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Yellow Blue OH MY GOD NO
modern lit
catvalente
Allow me to say upfront, in case it was not clear:

I am not Russian, nor do I play one on TV. I have not the smallest drop of Russian blood in me.

I am, however, married to a man who grew up in the former Soviet Union, and thus spend a lot of time with him. I also spend a lot of time with his family, all of whom lived through some pretty dire parts of the 20th century in Russia. I speak very terrible Russian on the level of a toddler. Rather notoriously, I've traveled to Russia, and most recently written an entire novel set in Leningrad, and thus done more research than you can shake a red stick at. Russian culture features extremely prominently in my life these days. I say this so that you will understand how frustrated I have become over the last two days, but not make the mistake of thinking I'm talking about my own culture.

I just finished reading Yellow Blue Tibia.

Oh my fucking god, you guys.

You know how sometimes (all the time) American movies and books will flip the R in the title to indicate one out to HOLD UP, THIS SHIT IS RUSSIAN, YO? Like so: я. This is, of course, maddening, no less than using a Greek lambda for an A when it is patently not an A. я is not an R, it goes: "ya." Incidentally, the cover of Yellow Blue Tibia is the single worst offender I have ever seen in this category, as it goes to bizarre lengths to make every English letter into some freakish version of a Russian one, including putting a line through a д to make an A, because I guess the Russian A--you know, A--wasn't Russian enough. I know the author isn't in charge of this, but I should have known, because the novel is the literary equivalent of this exact phenomenon. 

Is it a bad book? On its own merits I'd say no worse than mediocre. The plot: Stalin hires a bunch of SF writers to create a believable alien threat to unite the Communists against something other than America, which he assumes will fall within 5 years. The things they wrote then start coming true. Roberts is going for a Bulgakov meets Foucault's Pendulum sort of thing, with conspiracies that turn out to be true and a lot of madcap running around Moscow with clever asides and "incisive" satire on the Soviet system, but it doesn't really come off as clever or madcap or even very conspiratorial. When you have to have characters comment on how funny a protagonist is, he's not really that funny. If in a workshop I'd say that we get all of ten pages to care about the conspiracy these guys write, and pretty much no information on what it is besides "radiation aliens" + blow up Ukraine, so we have no investment in whether or not it's real. An on the sentence level almost every line is tortured and too full of clauses and robbed of any spirit by endless commas. But I had to do some breathing exercises to even analyze the book on that level because literally every cultural note in this entire novel is wrong.

I cannot even being to explain how much this book did it wrong. I'll give you the most glaring examples, not even getting into the little things that niggled once I gave up being immersed in the book and started actually thinking about why anyone would assume no one in 1940s Russia would speak French or how living in gaga-grad as a euphemism for crazy is not really a Russian-ism but an English-Russian-ism and not that funny anyway and ooh, I want to listen to Lady Gaga anything to get away from this thing. The fact is that the book would have been a lot more believable with all the names changed and set in England or America.

Firstly, Roberts has just ported the entire contempt for science fiction writers from the West right into Russia, with nothing changed, not even considering that there is a different culture of literature there and writers, even of SF, had a pretty high position that the protagonist would have no reason to hide with shame purely because of the genre he wrote. Yes, there is Soviet pulp, but the constant asides about how despised SF is and passive-aggressive defenses of how awesome it is, really, were meant for a Western audience, not authentic to Russia where fantastika has a long and rich tradition of not being spat on. Of course, one of the more egregious problems was that it seems not to have occurred to anyone in the editorial process that "science fiction" does not begin with SF in Russian, much less сф, as the protagonist makes much of while analyzing Josef Stalin's name to somehow contain the initials for science fiction. (In the Latin alphabet, Jehovah begins with an I...)

