Absurdistan: A Novel

ABSURDISTAN is an entertaining novel - a witty and clever evisceration of the modern world-at-large, grubbily clawing its way out of the Cold War and scrambling for petro-dollars. It is funny and uncomfortable, a snapshot on the eve of Sept. 11 which leaves no stone unturned while looking for an overwrought subject to puncture; not American war-profiteering, not the Institution of the Holocaust, not even Gary Shteyngart himself. But as well as cynically rubbing our noses in the dirty secrets of globalism and multiculturalism, ABSURDISTAN also questions what a person of honesty, integrity and ability can do about it. It also questions what can be done by a man who has none of those things - nothing except the naïve belief that one person can make a difference.So we follow Misha Vainberg, 325 lb adolescent in a man's body, as he stumbles from one crisis to the next in his frustrated attempt to reach the holy grail of both America and his lost love, Rouenna, a girl he met and fell in love with during a brief stint as a student in New York. Stuck in his native Russia after being denied a return visa to the U.S, he travels to neighboring Absurdistan to buy a forged Belgium passport, hoping to eventually sidestep the INS. Unfortunately, this short detour turns indefinite when civil war breaks out - a civil war engineered to bring USAID dollars and to turn a tidy profit for civilian contractor Halliburton.Idealists may be offended by Mr. Shteyngart's cynicism, cynics may feel as though he's preaching to the choir. Nevertheless, his autopsy of the modern world is thorough, entertaining and disturbing. Like Heller before him, there's a feeling that he's placed his finger directly where the pulse used to be, but that, despite piling absurdity on absurdity, one feels he's only shown you the tip of the entire preposterous iceberg.So - entertaining, yes. Funny and clever and witty - and if one only reads novels to be entertained, then I highly recommend ABSURDISTAN. But somehow I feel as though it's all rather empty in the end. Vainberg's life seems empty. It isn't so much that he's tossed about from one storm to another - everyone suffers from that to some degree, just as we all suffer from a incomplete understanding of our surroundings and an inability to act in our own best interest at times. It's that there's nothing more to the world of Vainberg than Vainberg - which could very well be the author's point. It could be that the intention was to purposely create this self-absorbed character in order to point it out for us, yet it doesn't feel that way. Rather, I feel led to believe that Vainberg is the modern day hero, that his final thrust toward personal fulfillment is the only true quest that is open to humanity anymore. A Don Quixote to whom knight-errantry is a sucker's game and chivalry is less effective than pornography.Or maybe that isn't what the author is saying at all. Or perhaps it is, and he's right. Seems depressing to me to think so. If I have to read an absurdist, I'd just as well stick with one in the vein of Camus - one who can make the Sisyphean task in front of us seem ennobling rather than just another punch line in a long, clever joke.

Shteyngart's "Absurdistan" is a beautifully written piece of self-conscious satire. The central character -- a wealthy, overweight Russian ideologue named Misha -- is trying to get back to America, but INS won't issue him a visa because his dad once murdered an Oklahoman businessman (as if Oklahoma is running out of those). Occasionally, Misha spouts out neutered rap lyrics or tries to use his money to assist those less fortunate (he does both things with equal measures of success). The novel doesn't really take off until he boards a flight to the country of Absurdistan in an attempt to secure a Beligan passport. It turns out that Absurdistan is suffering from a civil unrest caused by two opposed religious factions (which are more alike than they aren't), as well as the country's off-shore oil rigs and an unapologetic American military presence.It's not hard to figure out what Shteyngart's getting at, especially since so many people have gotten at it with far fewer words. This is the first time, though, I've seen the subject approached with such floozy seriousness. Shteyngart's writing skills are gorgeous and his sense of humor touching, but his pace is uneven and his tone is fractured. The book is nutty and deeply human in equal amounts, and the two elements are not well-stirred. Be prepared to laugh at the ludicrous looniness of it all, and then be prepared for scenes of quite disturbing brutality.By trying to make his book's purpose all the more pointed, Shteyngart shaves off the blunt edges that make it easier to swallow. And Misha, our anti-hero, is the kind of person you hope to see grow into something eventually likeable, but who changes about as much as a rifle scope. For someone with such a powerful command of the English language, Shteyngart seems to have little confidence in himself or his characters. He even includes, for Misha, a sort of nemesis in love, a Russain novelist called Jerry Shteynfarb who comes across as a smarmy, horny hack. How unfortunate that the same words could accurately describe Misha?Even if the book's poignance often cripples it, it also provides it some saving grace, as the book's final lines are testament to. Even if they are a tad on the nose, they do offer a counter-point to the book's hilariously depressing (depressingly hilarious) other half. There's a point where you realize that the only reason you're laughing at the story is because you know just how true it is. That in itself is something worth lauding. Here's to the hope that someday we'll live in a world where books like "Absurdistan" are funny because of how little they represent reality, and not vice versa.

