This is a truly unique book -- the pretend history of a fictional island (maybe near the Black Sea?) written in the style of an old saga or medieval manuscript. People live for hundreds of years. The history goes back to the time of Noah (with several twists), and thus feels Biblical in many ways. We see history being written and rewritten, with segments being deleted and added by various scribes and editors, depending on the needs/whims of current rulers.

I was intrigued to read a book by a Russian author born in Kyiv, and was hoping to understand modern Russian literature a bit better by reading it. However, I'm giving up at about 40% because the characters just aren't grabbing me. Perhaps at a different period of my life I could concentrate better on remembering who is who. In other words, despite realizing that this is a very inventive and well-written novel, it just wasn't for me right now..

Thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for an advance review copy.

Vodolazkin, Eugene. A History of the Island: novel. Walden, NY : Plough Publishing. Forthcoming May 2023. 320 pp., $26.95 hardcover.

The history of Eugene Vodolazkin’s island is traced from the Middle Ages to modernity. Prince Parfeny and Princess Ksenia live through 357 years of it, through a dozen wars with a dozen different leaders, including a revolution. The parallels to the Russian revolution, Stalin, and the Gulags cannot be avoided. Parfeny and Ksenia see history, time, as a fluctuation of Good and Evil, not as cause-effect events. Vodolazkin’s view of time is very different than the typical western idea, and only an author of his skill could write effectively through centuries without losing the freshness and depth of characters. He is at his best in talking about the art of the time, ultimately comparing it to the realistic style we recognize as Socialist Realism.

The danger in narrating through the centuries manifests in Vodolazkin’s diluting the depth of the story and the characters. It also presents sudden huge leaps in time in time and place: a third of the way through the novel we are abruptly dropped into modern Paris where Parfeny and Ksenia are meeting with a French film director for a biopic with the prince and princess as consultants. This sudden leap into another time and place may be somewhat disorienting, but once we become accustomed to such time shifts, like eyes adjusting to a dark theater, we are comfortable when steamboats suddenly appear off the shores of the island. But it also risks some departures in character: consulting on a biopic of their lives simply does not seem like something these these two deeply sympathetic characters would do. Perhaps Vodolazkin was making a wry comment on too many writers’ eyes on film rights, often to the detriment of the original story.

Other sections are superb: the smooth narration about Vlas, the Lord of the Bees and the conversion of his daughter, Melissa (new ruler of the island), shines. From a religious country to an atheistic revolutionary country back to a religious country, all done so skillfully we travel without realizing the transition. This is vintage Vodolazkin.

Vodolazkin has displayed his unorthodox use of time and - as a medieval scholar - the Middle Ages in his previous novel Laurus, and for all his skillful craftsmanship, this may weaken his novels. Still, he brilliantly transcends frontiers of geography, politics, time, and history, and has produced a novel well worth reading.

The way this book mimicked a history book and religious texts was skillfully done-- but this is not a book you cruise through like a thriller or a beach read. You move slowly through it, trying to understand what the author is saying about the foibles of the human race at large.

In preparation for this novel, I read the author's previous epic work, Laurus. As some reviewers have already mentioned, this is a continuation of that novel, and the author's storytelling style and incredible imagination carry through every word. That said, while there are moments of astonishing thought and ideas, I'm not sure the book works well, either as a sequel or a stand-alone. With Laurus, the reader gets a lot of crucial information as the book develops--about Russian religious history, Orthodox Christian thought, medieval Russian life, the history of medicine, and more. In A History of the Island, those deep roots are scant, and the book suffers for it. The many narrators and their very different personalities helps propel the story/stories, and if the reader is patient and knowledgable about Russian intellectual history, religion, and other issues, there is a kind of reward to making it to the end--just as the theology says.

Another Vodolozkan! It's definitely more Laurus (fantastic/medieval) than Brisbane (realistic/modern), though he plays with the perception of time in all the books.
I like the self-awareness of the scribes and the metaness of the notes from Parfeny and Ksenia, though I enjoyed the clarification of their memories in the first half more than the modern journal entries about the filming in France in the second half.
Going in, I wished I had more context than "a critique of the progression of Western culture," but nearing the end that's what we have, so I guess the back cover copy makes sense. Vodolozkan uses the device of Parfeny and Ksenia's long life to span the story and provide perspective, though they clarify that they're not medieval people dropped into the modern world since they lived through the ages.