Then there's the names. Oh, the linguistic hugemanatee at work here! The main character's name is Konstantin, but his friends call him Konsty. Not, you know, Kostya, which is the actual diminutive and not even remotely hard to find out if you've ever read a Russian novel. Stalin makes fun of one Jan Frenkel for having a Slavic first name which he actually changed to Ivan, but seems to be cool not only with his German-Jewish surname, but the protagonist's surname, which is actually Czech. The one actual Russian word that's used is actually not correct at all, but an inexplicable mangling of the word for "dead." One character actually refers to the "x"s in the Russian alphabet, in a passage with so many things wrong with it it beggars the mind. (There aren't any. And yes, he meant x as in the English x. Oh, I know it looks like an X. But it goes: "ch" and is not an X, much like our friend я.)

The title itself makes me want to punch something. I actually said in the beginning of this book: "justbeast , the title better not be some stupid pun on тебя or I'm just going to kill myself." justbeast  assured me this could not possibly be the case. And he was right. It's much worse. You might think it has to do with alien physiology, but you'd be wrong.

Cut for Spoilers and to Spare YouCollapse )

Oh, what else? Konstantin, in 1986 Moscow, decides he's an alcoholic and stops drinking, is concerned about the effects of tobacco on his lungs. Awesomely, at one point, without any irony whatsoever, while being detained by the KGB, Konstantin loudly claims that he must be charged with a crime or released, since that's the law! Really? Would you like your Miranda rights read to you, too? How about your one phone call? The KGB and local police have to do precisely shit for you in Soviet Russia, and this isn't even a tough research bit--it's like rule one in the totalitarian handbook, and given how cynical and experienced our hard-boiled protag is supposed to be, I just can't even finish this sentence for how stupid this is.

And then we get into factual problems. Because honestly, the cultural notes aren't just wrong for Russia, they're wrong for the 80s. And sometimes offensive. One of the characters, Saltykov, has Asperger's Syndrome. In 1986. Asperger's was not diagnosed by that name in anyone until 1992. And of course Saltykov is just literally the most annoying person ever born, and exists purely to block the protagonist and cause problems with his hilarious syndrome and be comic relief, sort of, even though his symptoms are pretty much classic OCD and not Asperger's. And the American woman is, of course, fat. Not just fat, but constantly described in the most grotesque terms possible, that she has to collect her flesh and haul it into a car--she practically has no character other than to be fat and American. And a Scientologist. I'll get back to that in a minute. Eventually, of course, it dawns on Konstantin that skinny bodies aren't so awesome in post-war Russia and he falls in love with her for no reason and she with him, even though she's in her thirties and he's in his late sixties and horrifyingly scarred. Their main topic of conversation seem to remain, however, how fat she is. I've never used the word fatphobic before, but there it is. Literally, she can be stabbed with no damage because she's so incredibly fat--did you hear how fat she is? SO VERY FAT.

Oh, and she's a Scientologist. I know the Church was around then (though since Hubbard died in 1986, literally a month before the action of the book, and the Scientologists never mention it, but the Soviet authorities are all over that, I can't even say this rings right) but really, Scientology and Asperger's and alcoholism and the evils of tobacco are concerns of today, not of 1986. It just feels wrong. And there's no reason for them to be Scientologists, it doesn't matter to the plot, except in that they necessarily believe in aliens. No one has cell phones or email, but other than that it might as well be 2010. In America (or England, I know the author is British), since every single cultural reference the protagonist makes is a Western one. I swear I am more Russian than this guy.

And then there's Chernobyl, which you'll be happy to know is a cute joke having to do with the alien conspiracy and just a nice set piece, which really I'm not at all cool with, given the rest of the painfully inept cultural appropriation going on here. The much-vaunted satire in the novel's blurbs is just one-note lol Russia sux nonsense, and I think it's telling that the acknowlegments thank a plainly not-Russian friend for her childhood memories of having once visited Kiev and Moscow. Because that's what this reads like. The dim memories of someone who might have once seen a movie about Russia.

