Well, this was different from the Wolf totem. This is a second book set in Mongolia that I read after the trip. And for all the romanticism and sentimentality the Wolf totem was soaked in, this one is way way all the way on the other end of the spectrum. Lasciate ogni speranza, kiddos.
First things first: I was and remained impressed by the fact that this was a debut novel written by a very young author (it came out when Hulova was 23). The format, the bold and creative similes and metaphors, the no-nonsense down-to-earthness, the kind of cynicism seeping out of the characters that you normally feel only in very old or very disappointed people... I was floored. Honestly. I might check out some other works by this author (after I have made sure they won't burn my soul like this one did).
So, the story is told by five female members of a family. The story is terrible. It does not get good for anyone involved at any point. Incest, rape, prostitution, alcoholism - you name it, this book has it. Now, I can take the ugly and the terrible and the cynicism, but there is not a sliver of hope for any of the characters ever. The book does keep you reading - it is written from five different POVs, and they all read a bit like a stream of consciousness. Very quickly I began to feel as if I were sitting across from the character, and she was telling me her story, sometimes rushing coldly through a series of events, sometimes lingering on the details for a while. I liked that. But as far as the plot is concerned, there are no good 'hooks', nothing to give you hope; about halfway through I realised it would not get better, it is just one shitty thing happening after the other, and once one character has had her fill, the story moves on to the next. I was telling Matilda yesterday, "I can't wait to finish this book, it's torture for both characters and myself". What I perhaps disliked the most is the fact that characters are not even likeable. Not only in the sense that they are not very good people, but they are also not quite fleshed out enough, so it was sometimes hard to empathise, as you kind of end up reading about disgusting things happening to half-baked people you don't care all that much about, feeling all around awkward and wanting to leave the planet Earth.
In a way, my going from the 'Wolf Totem' to 'All this belongs to me' mirrored our trip's trajectory from the Terelj park to Ulaanbaatar. In Terelj, we spent two days basking in the sun and silence, kept warm by our host family's kindness and openness. In Ulaanbaatar, two days in, a situation that struck me and will haunt me was one involving a little girl of maybe 5. We were out in a pub after our friend's wedding, and there was this little girl, selling chewing gums to tourists. She passed by the first time around midnight, and already then I was surprised why such a small kid was still up. Her head was shaved. Three hours later, she was still there, squeezing past drunken people, patiently waiting for someone to buy the gums, and not saying anything when people pinched her cheeks. Some of us did not want to give her money, so as not to perpetuate the cycle. Instead we went and bought some fries. When we offered it to her, she looked around and shook her head. Eventually we managed to persuade her to take at least one, but when she took it her hand was shaking. When she finally left, we saw she was intercepted by a woman who checked her pockets. She was definitely scared. Our friend explained to us that this was not all that unusual in UB; it's still a developing country. But honestly, Brussels or UB, scenes like that are brutally normal.
Since 'All this belongs to me' deals with prostitution, I looked up a bit what it was like in UB some 20 years ago, around the time when Hulova spent her year there. Apparently, child prostitution was an issue at the time (one journalist reported a heartbreaking story of a 7 year old prostitute with a 10 year old pimp). This book does not deal precisely with child prostitution (thank God, at least not that), but it does paint a very bleak picture of Ulaanbaatar, which made me think, if I witnessed that situation with the little girl in my three days in UB in 2018, what did Hulova see during a year in early 2000s?
All in all, this book is exceptional and decently written, but it drained me emotionally. It's a good book I would recommend to no one.