Eugene Vodolazkin’s A History of the Island reads as an ongoing historical chronicle regarding an unnamed, nondescript Island, interspersed with an ongoing commentary written by a royal couple who has lived for over three and half centuries. Like Vodolazkin’s previous works, the experience of time remains one of the novel’s overriding themes, where the format as much as the plot, propels the reader through various periods or epochs in time, from the Middle Ages up until the (relative) present. The book opens with a quote from a “prophecy” that will become a major part of the plot later in the narrative, followed by a “prologue” or sorts, written by a fictional publisher – that is, the one, within the world of the story, who is in the process of publishing the chronicle. The ensuing chapters are all written by historians or chroniclers from the Island who write the Island’s history from an explicitly Christian (and Orthodox) perspective. Each chapter begins and ends with the rise and fall of a new ruler. Likewise, as time flows from one generation to another, the “narrator” of the text frequently changes hands, as each “chronicler” dies and another takes his place. In stark contrast with most of the Island’s rulers, the chroniclers are self-described pious and humble men (often monks), while the rulers are largely corrupt and dominated by the passions and vices of power, money, vainglory, and the like.

Meanwhile, an ongoing commentary and subplot written by Prince Parfeny and Princess Ksenia, former rulers on the Island who are (at present) 347 years old, frequently interrupts the chronicle itself. Like the chroniclers, Parfeny and Ksenia live pious, righteous lives and feature prominently in the prophecy mentioned in the beginning of the book. They are the sole exemplars of good, pious political rulership on the Island, but like the ancient Israelites at the base of Mt. Sinai, the people of the Island often reject them in favor of the myth of “progress.” Meanwhile, Parfeny and Ksenia, writing in the present, are working as consultants with a French film director, who is making a film about the Island and its royal couple.

Collectively, the various “times,” “narrators,” plots and subplots challenge modern notions of time, progress, history, politics, faith, and spirituality. To a certain extent, the novel functions as “a metaphor for European history,” as Vodolazkin has said elsewhere (in an article for First Things). As the fictional publisher says in the opening prologue, “The whole world has looked at what has taken place on the Island and reflected on the essence of history. Not only about our history but about history in general.” The format is innovative and seemingly “postmodern” for a novel, but as a medieval historian, Vodolazkin is actually mimicking ancient Byzantine and early Russian chronicles or annals, such as the sixth century The Chronographia of John Malalas or the early twelfth-century Tale of Bygone Years, which detail the history of Roman and Byzantine emperors or Russian rulers through the prism of biblical history. Vodolazkin effectively utilizes ancient historical genre in order to undermine Hegelian, Marxist, and capitalist conceptions of history and politics as “progressive.”

Reflecting on the observations of one of the chroniclers, Parfeny notes that,

It is interesting how Brother Ilary writes about progress. The
word had just come into fashion at the time and the chronicler avoids it when possible. He obviously does not like the
word: it appeared on the Island with the first bombs.
I recall our conversation with Ilary. He said then that
history’s primary event was the incarnation of Christ. That
had already occurred and so history generally had no more
serious tasks.
“It is now the universal history of moving away from
Christ,” said Ilary.
“Moving away in all senses?” I asked, to clarify.
He nodded:
“Perhaps it is even like this: it is the history of universally
moving away from Christ. Hope is now placed on personal
history.”
When Ilary said at another time that history had set off
on a false course, Ksenia asked why he wrote.
“I am writing the history of an error,” responded Brother
Ilary.
Ksenia and I were recalling him today. He departed
from our life forever. Small, redheaded, with a beard that did
not grow well. That is what the enemies of progress looked
like. (115-116)

One of the most striking features of the book is the way in which Vodolazkin contrasts fictional characters, places, and events with real names and places. For example, there are numerous references to names and places that correspond to “reality” outside the novel’s fictional landscape – France, Russia, Joseph Stalin, the Irish, Charles Darwin, Bishop Kirill, etc., whereas almost everything (except for the personal names of the rulers, bishops, etc.) pertaining to or relating to the “Island” remains unnamed and nondescript – the Island, the Mainland, the City, the Main Square, the Mountain, Mr. Brand (the chairman of Mainland Oil Company), etc. In this sense, just as the novel disrupts modern notions of time (as that which flows “progressively” from past to present to future), so too does it question the metaphysics of reality. What counts as “real,” as opposed to fiction? Likewise, as the plot transitions from the Middle Ages into the modern and contemporary age, the chroniclers continue to interpret history through a biblical and supernatural lens, while various “modern” voices cast doubt on the notion of divine providence as a mediating or driving force within human history. At one point, the fictional publisher Phillip expresses “his amazement at the naivete of the Middle Ages” (81). In the Middle Ages, Phillip observes, comets were thought to be dragons, whereas in the modern era, as Parfeny notes, “a dragon is taken for a comet” (82). In the same exchange, Parfeny argues that there is one basic question that divides the medieval world from the modern: “the circumstances of the world’s creation.” Science, he says, will never provide an adequate answer to that question because it “studies only the physical world but in order to explain that world as a whole, one must leave its confines. And there’s nowhere for science to go” (81).

