Untraceable by Sergei Lebedev
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
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.
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