[tyclislavaify]

The trouble with fiction is that it's a lie.

The trouble with reality is that it's not fiction. It can still be a lie, though.

Un roman russe is, despite the title, neither a novel nor Russian, but rather a supposedly autobiographical account of Carr?re's struggle with his family's history and the breakdown of a relationship. After being sent to a small city in Russia to do a documentary on an ancient Hungarian WWII POW who has just been found in a mental hospital where he's been since 1946, Carr?re finds himself fascinated with both the people living there and with his own Russian roots, which his mother has always refused to talk about. And like any novelist worth his vodka will do, he starts narrating their stories, trying to draw parallels and find a story he wants to tell and a language he can tell it in. When his work leads to him neglecting his relationship, he writes his girlfriend into the narrative in the form of a pornographic short story in the 2nd person singular, published in Le Monde for all of France to read...

Except of course real people don't respond to a writer's every whim, and the illusion of control turns out to lead to nothing but frustration for our poor anti-hero when the people around him refuse to follow his script, or even react to it by stubbornly doing the exact opposite. And the few times they follow the script, it becomes even worse.

Un roman russe is an interesting, occasionally captivating, but ultimately not very sympathetic read. Carr?re's prose is fine, slips in easily and puts you right on the spot whether it's in 21st century Russia or 1940s France. The book is a subversion of the idea of the memoir/autobiography, pointing out the folly of trying to write other people into avatars of yourself, and the danger of assuming you can know someone as fully as you think. Humanity's big flaw and virtue: our need to have everything make sense, and if it doesn't, then goddamnit we'll make that sense. Which it does fine. Unfortunately, Carr?re himself often comes across as a self-obsessed jerk. Not necessarily an unrealistic one, but I find myself cringing on behalf of the people around him as often as I find myself profoundly uninterested in his own psychological issues, which he's only too happy to tell us about at great length. Poor little rich boy, to quote another Russian emigre.

What it all comes down to isn't really what's true or false, but that I can't really bring myself to care about it one way or the other. , even if it's not without its merits.

[Vomephems]

This does not sound very promising but very French when they mistake complexity with creativity.
Just out of curiousity,as you kept the title in French does it mean you read it in French or did they used the original title?
And please who is the other Russian imigre you quote?

[tyclislavaify]

Just out of curiousity,as you kept the title in French does it mean you read it in French or did they used the original title?

As far as I can see, there's no English translation available of this, so I kept the original title for this English review. The Swedish translation translates the title literally, and I guess if there's ever an English translation it'll likely be A Russian Novel, but who knows.

And please who is the other Russian imigre you quote? This one.

[Vomephems]

So after a little Wiki inspection,you were right about the title.The guy wrote a few novels (5),and was rewarded with the Prix femina for classes de neige.He seems to write mostly for cinema and did the adaptation for 3 Vargas novel.
This might explain some of your dislike in the structure of the book.
It is also why is name rung a bell but i could not place him.Just the wrong drawer.

Thanks for the link,this Regina woman rocks.I'll send the donkey.