's going on, Viktor is often overcome by lassitude in the face of unfathomable dangers:
Was it worth trying to discover what was going on? Worth risking comfort - curious though it might be - and peace of mind? He would still have to write obelisks, and still have to be needed in order to stay alive.
As un-glamorous as this attitude is, I have to admit I can really relate to it. In such a chaotic, nonsensical world, it seems outlandish to suppose that Viktor should risk his temporary shelter (under the wing of who-knows-what questionable characters) and bring on his own death sooner than anticipated, just to ascertain the exact workings of the crimes in which he has unwittingly become involved. A kind of provisional, superficial comfort is the best these characters can reasonably expect. Despite everything, though, Viktor still struggles with his basic human instincts of curiosity and self-preservation. He can't dismiss them entirely, and in that small way, I found the novel to be a hopeful one, in addition to its dark hilarity and dystopian charm.
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business. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I found the first half of Kurkov's novel unengaging. The narration style seemed flat, numb: I couldn't "hear" the voice of the author, and the plot (concerning a journalist-cum-obituary-writer who, along with his de facto ward and his pet penguin, becomes embroiled in a mafia war) struck me as half-baked. Then, when I was halfway through the book, the uncertainty in my own life came to an end. And even though the news was bad - today my job ends and my company, like so many others in this economy, shuts its doors - I was so relieved to be out of the state of limbo that my primary immediate emotion was one of happiness. Funnily enough, Death and the Penguin was transformed, for me, along with my mood: suddenly the novel became dryly hilarious, a clever satire on the scattered, surreal atmosphere of post-Soviet Ukraine. The narrative voice was suddenly accessible. The plot, although odd, became intriguing. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that Kurkov's novel is not actually terrible for its first hundred pages and delightful for its second. Much more likely, it has a consistent texture and flavor throughout; had I been reading it during a more restful time, I probably would have enjoyed it in its entirety. It's amazing to me, though, just how stark the difference in my perception was between the first and second halves of this novel. I have to wonder: how many other books that have struck me as limp or offensive over the years have been casualties of my own state of mind? And likewise, how many of my favorite pieces of art only achieved that status because I happened to pick them up at exactly the right moment in my life?
Once my situation allowed me to appreciate Death and the Penguin, I noticed a lot to love. One of the things that struck me was the way in which reality and surreality exist easily side-by-side. I've seen Kurkov's work compared to the Soviet-banned classic The Master and Margarita, but from its opening pages Bulgakov's novel is unapologetic, fantastic allegory. In Death and the Penguin, on the other hand, the surreal elements are all grounded in some version of reality. It may seem bizarre, for example, that Viktor has a penguin for a pet. But in the wake of the Soviet collapse, zoos and other state-supported institutions lost their funding:
Misha had appeared chez Viktor a year before, when the zoo was giving away hungry animals to anyone able to feed them. Viktor had gone along and returned with a king penguin. Abandoned by his girlfriend the week before, he had been feeling lonely. But Misha had brought his own kind of loneliness, and the result was now two complementary lonelinesses, creating an impression more of interdependence than of amity.
I don't know whether zoos actually did give away animals at the time, but this detail is richly evocative of the real yet surreal atmosphere of post-Soviet chaos. Formerly reliable institutions are either gutted or transformed; nothing is what it used to be; nothing is what it seems. Normally I prefer my surreality to be sinister and unexplained, but in the case of Death and the Penguin, the reality of post-Soviet Ukraine needs little embellishment: it's surreal enough on its own.
Something was wrong with this life, he thought, walking with downcast eyes. Or life itself had changed, and was as it used to be - simple, comprehensible - only on the outside. Inside, it was as if the mechanism was broken, and now there was no knowing what to expect of a familiar object - be it a loaf of Ukrainian bread or a street pay telephone. Beneath every surface, inside every tree, every person, lurked an invisible alien something. The seeming reality of everything was only a relic of childhood.