I agonized over cultural details while writing Deathless. I didn't even feel right making it a first person novel for that very reason--which YBT is. It shocks me as much as a nude author picture would, to see any cultural accuracy just flung to the wind, and this ugly pastiche, a Westerner in redface prancing around an amazing idea for a book that got totally lost in endless chase scenes, guns, and tell me the truth/you can't handle the truth! exchanges. The entire central 200 pages of the book are filled with that, such that aliens and conspiracies barely register.

I heard so many good things about this book. I went out of my way to get it from the UK. And really, I might as well have just added -ski to every word in this book and treated it like Communist Mad Libs for all that it had any point whatsoever, or any authenticity at all. Apparently cultural sensitivity just doesn't apply to those evil, evil Russians.

Yeah, I know, that's harsh. I mean, I could gripe about the cover design, too (not all books involving Russia have to be red, actually). But I have to call them like I see them, or else what's a blog for?

It's just like how in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, not only were the costumes historically inaccurate and the castles non-period, but they were using modern idiom and the French accents were al wrong! Not just for period French, but even modern French!

And let's not even get started on the inaccuracy of the spear points in Ringo Starr's Caveman.

But that was a comedy troupe not intending accuracy. Not a period novel.

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That sounds wretched.

As a classicist, I hate that Greek ΛLΡΗΛΒΣΤ shit, so I know exactly what you mean.

When I was a kid in school, my sister and I used to exchange notes auf Deutsch using the Greek letters phonetically where possible. When teachers intercepted them, there generally wasn't much they could do about it.

But yeah, that stuff is annoying. Poor abused lambda and sigma. Poor abused eta, theta, and rho. I feel your pain.

(Recently, I had a friend use Beta in a story title for the letter B, and she got pounced upon by folks who were convinced she was abusing the German esset in the same manner.)

Я "люблю тебя"…потому что я никогда не читал эту книгу.

One character actually refers to the "x"s in the Russian alphabet, in a passage with so many things wrong with it it beggars the mind. (There aren't any. And yes, he meant x as in the English x. Oh, I know it looks like an X. But it goes: "ch" and is not an X, much like our friend я.)

I decided not to read this book after seeing the cover in the store a while back and going on a rant about "fake" Cyrillic for American audiences--how Ч is not "y" and В is "v" not "b" and how Б is "b" but not В, but thank you for sparing me the horrors of the text proper, for I now see there was more of that in it.

"I love you in Russian is ya tebya lyublyu. So, um, I guess if you have THE WORST PRONUNCIATION IN THE ENTIRE WORLD and are an idiot, it kind of almost works."

If you say "Я люблю тебя" then it sounds kinda like "yellow-blue Tibia," but only in the exact same way that Donald Duck kinda sounds like he's speaking English when he talks.

Re: Я "люблю тебя"…потому что я никогда не читал эт

See I think a pun a. should never be a title and b. should not require stretching and a lot of leeway to even work in the first place.

Here via the Whateverette.
I blame Dan Brown, who has convinced the world that if you write an exciting enough plot, you don't need to get a single verifiable fact correct.

I was thinking of Dan Brown as well, but for the language problems. He has a French character use anagrams of English phrases to hide his message. The French character may be able to speak English but it seems unlikely that in his dying moments, he'll be sitting there trying to figure out anagrams in a language secondary to him and the person he is trying to communicate with.

(Or so I was told. I tried to read the first chapter of DaVinci Code and gave up, but other braver folks riffed on the problems.)

This makes me wish you got paid to read and review - I really enjoyed this, makes me feel like I'm not crazy for being so critical of things others seem to love *cough*avatar*cough*

I haven't read much of Adam Roberts' fiction, but I get the impression that he likes to engage in a kind of playful rulebreaking, deliberately doing things that many readers will consider wrong. See his remarks on what constitutes realistic characterization here: http://www.thevalve.org/go/valve/article/characterisation_swiftly/

(I have no idea whether this approach applies to any aspect of Yellow Blue Tibia.)

I just don't think that expands to claiming a language uses letters it doesn't, a syndrome before it was diagnosed, and and utterly failing to make a book feel like it was set in the country it claims to be. Honestly, I blame the editor more, because so much of this is basic fact-checking. If it was on purpose, I'm baffled, since it served no purpose in the novel but to anger me.

