This was such a profound story, raising philosophical questions, and reaching deep into your heart. This really raises the question about our personal identity, and how it's defined, especially when who you thought you were is ripped away. (I've been in that position, and had to suddenly redefine who I thought I was, and I thought this did an excellent job of embodying all the complicated emotions that go along with it). Seeing Gleb's story play out through Sergei's lens just adds more depth to everything. Overall, this was a fascinating story, that pulls you along with a unique literary voice. Highly recommend. ( )

I've read all of Vodolazkin's novels with such pleasure. He appeals to all of my reading preferences--he's erudite, he's funny, he is a magnificent prose stylist. I've loved this novel enough to buy it three times and give it to other readers I know will also love it. My only disappointment is that it isn't Laurus--no other book can be Laurus--and sometimes I felt the urge to take Laurus down from the shelf and read it again instead. But honestly--read all of Vodolozkin's novels. You will be dazzled. ( )

"If you look at it more broadly, I think even paradise is an internal state."

Thoughts of this nature and similar ideas pervade not only this novel, but Vodolazkin's writing in general. And that's the appeal, as well as his unusual plots.

In this novel, the author shares a certain thing with his protagonist - both were born in Kyiv, Ukraine, and then moved to St. Petersburg, Russia. The protagonist (a famous musician) proceeded to live abroad, while Vodolazkin himself still lives in St. Petersburg at the moment. The writing is lyrical, touching.

But the moment of publication of this novel (during the time leading to Russia's invasion of Ukraine and during the war itself) made me question the motivation of this writer that I, so far, admired (having read all his books) - why is he so ambiguous about the Ukraine-Russia question that surfaces in his novel time and again?... I couldn't come up with the answer. It might be that he is still a citizen of Russia and knows to tread lightly (?).... ( )

This is a Russian novel about a guitarist who develops Parkinson's. For most of the book he is reviewing his life and coming to terms with his diagnosis, and the fact that it will end his career.

Parts of the book were interesting. The main character is Ukrainian and Russian (as I think is the author) so that was interesting from a current event standpoint. And the parts about his musical education, and relationships with his parents and the two countries was interesting. Overall though, it was a bit of a slog for me to read. It might have been in part timing.... I maybe need to read something easier right now. ( )

BRISBANE is a novel quite unlike others I've read. Perhaps it seems different because the setting is equally divided between Kyiv and St Petersburg - Ukraine and Russia (with a little of Munich thrown into the mix later in the story) - a division that figures so prominently in today's headlines. Russia's recent unprovoked invasion of Ukraine has very likely colored my initial impressions of this novel. I should probably note that the author himself - Kyiv-born, St Petersburg-based Eugene Vodolazkin - appears to harbor divided loyalties himself in this respect.

In short, the protagonist, internationally famous guitarist, Gleb Yanovsky, agrees to allow the writer, Sergei "Nestor" Nesterov, to spend time with him and write an in-depth, very personal biography. The writing itself takes place over a two-year period, 2012-2014. So the narrative alternates between Nestor's crafted version of Gleb's life from his childhood right up to the present (2014), and Gleb's own notes about what is happening to him during this two year period, which takes us, of course, right into the initial Russian incursion into Crimea and the Donbas in 2014.

Probably because of what is happening in the world right now, I was intially drawn to certain passages about the Russia-Ukraine relationship as it appeared in Gleb's life. For example, when Nestor asks Gleb if use of the Ukrainian language was forbidden when he was growing up in Kyiv in the seventies, or if there was a nationality issue, Gleb responds -

"Russian was the more prestigious language, shall we say. Everyone realized you couldn't get anywhere without it. I'd put it this way: The question of prestige stands above national identity. When that identity becomes a matter of prestige, then that's another matter."

This push-and-pull between Ukrainian and Russian was a continuing issue for Gleb as he grew up and matured. His parents divorced when he was quite young, and he ended up being raised mostly by his maternal grandmother, with frequent contacts with his paternal grandfather, Mefody, and occasional visits from his father, Fyodor, both of whom often spoke Ukrainian, or switched back and forth between languages. And then, during a visit to St Petersburg where a maiden aunt taught Russian at the university -

"He was shaken by the Russian language as he'd never heard it, with its own exquisite melody and, of course, words ... Crystalline Russian, the best Gleb had ever heard. He fell in love with its individual sounds, its overall intonations, its rhythm - everything that comprises the music of the Russian language."

Yeah, me too. I first began to study Russian at the ripe old age of 32, and, like Gleb, fell in love with its sounds. However, despite the many political connections and implications that could be discussed here, I was even more impressed - in love even - with the story of a young Gleb Yanovsky, his coming of age and first sexual experience - he always remembered the scent of his first love's "youthful womanly body ... the fragrance of Anna Lebed's flesh." And later, when he meets Katya at the university, the German student who would later become his wife, the tale of their first encounter on New Year's Eve is simply delightful - innocent and not, all at the same time. And theirs is a love story that has its ups and downs, as they remain childless, much to Katya's sorrow. And then, when it seems they will experience a special kind of parenthood, that too ends in sorrow and grief.

There is much here, of course, of political upheaval - the military putsch and the Gorbachev years and dissolution of the USSR - as well as a thorough look at Gleb's musical education and how he came to be internationally famous. But for me, the heart of this novel is the love story of Gleb and Katya, college sweethearts whose love endured. It brought back so many personal memories. And it didn't matter that their story took place in Russia, Ukraine and Germany, while ours began at a small Michigan college (and later ranged as far as California and overseas to Germany). A good love story is a good love story. Period. I know that there's much in the political realm to contemplate here, but I prefer the more personal parts. Oh, and Brisbane? It's a state of mind, or perhaps a dream of heaven, voiced by Gleb's mother, trying desperately to find some happiness of her own.

BRISBANE is, in a few words, a damn good novel. Beautifully translated from the Russian by Marian Schwartz, I enjoyed it immensely, and will probably seek out more books by Vodolazkin (who is, by the way, a bestselling author in Russia). My very highest recommendation.

- Tim Bazzett, author of the memoir, BOOKLOVER ( )