I don't know whether the wordplay exists in the original Russian, but the phrase "familiar objects" is apt. The traditional nuclear family is one of the primary targets of the transforming chaos that pervades Kurkov's work. Viktor stumbles into a domestic situation superficially resembling the traditional one: a youngish couple living with their little daughter and family pet (albeit a penguin rather than a dog). But, as Viktor points out, nothing is as it seems. Sonya, his seeming daughter, is actually the child of a mafioso who drops her on Viktor's doorstep unceremoniously and then disappears for good. Nina, his ostensible wife or girlfriend, is a nanny Viktor has hired for Sonya. And, despite his growing practical involvement with woman and girl, and his contemplation of purchasing a summer home with Nina, his emotions never become invested in these relationships. In one scene, he surprises himself by thinking that "perhaps he should try to grow fond of Nina and Sonya." In Viktor's world, emotional attachment seems not to grow organically out of everyday life - or rather, attachments do form, but not with the people one would normally expect.
And yet, this comfortable if dispassionate life is enough to pacify Viktor, to convince him to accept the growing danger in which his shady employment - writing damning obituaries on notable people just before they die - is placing him. Whereas the traditional hero of a mystery novel feels compelled to get to the bottom of whatever's going on, Viktor is often overcome by lassitude in the face of unfathomable dangers:
Was it worth trying to discover what was going on? Worth risking comfort - curious though it might be - and peace of mind? He would still have to write obelisks, and still have to be needed in order to stay alive.
As un-glamorous as this attitude is, I have to admit I can really relate to it. In such a chaotic, nonsensical world, it seems outlandish to suppose that Viktor should risk his temporary shelter (under the wing of who-knows-what questionable characters) and bring on his own death sooner than anticipated, just to ascertain the exact workings of the crimes in which he has unwittingly become involved. A kind of provisional, superficial comfort is the best these characters can reasonably expect. Despite everything, though, Viktor still struggles with his basic human instincts of curiosity and self-preservation. He can't dismiss them entirely, and in that small way, I found the novel to be a hopeful one, in addition to its dark hilarity and dystopian charm.
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LibraryThing member Gwendydd
A very strange, yet strangely compelling, story. Viktor is an aspiring writer living alone with a penguin he rescued from a closing zoo. A newspaper hires him to write obituaries for people who aren't dead yet. He slowly comes to realize that he is actually writing death-warrants.
Through the whole
Just like Viktor, the reader is drawn along by events, never certain about where they're going or why they're happening, but the story is compelling and interesting, so you want to know what's going to happen next.
Through the whole
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book, Victor doesn't have much choice but to go with the flow. He suspects that he is involved in organized crime, yet he isn't allowed to know much about what's going on. He finds himself raising a child and living with a woman in a strange fake family. He contemplates trying to change things, but change could be dangerous to him or those around him, and besides, he's being paid well. Just like Viktor, the reader is drawn along by events, never certain about where they're going or why they're happening, but the story is compelling and interesting, so you want to know what's going to happen next.
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LibraryThing member ablueidol
Bitter-sweet satire as a writer gets caught up with the deadly struggles of the political-business elites as he tries to make sense of a empty personal life. This starting with misha the penguin soon becomes increasingly full and complicated as he acquires friends a girl friend, a child. Full of
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memorable characters and images. More liteweight then expected but avoids a Hollywood endng yet strangely unresolved- sequels I fear await Show Less
LibraryThing member Greatrakes
A satire on life in post-communist Ukraine, political assassination is rife, gangsters and oligarchs run the country, hospitals have no drugs and everything is in decay. Viktor is a forty year old unsuccessful writer, who picks up an unusual commission - to write obituaries for people who are still
I really enjoyed this book, the detachment of its protagonist and cool measured description of an increasingly mad world really hooked me, and it's very funny, too.
