Garrett Kenyon at LitKicks offers extremely high praise for The Line, Olga Grushin’s second novel. Here’s what Kenyon has to say about Grushin’s first novel:
Among those who did catch it, comparisons to Eastern luminaries like Nikolai Gogol and Mikhail Bulgakov became de rigueur, exceeded only by references to Vladimir Nabokov, the still-reigning American writer from Russia. Inevitably, when gifted new writers with foreign roots make a splash, they’re automatically compared to the most renowned of their countrymen. In Grushin’s case, the comparisons were apt. Her mastery of English (her third language) recalled the playful acrobatics of Nabokov, her ability to mine drollery from dreariness recalled Gogol, and like Bulgakov, she vividly crafted a realistic world infused with magic that, while less overt, was nearly as dazzling. Grushin’s genius was most evident when she ushered us into the minds of outwardly dull characters, where layer upon layer of random thoughts and perceptions mingled with fragments of memories and dreams to weave a mystical tapestry from the most banal experiences.
And now the second:
It begins when Anna encounters a short line, just forming in front of a closed kiosk. No one knows what they’re waiting for and an animated conversation revolves around what exactly “it” could be. Guesses are modest at first, basic necessities or trivial luxuries that might add a fleeting moment of color to their grim existence. But eventually, as their conjecture becomes a reflection of their innermost desires, Anna becomes enthralled. She tells herself it’s “silly” to waste time in a line without knowing what’s to be gained. But eventually, feeling “entitled to a surprise,” she gives in.
Oddly, no reference is made to Vladimir Sorokin’s The Queue, which sounds extremely similar.
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If I recall correctly, the NY Times review didn’t mention Sorokin’s book either. Odd indeed.