At one point, Parfeny comments on a legend recounted in the chronicle about the creation of cats. According to the chronicler (who is repeating a Hebrew folk story), the devil once transformed into a mouse and began gnawing at the bottom of Noah’s Ark. “Noah then prayed to God and a lion sneezed, releasing from his nostrils a tomcat and a she-cat, and they strangled the mouse. That is how cats, who are still a rarity in our land, came about” (10). Parfeny then notes that “the modern reader will regard [this story] as steeped in legend,” contrasing ancient legend and myth with modern notions of Darwinian evolution. For Parfeny, storytelling, regardless of scientific observation, is “wonderful,” and “all that is wonderful is true in some way” (10). Parfeny then goes on to claim that Darwin “was not contradicting a biblical text,” but he was insensitive to poetry and was unable “to hear metaphor” (10-11) (cf. Paul Riceour’s notion of the “second naiveté”). Because Parfeny and Ksenia’s lives span three and half centuries, they are able to accept the validity of modern science without denying the larger, metaphysical insights of the medieval world and the biblical narrative.

Part of Volodazkin’s genius is his ability to encase an explicitly biblical and medieval worldview within a decidedly postmodern plot structure (or anti-structure), both of which are marked by fragmentation, allegory, metaphor, pastiche, deferral, and difference. While postmodernism – in both literature and philosophy – tends to eschew transcendence (as in Deleuze) or metaphysics (as in Derrida), Volodazkin has constructed a complex narrative that undermines the pretenses of modern literature and philosophy without supplanting transcendence, while at the same time subverting modern political ideologies (communism, capitalism, etc.) and abuses of power writ large. While the medieval naiveté strikes modern characters like Phillip as outlandish, Volodazkin cleverly characterizes the modern and secular rulers (who variously represent the excesses of communism and globalization) as becoming increasingly more absurd as the Island embraces the waves of secularism, communism, capitalism, and globalization. The real naiveté, for Volodazkin, is to believe that history or politics is progressing toward a brighter future. According to one of the chroniclers (Brother Ilary), history pivots on the Incarnation of Christ, and it is foolish to believe that history could possibly “progress” beyond the moment when divinity itself dwelled in human flesh. Again, Parfeny’s commentary is illuminating:

It is interesting how Brother Ilary writes about progress. The
word had just come into fashion at the time and the chronicler avoids it when possible. He obviously does not like the
word: it appeared on the Island with the first bombs.
I recall our conversation with Ilary. He said then that
history’s primary event was the incarnation of Christ. That
had already occurred and so history generally had no more
serious tasks.
“It is now the universal history of moving away from
Christ,” said Ilary.
“Moving away in all senses?” I asked, to clarify.
He nodded:
“Perhaps it is even like this: it is the history of universally
moving away from Christ. Hope is now placed on personal
history.”
When Ilary said at another time that history had set off
on a false course, Ksenia asked why he wrote.
“I am writing the history of an error,” responded Brother
Ilary.
Ksenia and I were recalling him today. He departed
from our life forever. Small, redheaded, with a beard that did
not grow well. That is what the enemies of progress looked
like. (115-116)

Perhaps another way to put it, following the work of Hartmut Rosa, is to say that history is not progressing toward a brighter future; rather, it is accelerating, moving at ever faster and faster speeds (i.e., industrialization, globalization, technological innovations, etc.) toward its own self-destruction. Yet, because of the Incarnation, history is not without hope, a theme which Volodazkin utilizes to great effect as the novel reaches its climactic conclusion (which I will not spoil).

Another important theme is peace. Parfeny and Ksenia are ideal rulers, even though the people ultimately reject them. Throughout the narrative, they broker peace between warring factions and embody a Christ-like kenosis in almost everything they say and do. Despite the Island’s proclivity toward war, the royal couple, in conjunction with the bishops (who function as both priests and prophets), are persistent witnesses to the possibility of peace.

In sum, A History of the Island is as brilliant as it is enjoyable. It challenges much of modern and contemporary culture, especially its understanding of history and politics. It sits comfortably within the genres of postmodernism and magical realism, utilizing medieval history and theology as a creative literary device that pushes beyond the limitations of (post)modern literature and invites the reader to enter into a different world than the one we have presently constructed.

(I requested and received an advanced copy from NetGallery in exchange for an honest review.)

I had the honor to read the upcoming English translation of A History of the Island. I'd never heard of Eugene Vodolazkin prior to this. It's brilliant and charming and odd and unexpected. I'm always grasping for something new. In the abundance of books I read, stories take a circular pattern and I find myself bogged down and disappointed. This wasn't like that at all. Vodolazkin's cleverness and originality are on full display. I enjoyed it so much that I picked up his previous works.

As far as the content goes, what is described is exactly what you get. The book is primarily made up of the writings of Monks through the ages telling the History of the Island. There are also sections of commentary on these events plus the current happenings of two royals. The chapters are separated based on whoever is ruling the Island at the time. As a history lover, I can't give enough credit to Vodolazkin for what he has accomplished. While a work of fiction, this feels so alive.

I received a free copy of A History of the Island, by Eugene Vodolazkin, from the publisher and Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. Does this island really exist, this book is very tongue in cheek. The monks and people on this island throughout history is very intriguing.