Oh my. Oh, my goodness. Two years of Russian way back in high school and I'm cringing here, and then I clicked through to see which Roberts you meant, and it all made much more sense. --The only Adam Roberts book I've ever tried to read myself I ended up throwing across the room several times, most notably when he badly (badly) whiffed Schrodinger's Cat in his introduction.

I've been re-reading this post, the comments, some entries on the author's own blog, and just shaking my head in dismay at the whole thing.

The book I'm currently working on is set in present-day Tokyo, and I can only *hope* I did enough homework to make it seem plausible. I don't expect to get every fracking detail right or include a surfeit of details that I never experienced personally (which is a big part of the reason this will probably be my last foray into such things, at least for now), but I'd like to think I got some basic things right.

More to the point, I'd like to think that if I was called on them, I'd be able to say "Yeah, I fucked that up," and not put myself in a position to make mistakes that gauche next time. I get the impression the author would be very irate if you called them "mistakes"; he'd be more inclined to label them as "aesthetic choices". He's welcome to do that, and we're also welcome to not read his book because of it. Which I think I'll be doing plenty of based on what I saw here.

Your blog is for whatever you want it to be, of course! But this sort of "rant" is one of the reasons I love it so. Because it's not just a rant... it's a review, a head's up to writers, a philosophy of writing, about half a semester's worth of language and culture lessons, and more. So please keep doing it! ^_^

I do believe all of the ideas you've presented in your post. They're very convincing and will definitely work. Still, the posts are very quick for newbies. May just you please lengthen them a little from subsequent time? Thank you for the post.
Beachbody

You know how sometimes you break a sentence up so that each word gets its own line and a period after, just to show the depth of your boggledness? This is the first time I've wanted to do that with an emoticon.

O.

_.

O.

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I must say that overall I am really impressed with this blog. It is easy to see that you are passionate about your writing.

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I was amused that the author's name on the cover managed to have both the я and an R. It all makes as much sense as Toys я Us.

Sigh. Epic fail with caviar on toast points anyone?

Dr. Phil

YBT

(Anonymous)
I wonder if it's significant that the initials of the title, YBT, also stands for "You've Been Trolled."

if you read it fast in russian, it also stands for "yobt'", which is shorthand of "yob tvoju mat'", i.e. "fuck your mother", a popular russian curse.

Hmmmm, this novel had been in my to-read pile. I may still get around to it, though I'll be sure to read it as a Terribly Clever British Satire Novel.

Mind you, my impression of Roberts as a literary figure dropped several notches after he issued his screed against mediocrity in the Hugo shortlist.

Isn't it interesting how, in the normal universe, it's the highbrow fiction that gets all pedantic about the details, and the lowbrow story-tellers (hey, who said 'Hollywood'?!) takes all the liberties? Maybe that's just a facile overgeneralisation.

In closing, has anyone here who's familiar with Russian culture read Jack Womack's Let's Put the Future Behind Us?

beatuful rant, i loled.

but, to be a little contrarian (and you know if wouldn't be me otherwise), here's some russian poetry:

Я люблю тебя, как море любит солнечный восход,
Как нарцисс, к волне склоненный,- блеск и холод сонных вод.
Я люблю тебя, как звезды любят месяц золотой,
Как поэт - свое созданье, вознесенное мечтой.
Я люблю тебя, как пламя - однодневки-мотыльки,
От любви изнемогая, изнывая от тоски.
Я люблю тебя, как любит звонкий ветер камыши,
Я люблю тебя всей волей, всеми струнами души.
Я люблю тебя, как любят неразгаданные сны:
Больше солнца, больше счастья, больше жизни и весны.

You know, I've been seeing this in the bookstores for months, and I was intrigued by the title and the premise, but still put the book back down. Man, am I now glad that I did. This was much the same reaction I had to Liz Williams' Snake Agent.

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