An Infuriating Masterpiece
I don't think I've ever come across a book where all the Amazon readers' reviews, be they positive or negative, are so astute in dissecting at least certain aspects of what is an incredibly intricate structure. This speaks volumes about the power of what Vollmann attempts, regardless of whether he succeeds with every single reader.
For my part, I'm heartily relieved to have finally finished this book that has been weighing on me for a long time. And yet, I simply couldn't abandon it. For one thing, it enlightened me on numerous aspects of 20th-century history that I knew next to nothing about, such as the early days of Stalinism and the Nazi war on the eastern front. It also touched on matters that I thought I was quite familiar with, like the long struggle of the composer Shostakovich with the Soviet authorities. For another, several of its massive central chapters presented captivating portraits of real people ensnared in morally ambiguous situations. There's the captured Russian General Vlasov, who allowed himself to be exploited to recruit an army of expatriates to fight against Stalin. Then there's Field-Marshal Paulus, tenuously clinging to his honor through the debacle at Stalingrad. Kurt Gerstein, who became a functionary of the Final Solution while simultaneously trying to expose it. And the "Red Guillotine" Hilde Benjamin, the hanging judge of the DDR, who realizes too late to question her own rigidity.
As a musician, I ordered the book because its main character, Dmitri Shostakovich, is one of my favorite composers. Indeed, he is given extensive treatment, but I found these sections only sporadically satisfying and ultimately infuriating. His music - primarily the cello sonata, the fifth and seventh symphonies, the eighth quartet, and the opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk - is cited as a repository for far more sound impressions, political reactions, and extreme emotions than the notes can plausibly hold. The composer's story is interwoven with a plethora of romantic liaisons, both real and increasingly fantasized, which soon become tiresome. These chapters in particular are peppered with passing references to other characters, mentioned in Soviet style by surname and initials only, which even a specialist might struggle to fully identify. And the narrative voice, which elsewhere has the stylistic neutrality of political propaganda, takes on a curious vagueness when dealing with Shostakovich, in which thoughts seem to be initiated but, so to speak, never quite... The composer might not have dared to express himself except through the ambiguous medium of music, but it's a risky proposition for an author to assume the same privilege.
Undoubtedly, the strongest chapters deal with the War itself. I could recommend pages 260 - 471 to anyone, even if read in isolation, and there are strong chapters both before and after. But with the defeat of Germany, a haze of unreality pervades the novel. The objective historical writing generally ceases, and a kind of extended nightmare takes its place. Perhaps this is intended as a political parallel, but it makes it challenging to persevere. Only at the very end, with twenty pages描绘 the end of Shostakovich's life and a fine chapter on American pianist Van Cliburn's success in the Moscow Tchaikowsky Competition, does the novel return to terra firma.
Still, read it and be amazed. It's not every day that a contemporary novelist has the audacity to emulate Tolstoy on his home turf!
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*For more on which, see Julian Barnes' recent novel The Noise of Time.