I don't know where to start. This is a tale of three people, cousins Avo and Ruben, and their friend/love interest Mina from the 1970s to 1989, It's also a tale of immigrants, wrestling, and backgammon. Most importantly, however, it's the story of how the Armenian genocide has echoed down the years. It starts in the Armenian SSR, where Avo and Ruben conspire for Ruben to replace Mina in a backgammon tournament in Paris, where he joins an Armenian liberation about and disappears into the mist, until he convinces Avo to go to California, where Avo takes advantage of his size and becomes a wrestler. Mina, meanwhile, is left behind by both men. Oh, and McCormick throws in Terry, who is Avo's coach who has his own issues. I liked the shifting voices, which helped to pull some very different strands together. It helps, I think, to have some knowledge not only about Armenia (and certainly the genocide) but also the time frame of the novel but if you don't (and actually even if you do), you might find yourself doing some googling. Thanks to the publisher for the ARC. An ambitious novel for fans of literary fiction.

I honestly only requested this book because Brit Bennett had blurbed it, but I am so glad I gave it a chance. The Gimmicks is a very sad, very beautiful novel about three friends and how they hurt one another despite loving one another. The Armenian genocide that always haunts the background of the story acts as a reminder how trauma can have an effect generations later. This novel has the potential to be for Armenia what The Kite Runner is for Afghanistan.

Wow. What a book. It’s unthinkable that there are no reviews for it and I’m the first one. Is no one reading it? It is a tough sell? I mean, the country seems to care about Armenians (provided they are Kardashians) and wrestling pretty much unilaterally, although, to be fair, this novel is as much about wrestling as Kardashians are about being Armenians. But really I’m trying to say that this is a stunning book, a terrific book and I can only hope my review can bring some much deserved attention and readership to it. Spanning two decades and two (or three, depending on how you think of Armenian geopolitical position) continents, the book follows a relationship between two brothers (technically distant cousins) and those around them. Growing up in a small Armenian town, the boys are as different as two boys can be. Avo is a definition of a friendly giant, Ruben is small, nerdy, solemn. Avo wrestes, Ruben wrestles his demons. Avo loves, Ruben obsesses. But they are bonded together despite their differences and so, when Ruben becomes involved in the politics of the region, he inevitably drags Avo along with him. And thus both set off on their own destructive trajectories. Avo ends up in America as a professional wrestler. Ruben ends up in Europe working for Armenian Liberation Front. And then there are also the stories of Avo’s fiancé left behind and Terry, Avo’s wrestling manager. The narrative interweave taking the readers from the early 1970s to 1989, you follow the threads and eventually get the entire tragic story. And if you’re expecting a happy ending, you probably shouldn’t read a book about a country so permanently scarred by a genocide. But endings aside, this book has so much going on. The main thing are probably the characters. Unforgettable distinct fascinating characters. Avo alone would have carried this story ably on his Atlas like shoulders, after all he is the main event here, the Armenian Odysseus, set to travel the world, desperately trying to get back to his one and only love. And Ruben, the sad, weak Ruben, destined to be the second fiddle, alone, tilting at his windmills. And Terry, a wrestler turned manager with ironed blond mane (which seems like a fairly direct rip off of a very famous blonde wrestler named Terry), who seems to be the embodiment of a disillusioned American of a certain generation, desperate to find a form of a substitute for a beloved brother killed in a war. And Mina, Avo’s Penelope, a girl whose own trajectory turns out to be way more traditional than one might have imagined. And all of their stories and all of their gimmicks. The narratives chosen by them and for them. The stories one spins to live inside. Every gimmick, every choice. These characters have an epic quality to them, the novel has an epic quality to it, a certain weight that proper literature carries, a substance, a significance. It’s such a powerhouse of a story. Much like with wrestling, it’s a fictional narrative that nevertheless ,when delivered right, will throw you down. To think that an author that young (born in 1987) can write with such restraint, sophistication and emotional intelligence is just…wow. And his descriptions too are gorgeous, bringing to life places small and large from California to the Southern Caucasus. A completely immersive reading experience. The only possible detractor (or not even a detractor, just a thought, really) is that in this fraught geopolitical times the novel doesn’t really do much to endear immigrants to the world, or at least US. Mainly they are represented as those who can be placed within various preset and prehated stereotypes…people from certain regions are depicted as somewhat backward, very much stuck in their ways, obsessed with (effectively crippled by) the past, fighting unwinnable wars, seeking unattainable legitimacy, willing to risk innocent lives for their cause, etc. Or, alternatively, as immigrants, they are insular, barely making an effort to fit in, learn the language, etc. So not a very flattering picture of a currently loathed contingent of the population in a very turbulent time. But then again, I’m not sure white nationalist and their ilk go around reading novels about other cultures, so it isn’t exactly throwing gasoline on any fires. No one has needed a reason to hate in a very long time, nor have those convictions been amenable to educated opinions and changes…hence…the world today. But all that aside, this was an awesome read, a gorgeous story, a proper literary novel and one of the best books I’ve read in ages (which given how many books I read is a high compliment indeed). Recommended. Thanks Netgalley.