I Love Russia by Elena Kostyuchenko
Russia. The dark, brooding land mass that looms over Europe to the East, and lords over central Asia to the South. Her misunderstood and complex soul is yet to be decoded by Western commentators in their pursuit for the unadulterated, unambiguous truth. Alas, her vast and profound soul eludes reason, and she remains impenetrable to single-minded Western academics.
Or so they say. The Russian state's actions, as incomprehensible as they may seem, are part of a bigger problem; a symptom of a disease that no administered medicine can cure. Elena Kostyuchenko, this year's Pushkin House book award winner, has examined the patient and found the rot in the gangrenous limbs, threatening to eat away at the body to slowly reach her heart.
Kostyuchenko's book is an anthology of her career as a journalist, tying together her works non-chronologically. Born in Yaroslavl, she details the beginnings of her career. In her work, it seems inextricably tied to a loss of innocence - her awakening. She loses her adopted brother in questionable circumstances - he was a sex worker with a history of drug and alcohol abuse. The glamourised version of Russia she holds dear is shattered by none other than Anna Politkovskaya, in her article about the war in Chechnya. These moments are seminal to her trajectory as a journalist. She eats the Apple of Knowledge, and from there, there is no going back.
The book opens outlining the aftermath of the collapse of the Soviet Union. Dark alleys with men in dark suits committing acts of violence; bright squares with men in dark suits being inaugurated into a position where they will enact future violence. The loss of an 'idyllic' past to a chilling and uncertain future. To those with a little more than a rudimentary knowledge of modern Russian history will instantly recognise the events Kostyuchenko describes, and her phenomenal prose draws you further into her narrative.
Each chapter centres around a theme or event, each different from the one that came before. It weaves between the reportage itself, Kostyuchenko's research process, and the difficulties she confronts along the way. The experiences of those on the periphery of society, the truly disenfranchised, are documented as a testament to the inefficiency of the state. It is a microcosmic view of the larger, deep-rooted issues Russian society faces. Topics of modernisation, environmental conservation, sex work and women's rights, terrorism, nationalism, and many others are discussed in-depth. They cease to be far away people from a social, political, and economic framework so alien to that in the West, and we see ourselves in each person we meet. The desire to be loved, listened to, appreciated. A hope for a better future, a vision of a better world.
Often, it reads not like a memoir or novella. It's snapshots. The disjointed events that stitch the patchwork blanket together shrouding Russia. Only they aren't disjointed; each patchwork-chapter is forced together by the state and joined by the thread of substance abuse. Another central theme to the book is the rampant prevalence of alcohol abuse, and in some cases drug abuse too. It is a tired and antiquated stereotype, that of the vodka-loving Russian, but the root must be addressed. Where almost 6 in every 100,000 people die of alcohol-induced death, we find that where the state fails, vodka welcomes you like an old friend.
So, does Kostyuchenko really love Russia? In the original Russian the book is titled 'Моя Любимая Страна' (Moya Lyubimaya Strana), which in a direct English translation is 'My Favourite Country'. A rather sarcastic title given the context. However. Kostyuchenko makes it abundantly clear that her love isn't for an inefficient, disjointed state, but for the people within. She loves the 127,301,097 people who don't live on Moscow or St Petersburg, and face the terrors of the state without the cushioning of modernisation and globalisation to break the fall.
A truly landmark book, 'I Love Russia' is essential reading for those interested in Russian domestic policy and social conditions.