Month: December 2020

By Jeffrey Eugenides (2002)

Middlesex is another case of high expectations – I didn’t read The Virgin Suicides until recently, but it was definitely close to the top of my fiction list last year. That book is incredibly economical, unforgettably eerie and has a genuinely innovative use of a collective unreliable narrator in the neighborhood boys.

Unfortunately I’m not sure Middlesex quite lives up to this. A sprawling – and comparatively conventional – family chronicle, the story follows three generations of a Greek family fleeing war-torn Anatolia in the 20s and settling in Detroit. The novelty here is the connecting thread is the passing down of a recessive gene – having its fateful expression in inbreeding and intersexuality.

Humanistic and amiable throughout … but doesn’t quite gel

By Mikhail Bulgakov (1925)

The Heart of a Dog is terrific fun. I was a bit hesitant because The Master and Margarita is so good, but it didn’t let me down (and continues the obsession with cats, dogs and devilry).

An updating of Frankenstein to Moscow life in the chaos of the 1920s USSR, it follows the misadventures of a dog rescued off the streets and patched up with various bits of fallen (human) comrades.

It’s a brutal satire of the attempts to create a “new socialist man”, but the effect is pretty timelessly funny, with the dog-creature ending up barking soviet propaganda and haphazardly swearing at everyone. Bulgakov saw it confiscated and banned in his lifetime; it’s a considerable mystery that that was the worst that happened to him.