This is a novel that is so incredibly fraught with potential to be the great comic novel of out time. I would go so far as to put it in the realm of Heller's Catch-22.IF.IF the book had been edited, I would say this. I don't blame Shteyngart. He writes some seriously hilarious stuff in here, even going so far as to posit the masterminds behind the Iraq war. (Who ever thought they'd read a comic novel featuring Halliburton?!) A good editor would have smoothed out Shteyngart's witticisms or, at the least, directed them in a different style. What should have been an overarching comedic theme winds up being a set of disjointed one-liners that are, at best, as another reviewer put it "Self-deprecating." Perhaps another way to express my distaste (though it may work for you) is to say that parts of this book made me feel like I was reading a script for a sequel to "Borat." With a decent edit, I would have easily placed this in the 5-star realm and added it to my own personal canon of great humorous literature.Does that mean I would not recommend this novel? Hell no! It is truly awesome, and the work of a writer I'm sure we will be hearing much more of in the future. Shteyngart is a master of voice and character. No one is saved from the sweet cruelty of his pen. Our protagonist is a big fat jerk, but he's a lovable Train-Wreck of a big fat jerk, and one that we somehow pull for in the end. Not since O'Toole's Ignatius J. Reilly have we seen this class of unlikely protagonist.All that said, is this a book for everyone? No. I can see where many people would not understand the humor. A reader who has an understanding of world events and geography will certainly benefit from that knowledge in regard to this novel.I have spoken.

Misha Vainberg, son of Boris Vainberg, is the 1,238th richest man in Russia. Educated in the US at Accidental College, and a former resident of New York City, he can’t re-enter the US from his home in St. Petersburg, because the State Department is perturbed about his dad murdering an Oklahoman businessman. Honestly, those Americans and their principles. In St. Petersburg, Misha’s dad is murdered. Witnessing Papa’s death and being unable to get back to the States to be with the girl he loves (a barely literate stripper who he’s is putting through college), Misha thesophisticate and melancholic becomes decidedly more melancholic. Besides, he’s too Americanized to live in Russia, where there isn’t even much rap music. So, Misha travels to Absurdistan, an oil-rich country on the Caspian that most Americans can’t even find on a map, and bribes a diplomat to get him Belgian citizenship. But then a war breaks out between two rival and nearly identical factions and poor rich Misha is trapped. He hides out in the Hyatt, surviving on buffalo-wings and Johnny Walker black label, but his money has limits (everything, Misha realizes, has limits). Perennially naïve and believing he’s much more charitable than he really is (he keeps claiming to be the head of a charity for children), the junior Vainberg gets caught up in Adbsurdi politics and that’s when things get truly, well, absurdi. Will he ever get out of this odd little country? Will he make it back to the land of liberty and the titty-bar girl he loves?That’s the plot: simple, but fleshed out by beautiful writing and boundless quirkiness and fun. I must say that I loved this novel. Gary Shteyngart has the literary flare of Martin Amis, the wonderful oddness of Kurt Vonnegut, and the eccentric Jewish humour of Mordecai Richler. Indeed, I’ve read few books as funny or well-written and don’t know how anyone could give it less than five stars. If Shteyngart weren’t a satirist, he’d probably be considered one of America’s most gifted writers, but satire is his game and he plays it better than possibly anyone. Here’s a writer I will read again.Troy Parfitt is the author of Why China Will Never Rule the World and War Torn: Adventures in the Brave New Canada.

I just can't make up my mind about this book! I loved the wild, madcap ride as Misha Vainberg - a Russian by citizenship, a Jew "by nationality", a "sophisticate and melancholic" by profession - flounders his strangely innocent way into more and more bizarre circumstances in his desperate request to return to America and his heart's desire.I say "strangely innocent" because Misha's father is a "bisnezmen", who is both the source of the wealth that allows Misha to lead this chaotic life, and the source of all his problems - Beloved Papa killed an Oklahoman, and now the US State Department (to whom this book is addressed) won't allow our poor boy to return to the land, and the lady, of his dreams. Yet somehow Misha, whilst knowing full well what his father was, seems to have no connection to that world - even though his father's gangster colleagues pop up at every turn!The narrator is one of life's losers, and painfully self-aware of the fact; he manages to retain our sympathy whilst having, in fact, few good qualities. Yet somehow, whatever happens, this bumbling, confused incompetent muddles through.The theme is the pain of the immigrant, not at home in his past, yet unable to grasp the future of his dreams. The tone is wicked, and sometimes very funny satire as Misha travel to Respublika Absurdisvani in search of a Visa. (It is located north of Iran, east of Armenia and west of the Caspian, in case you were wondering.) The targets are New York intelligentsia, American corporate mentality, post-Soviet corruption, and many other things en route. But finally, and perhaps most of all, it is about Misha's complicated relationship with his father - a peculiar mixture of love and hate between two men bound together by kinship and separated by mutual incomprehension, tinged with revulsion.But the downside is that Misha sees his life through the prism of the mutilation performed on a delicate portion of his anatomy by a botched circumcision performed by "drunken Hasids" when he was eighteen (and for which Beloved Papa is also responsible). His insecurities, his happiness, is all focussed there. And this leads to endless descriptions of sexual acts: we see Misha having sex, not having sex, reminiscing about sex, wishing he could be having sex - over and over again. Shteyngart seems obsessed with describing the sights, sounds, sensations and smells - particularly the smells - of sex. It all gets a bit much.And this is compounded by the language Misha thinks in. I was euphemistic in the above paragraph; Misha is not. The worst terms from Russian obscene vocabulary are always used. I can't help having the suspicion that Shteyngart is sneering at his readers - like the child in the school playground who delights in repeating a 'naughty' word over & over again, simply because he knows his hearers don't know how bad it is.So, in conclusion, this is a very mixed bag. It is sometimes hilariously funny. But all the "mat'" and sweaty, unerotic sex results in the impression of diamonds buried in, well, "der'mo" [edited to remove worse word].

