The Man Who Couldn't Die

The Man Who Couldn’t Die: The Tale of an Authentic Human Being is not a casual reading. It is a deeply introspective and slow to grasp book, and as such it is not for everyone. But a meticulous reader will discover that it is a book that worth the time and the effort.

It is early 1990s and a time of high uncertainty. The collapse of the Soviet Union and the accompanying economic upheaval, triggered a national identity crisis, confusion and disorientation. People had the feeling that the world was collapsing around them. Survival, especially for those who had a bleak job situation and "no marketable skills" depended on making new adjustments; sometimes people had to balance between being flexible and staying true to whatever your personal convictions are; sometimes they had to make a hard choice between the two.

Olga Slavnikova tells the story of two women, wife and stepdaughter of a paralyzed veteran in the early 1990s. In the chaos of post-Soviet society and in order to continue to receive his pension, which was their main source of income, they try to prolong the life of the old man by creating a world that doesn’t change. The Soviet Union has never collapsed and Leonid Brezhnev is still the General Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party. But the old man, and life, have other plans.

“One way or another, Marina prohibited anything that might arouse negative emotions (in this sense, her stagnation had achieved perfection).”

After the fall of the Soviet Union, a few powerful and well-connected people snatched, with the help of a “loans-for-shares”program, introduced by Yeltsin, critical enterprises and the media, reaping incredible wealth in the process. At the same time, these oligarchs attempted to shape the country politically. Using their newly acquired wealth they helped finance Yeltsin’s election campaign. Failing health and internal pressure forced Yeltsin to resign on December 31, 1999. His chosen successor was the then-Prime Minister Vladimir Putin.
It was in this climate, of cronyism and corruption, of fraud and deception, that Marina caught up in a local election campaign that gets out of hand.

The prose in The Man Who Couldn’t Die is fantastic. Dense and lengthy, it reminded me of Péter Nádas’ stylistic technique. The psychological intimate acuity of Slavnikova’s descriptions are imbued with a profound emotional depth.

Finally, I would like to say a few words about the translation. A translation is a door to a new world, not accessible, unless you speak the language, any other way. The Man Who Couldn’t Die: The Tale of an Authentic Human Being, is masterfully translated by Marian Schwartz, an established and award-wining translator of Russian fiction. Schwartz has translated Ivan Goncharov, Mikhail Bulgakov, Venedikt Erofeev, and many others. Her translation of the Russian classic Anna Karenina is genius.

Thank you to Columbia University Press, Marian Swartz and NetGalley for the opportunity to read this wonderful book.