Alisa Ganieva

The story was fine (there are bits of fable, magical realism, dystopia) but this gives a great feel for ethnic tensions and religious extremism in the modern-day Caucasus region. This is the first Dagestani book translated into English and I read in a review that the names of characters had historical reference and meaning so I'm sure I missed some nuance. I plan to read Ganieva's second novel [b:Bride and Groom|34146777|Bride and Groom|Alisa Ganieva|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1544476546l/34146777._SY75_.jpg|45087018].… (mais)

Interesting multi-threaded novel set in the Russian republic of Dagestan as it succumbs to Islamic fundamentalism in the wake of the Russians (rumour has it) having had enough of its troublemaking and decided to wall it off from the rest of the country. The main character, a young semi-employed journalist, wanders round the capital Makhachkala overhearing political diatribes, witnessing random acts of violence, and running into a wide range of friends, family and acquaintances. Wild Dagestani weddings seem to occur every couple of chapters, the prose is liberally salted with vocab from the myriad local languages and from Arabic (glossed awkwardly at the end of the book rather than in footnotes), and there’s general chaos, confusion, and characters whose identity isn’t clear. A frustrating read at times, but not without a certain scruffy charm.… (mais)

The Mountain and the Wall is the first novel by Alisa Ganieva, a native Russian, born in Moscow, moved to Dagestan as a child, and then back to Moscow for university. This is the story of Shamil right before and during the hypothetical building of a wall that will separate Russia from Dagestan. Following those rumors (or are they?) the town of Makhachkala is in turmoil when extremist Muslims try to enforce Sharia law. The usual that we see today (especially in Eastern Turkey): blowing up and burning of museums, no TV or internet access, all women must dress in hajib, railroad tracks are torn apart, musical instruments and books taken to the town square and burned. All businesses owned by women were confiscated. The reader sees this through the eyes of Shamil, a "writer"???, who doesn't seem to work and is not the most likeable fellow.

I really tried to like this book but came away cold. Firstly, there were so many (as many as 12 on one page) foreign words (you couldn't get from context). I read this on Kindle so the word translations were in the glossary on the last page and to flip back and forth 4-5 times per page just didn't work for me. I can't believe there were that many words that couldn't be translated. If one is going to read it, I would suggest a hard copy. Secondly, it just wasn't interesting. I found it to be mundane. There were no shockers or surprises; most of this information I've gotten from news programs. 264 pages 2 1/2 stars.… (mais)

Salam, Dalgat! describes a young man's experiences during a single day in the city of Makhachkala. Dalgat needs to find his uncle to deliver a document to him (as with many other details in this very compact story, Ganieva leaves us in the dark about what the document is and why it matters). As he chases the uncle around the city, never quite catching up with him, he's forever being interrupted by friends, relatives and strangers who greet him (hence the title) and try to draw him into something complicated. Through these Ulysses-like episodes, Ganieva gives us a lightning (and relatively light-hearted) tour of the problems and joys of Dagestan. Amongst other things, we spend some time in the aunt's house, attend a Soviet-style book launch (with speeches so boring that even the dignitaries who give them are disheartened by the whole thing), take part in a rowdy wedding party, and look over Dalgat's shoulder as he reads the opening chapter of a lyrical travel book about Dagestan. Dalgat is urged to become a better Muslim, to avoid (and by someone else, to join) the Islamist extremists who clearly threaten the stability of the republic, to join the senseless fighting of teenage gangs, to buy pictures or poetry, to marry a nice girl, to pay more attention to the corruption of the Russian administration, to run away from all this to St Petersburg, etc. Ganieva obviously had a lot of fun coming up with things to happen to Dalgat, but she doesn't make him interesting or curious as a personality: he never reacts to anything that's proposed to him other than to brush it away more or less politely, like a teenager who hates decisions almost as much as he hates other people trying to push him into taking them. I suspect there's more than a little Meursault in his make-up, as well as a big chunk of Stephen Daedalus.

This is an idea that would probably have grated on me in a longer book, but it works really well in the 70-page novella format. I learnt something about Dagestan without being made to feel I was getting a geography lesson, I enjoyed the glimpses of street life, and I found Joëlle Dublanchet's French translation very readable and quite unobtrusive.… (mais)