Maya J's review is spot on so I won't attempt to better that description of the plot points or the novel's blend of satire and farce, but I did want to add a couple of points to it.That review overlooks the Jewish themes that run throughout the novel, and Jewish behaviour is one of the key targets for Shteyngart's absurd satire.Finally there was something a bit too familiar about Misha Vainberg, who reminded me a good deal too much of the central character in Bo Fowler's "The Astrological Diary of God". Although Fowler's book targets religion and worship rather than Russian and US cultures, there are several parallels. Ultimately though I would recommend "The Astrological Diary Of God" more than this because it has a greater success rate when it comes to hitting the mark.Also, it's a limp criticism I know but the ending of "Absurdistan" feels hurried and flat, and I think it's the last 10 pages or so that are the real cause of the "um... what was the point of that?" feeling that this book does give you at the end. But up until that point, it's definitely worth reading.

I was expecting a light-hearted, funny read with some resonating truth lurking behind about expats in the middle east. What I got was a very occasional laugh, farcical coincidences relied upon to develop the plot which never seemed to make sense. It felt like the author was aiming to re-create Catch22, but fundamentally failed to do so, the characters don't really stand up alone and the plot jumps around too much to convey a coherent "absurd" plot.

In 1990, after the break up of the Soviet Union, Boris Vainberg, a Russian Jew already on the way to becoming a wealthy oligarch, sends his 18 year-old and grossly overweight son Misha to be educated at Accidental College in the American Mid-West with a view to him making his fortune in the US.Eight years later, in possession of an American degree and after he had enjoyed an opulent life-style in New York on Papa's money, Misha is back in St Petersburg on a visit.His father has murdered an Oklahoma businessman, and Misha is denied a visa to return to the US. The EU won't have him either.Then Boris, now the 1,238th richest man in Russia, is murdered by Oleg the Moose, a former partner-oligarch with whom he has fallen out. Oleg is in is in with the governor of St Petersburg, so there is no chance of prosecuting him. He will take over Boris' empire and pay Misha $28 million. Misha will accept, or else ...For this - and other reasons I must not divulge - he wants to get out of Russia. He is told that the Belgian counselor in Svanï City, the capital of the former Soviet and now independent Republic of Absurdsvanï (or Absurdistan), would, for a consideration, get him a passport as a Belgian citizen.The Caspian Sea off Svanï City is studded with oil rigs, and the city is studded with the the tower blocks of multinational companies that have moved in to exploit the oil (and sometimes to be themselves exploited. Why, Boris Vainberg had become an iconic figure to the Absurdis because he had once got five million dollars out of the local subsidiary of Halliburton for a piece of equipment worth a tiny fraction of that amount.) The Absurdi natives belong to two rival Christian sects, the Svanï and the Sevo, deeply divided over the angle of the footrest on the Orthodox crucifix (and over the route of the pipeline that was to be built). Civil war breaks out between them just as Misha takes delivery of his Belgian passport in Svanï Ciy; the airport is closed, and he is trapped there. The airport remains closed during a prolonged truce between the sects. Not that Misha minds: he is cocooned in the Hyatt Hotel where he can eat and can fornicate on a massive scale with a girl whose father is a big noise among the Sevo. Then the war resumes; Mischa is appointed Sevo minister with the special mission of enlisting the help of Israel and of American Jews for the Sevo people, who are said to have protected the Mountain Jews of the Caucasus during the Nazi invasion. And then ... we get to a pretty chaotic ending which I must not reveal, except to say that the story plumbs the uttermost depths of cynicism.The book is raunchy and randy (considerably overdoing it, in my opinion). Its humour is often crude and juvenile. Its satire about the corruption of the post-communist world, both East and West, is boisterous rather than subtle. There is the richness of imagery and the Jewish humour (and the same plethora of four letter words) that we also find in Michael Chabon's `The Yiddish Policemen's Union' (which happens to be the previous book I have reviewed on Amazon). And both books go in for the kind of Hasid-bashing which a non-Jewish author would avoid for fear of offending against political correctness.The New York Times Book Review chose it as one of the ten best books of 2006. I must say I had credited that august publication with more maturity.