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living. He is the archetypal good man who turns a blind eye to evil, because turning a blind eye is the only way to get by. People start to die and his passivity leads him into ever murkier areas, testing his powers of denial to the limits. Not being able to say no also results in him acquiring a family consisting of a depressed penguin, the four year old daughter of a gangster, and a 17 year old nanny/mistress.I really enjoyed this book, the detachment of its protagonist and cool measured description of an increasingly mad world really hooked me, and it's very funny, too.
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LibraryThing member Rhysickle
Reading the other reviews, everyone else seems to love the ultra deadpan style.
Too dry for me.
Too dry for me.
LibraryThing member soniaandree
Ukrainian tragico-comedy, a journalist adopts a penguin from the zoo and starts writing obituaries for politicians who are still alive. Once the obituary is written, the politicians end up dead - coincidence? Or has the writer served as a tool for the local mafia's murders? This is just the start
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of the hero's adventures... Show Less
LibraryThing member michaelmurphy
A black comedy delivered in an emotionless, deadpan manner, "Death and the Penguin" is a sinister satirical take on life in post-Soviet, modern-day Ukraine. Things take a turn for the better for Viktor, a struggling writer of short stories living alone with only a king penguin for company, when he
Shortly after expressing his frustration to a visitor, Misha-non-penguin, (a Mafia-linked figure who wishes Viktor to write an obituary) that none of his work ever appears in print because none of his selected subjects to-date has died, Viktor is shocked to find that in no time at all, the subject of his best obituary is - lo and behold! - suddenly dead. Thereafter, deaths of Viktor's subjects proliferate with such alarming rapidity that Victor fears his penning of an obituary is tantamount to passing a death sentence, his obituaries of the still living having become in effect, requisitions for future death, each obituary providing per se more than sufficient cause for the snuffing out of a life.
The unwitting dupe of State Security conspiracy, at least initially, Victor has become enmeshed in the violent underworld of Mafia dealings and political machinations where his own life may end being written up in an obituary. Around Victor, the very air seems charged with menace, an air of menace that pervades the novel. Viktor is at the mercy of dark and dangerous forces swirling around him that he can't exactly get a fix on but knows are there, lurking ominously in the background. Entertaining and original!
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is taken on by Capital News editor Igor Lvovich to compose obituaries of the various big shots and political big-wigs pulling the strings in post-Soviet Kiev society, these to be kept on file for future use as and when the subjects die. Victor is instructed to incorporate into his compositions, certain loaded material, underlined in the file notes provided him, designed to undermine reputations through insidious innuendo.Shortly after expressing his frustration to a visitor, Misha-non-penguin, (a Mafia-linked figure who wishes Viktor to write an obituary) that none of his work ever appears in print because none of his selected subjects to-date has died, Viktor is shocked to find that in no time at all, the subject of his best obituary is - lo and behold! - suddenly dead. Thereafter, deaths of Viktor's subjects proliferate with such alarming rapidity that Victor fears his penning of an obituary is tantamount to passing a death sentence, his obituaries of the still living having become in effect, requisitions for future death, each obituary providing per se more than sufficient cause for the snuffing out of a life.
The unwitting dupe of State Security conspiracy, at least initially, Victor has become enmeshed in the violent underworld of Mafia dealings and political machinations where his own life may end being written up in an obituary. Around Victor, the very air seems charged with menace, an air of menace that pervades the novel. Viktor is at the mercy of dark and dangerous forces swirling around him that he can't exactly get a fix on but knows are there, lurking ominously in the background. Entertaining and original!
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LibraryThing member anna10186
I absolutely adored this book!
What's amazing about it is the fact that the main subjects in it are death & lonliness, yet it's filled with so much humor, irony and wit that you just can't help but constantly smile while reading it. Simply brilliant!
What's amazing about it is the fact that the main subjects in it are death & lonliness, yet it's filled with so much humor, irony and wit that you just can't help but constantly smile while reading it. Simply brilliant!
