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A review by ergative
Vladivostok Circus by Elisa Shua Dusapin
1.5
This was . . . deeply perplexing. There were many literary devices in this book that didn’t seem to actually do anything. The broad plot is as follows: Nathalie, fresh out of fashion/costume-design school, gets a short-term job designing the costume for a circus act that is simultaneously obscure in the broader world (‘Russian bar’), and highly prestigious in its own little domain. So she goes to Vladivostok, lives and works on site with the performers in an out-of-season closed circus complex, and various things happen that seem intended to be symbolic, but in the end never actually pay off in any coherent way.
For example: there is a persistent theme of daddy issues. Nathalie’s father never travels abroad, so she rarely sees him. The three performers in the act used to be a father, Anton, a son, and a third guy, Nino. But the son got hurt and had to be replaced with a third performer, a woman named Anna and the shadow of the son’s fate lingers over a lot of the group’s psychology. Meanwhile, Nino is feeling a lot of family pressure (he comes from a circus family himself) to make good on this act. And at the end, Anna meets up with her father, who’s coming to see her compete in a big circus conference thing. So there’s lots of fathers and thoughts and so on that are present in the plot, but they don’t really do anything.
There’s also some odd timeline stuff happening. Nathalie’s previous project before coming to the circus was to do the costumes for someone who is absolutely not her boyfriend, who seemed a bit self-centred and not collaborative with her in the way that she wanted. But interspersed with the circus job we get some epistolary chapters taking place in the future, in which we learn that Nathalie seems to have gone back to the boyfriend guy and had a baby with him. Ok…? And…?
There’s a cat that the circus manager is fond of. It’s not well. A bird flies into the window and dies. The cat dies. Ok . . . ? And. . . ?
Then at the end, the sound system for the big circus conference thing doesn’t work with their act, so they don’t perform. They go their separate ways, keep in touch for a bit, then fall out of touch. The end.
What?
There was so much literary mechanical structure in here, but nothing was connected to anything else. You can’t write a book by showing me a heap of cogs and belts and screws and wheels scattered on the ground. You have to assemble them into something functional. And this book didn’t do it. Like the circus act, it had a vision, but never realized it.
Unless that was the point? In which case, I really don’t appreciate my time being wasted by meta-narrative games.
For example: there is a persistent theme of daddy issues. Nathalie’s father never travels abroad, so she rarely sees him. The three performers in the act used to be a father, Anton, a son, and a third guy, Nino. But the son got hurt and had to be replaced with a third performer, a woman named Anna and the shadow of the son’s fate lingers over a lot of the group’s psychology. Meanwhile, Nino is feeling a lot of family pressure (he comes from a circus family himself) to make good on this act. And at the end, Anna meets up with her father, who’s coming to see her compete in a big circus conference thing. So there’s lots of fathers and thoughts and so on that are present in the plot, but they don’t really do anything.
There’s also some odd timeline stuff happening. Nathalie’s previous project before coming to the circus was to do the costumes for someone who is absolutely not her boyfriend, who seemed a bit self-centred and not collaborative with her in the way that she wanted. But interspersed with the circus job we get some epistolary chapters taking place in the future, in which we learn that Nathalie seems to have gone back to the boyfriend guy and had a baby with him. Ok…? And…?
There’s a cat that the circus manager is fond of. It’s not well. A bird flies into the window and dies. The cat dies. Ok . . . ? And. . . ?
Then at the end, the sound system for the big circus conference thing doesn’t work with their act, so they don’t perform. They go their separate ways, keep in touch for a bit, then fall out of touch. The end.
What?
There was so much literary mechanical structure in here, but nothing was connected to anything else. You can’t write a book by showing me a heap of cogs and belts and screws and wheels scattered on the ground. You have to assemble them into something functional. And this book didn’t do it. Like the circus act, it had a vision, but never realized it.
Unless that was the point? In which case, I really don’t appreciate my time being wasted by meta-narrative games.