A Terrible Country

It’s sort of a miracle that I even checked out from the library Keith Gesson’s novel, a terrible country, much less read it.

As it’s a sad book. A sweet and sad book, it’s true. With absurdly funny moments that made me laugh. Also true. And a “happy” ending—more or less.

But overall sad, nonetheless. 

Generally, I stay away from said stuff be it books movies or shows on tv. On the grounds that real life is sad enough without adding to the misery. Probably my loss—as I’m undoubtedly missing out on a lot of good stuff.

In the case of Keith Gessen’s novel a terrible country, I would have missed out on the story of Andryusha (Andrei in English) a 33-year-old adjunct college professor of Russian literature, who returns to his homeland to take care of his grandmother. As he states in the opening paragraph…

In the late summer of 2008, I moved to Moscow to take care of my grandmother. She was about to turn ninety and I hadn’t seen her for nearly a decade. My brother Dima and I were her only family; her lone daughter, our mother, had died years earlier. Bab Seva lived alone now in her old Moscow apartment. When I called to tell her I was coming, she sounded very happy to hear it, and also a little confused.”

I read that opening and I was hooked. It carries with it an edge of subtle resignation, a comical self awareness of a man who knews his life is falling apart and that there’s not much he can do with it except return to the country his parents desperately escaped when he was just a boy. Why not? It couldn’t get worse. Even though of course it can. And might. And youll have to read it yourself to find out.

The terrible countryis of course Russian which is undergoing gangster style gentrification which is making some people fabulously wealthy and other peope (most people) unbearably desperate. Theres not enough of anything for the vast majority of people who watch the rich and well connecte race around town in their Mercedes limousings, guzzing expenisve booze, hanging out with gorgeous bleached blondes and just in general flaunting their wealth and connections.

Sorta like parts of mayor rahms Chicago. When you think about it. Andrei’s grand mother rails against her country almost every chance she gtes as well she should. As shes survived one unspeakable horror after another. Including the nazi invasion and the Stalin purge and the generalie lonelness and fragility of of an old woman hanging on as her friends die and her family moves away. Got im getting sad just thinking about it.

And yet shes also refreshingly resilient. And one of my favotied moments occurs when she agrees to let Andrei throw a birthday party for her. She thinks she’s 100 even though she’s “only” 90, as Andrei tries to tell her. And so he accompoanies her on a weeks worth of party preparation as they buy pershiable foods like grapes which will either go rotten or get earen before the party. “And why not?” he decarles. “you only turn ninety once. Especially if you think you’re turning one hundred.”

An absurd yogi berra-like statement that sorta makes sense if you think about it. Like so manyt other things in Russia. I don’t want to give too much away, but…The party turns out to be a smashing success. Even though baba seva keeps asking whose party is it. To which the partygoers—mostly andreis’ friends—chorus back “it’s your party!” It’s my party?. Yes. “All right,” she agreed.

Its as though her dementia cleared up long enough for her to make fun of it—a triumph in and of itself well worth celebrating. Just like the book itself.