LibraryThing member bkwriter4life
Viktor owns a penguin named Misha and writes obelisks (obituaries) for a newspaper. An aspiring writer, he shines and is paid modestly for his obelisks. Then he inherits, Sonya, the daughter of Misha non-penguin for awhile. Soon after, Viktor hires nanny, Nina, who becomes Sonya's pseudo Mom and
A chilling, icy, and melancholy story about a man living in his own world. The salient feature of this story is how dry the story reads even with all the death surrounding Viktor including attending funerals of not known folks and Misha being invited just because he's a penguin. Enjoyable and entertaining. Slow at times but the story worked.
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Viktor's pseudo wife. Then things go awry when his boss fails to reveal why Viktor is being watched closely.A chilling, icy, and melancholy story about a man living in his own world. The salient feature of this story is how dry the story reads even with all the death surrounding Viktor including attending funerals of not known folks and Misha being invited just because he's a penguin. Enjoyable and entertaining. Slow at times but the story worked.
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LibraryThing member NogDog
This review is a bit of a challenge to write — not because I did not like Death and the Penguin, but because I am not really sure why I loved it. It is not in my comfort zone as far as fiction genres go (fantasy, science fiction, and/or humor), but rather is a sort of mystery dealing with
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post-Soviet era life, crime, politics, and relationships. However, for some fortuitous reason it caught my eye, and I decided to sample it — and it was on sale for $3.19.Death and the Penguin was written by Ukrainian author Andrey Kurkov (translated to English by George Bird). I think one part of the attraction of this book for me is the view of post-Soviet life in Kiev, told by someone who lived it. Other attractions were the clever, original plot along with the understated yet interesting characters. Many of those characters, including the protagonist, were essentially common people, caught up in the tangled web of events that brought them together and generally reacting in what would seem the almost stereotypical Slavic attitude of simply coping as best they could.Then there is Misha the penguin (not to be confused with Misha-Not-a-Penguin) who at first seems a curious affectation within the story, and eventually becomes an important plot element. As the story went on, I started to feel at times that Misha was also an avatar of the reader: watching the other characters join the dance around Viktor, the aspiring writer and protagonist, and sometimes exiting stage left or right, often under mysterious circumstances.Ultimately, I suspect I was pulled into this book so effectively due to something in the tone and underlying (and understated) themes resonating with me to a large extent. That sense of alienation many of us feel when trying to understand how we fit into the world at large, the temptation to just get by and not think too deeply about what we may be sacrificing to do so, feeling helpless at the hands of those in greater power — in other words: most of us “average people.”Kurkov’s prose was generally terse yet effective, presenting Viktor’s story with efficient imagery and a minimum of sentimentality, yet sprinkled here and there with slightly more extended musings that made me pause to think.The past believed in dates. And everyone’s life consisted of dates, giving life a rhythm and sense of gradation, as if from the eminence of a date one could look back and down, and see the past itself. A clear, comprehensible past, divided up into squares of events, lines of paths taken.(Location 2432 of the Kindle edition)I’m not sure if Death and the Penguin should be classified as a dark, somewhat satirical mystery or perhaps a surrealistic character study; but I am pretty sure it can be classified as something you ought to at least sample. I suppose I’ll be downloading the sample for Penguin Lost soon and see if I want to put it on my birthday wish-list. Show Less
LibraryThing member fothpaul
Bizzare but enjoyable. Thought the character of Misha the penuin and Sonya were excellent. The setting of a run down and ill functioning Kiev is a perfect backdrop for the lonely Viktors troubles. I really felt for him and his troubles and was concerned for Misha on several occasions.
Subjects
Awards
Independent Foreign Fiction Prize (Shortlist — 2002)
Language
Original language
English
Original publication date
1996
2002
2001 (English: Bird)
Physical description
240 p.; 5.5 inches
ISBN
9781935554554