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Odesa Solstice
At dawn on the summer solstice of 2019, in the heart of Odesa, Tanya Platova and Henri Langeron wind up all-night outings with friends. Each gravitates to the Potemkin Stairs, where Tanya indulges her passion for photography and Langeron contemplates his filmmaking ambitions. What they witness next thrusts them into the vortex of international politics and ineluctably together---engulfed by the grotesque machinations of Russian state propaganda and the lethal designs of the FSB. Cascading threats against them reflect the war already in progress and the larger invasion still to come. Everything hinges on their clarity and resolve…
382 pages, Kindle Edition
Published May 1, 2024
3 people want to read
About the author
Eric Almeida
4 books3 followersEric Almeida was born in Ithaca, New York in 1962 and raised in Rhode Island. He attended Tabor Academy and majored in History at Brown University, where he also competed on the rowing team. Upon graduation in 1984 he worked as a Sports Writer at The Providence Journal for one year, then resumed his education at The Nitze School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS) of Johns Hopkins University, receiving an M.A. in International Affairs in 1987.
From graduate school he detoured into business, working as international sales manager for an American high-technology company for five years, primarily in Europe. He proceeded to co-found a software-development venture based in Belarus, France and the Netherlands, for which he also served as President from 1996-2001.
Soon thereafter he returned to writing, his core interest. He currently divides his time between Ukraine and the New England coastline.
From graduate school he detoured into business, working as international sales manager for an American high-technology company for five years, primarily in Europe. He proceeded to co-found a software-development venture based in Belarus, France and the Netherlands, for which he also served as President from 1996-2001.
Soon thereafter he returned to writing, his core interest. He currently divides his time between Ukraine and the New England coastline.
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Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews
July 29, 2024
With clean, direct prose and a tight, incremental staircase of tension, Eric Almeida’s Odesa Solstice presents a clear vision of Odesa, Ukraine and a few of its inhabitants in 2019, on the precipice of a coming war with Russia. What first appears to be thriller or romance gradually transmutes into a contemplation of Russian culture and history in the context of its modern authoritarian state, told through intricate personal relationships.
Odesa Solstice centers the involvement of creative people—a screenwriter, photographer, and novelist—caught in the grinding of an authoritarian censorship and surveillance machine. It asks: What is the role of artists in this world? The story begins with Tanya, one half of our narrator-protagonist duo, and her early morning photography habit. But what begins as Tanya’s story quickly shifts to orbit around the other narrative half, Henri Langeron, a French aristocrat, businessman, and screenwriter who sees the world as a collection of stories, contextualized by his personal background. This worldview is the fountain from which much of the ideological exploration in the novel flows. As a result, in the latter half of the novel, Tanya’s story in connection to the main conflict lapses significantly, leaving her underdeveloped even as the first narrator to whom the novel introduces us. Her second-act plot line, while interesting in the context of Russia’s state suppression, still manages to take a backseat. Instead, Langeron’s own spiritual and ideological struggles, as well as creative and business ventures, become the novel’s focal point.
In the first few chapters, Almeida quickly establishes the novel’s principal conflict, the abduction of a Russian man from a hotel in Odesa. Ultimately, however, the novel’s intrigue lies in the personal relationships between Henri, Tanya, her sister Liza, and a few other supporting characters, as they are shaped by this impetus. At first strangers, when their lives are twisted and misrepresented by the Russian state media apparatus, their true interpersonal connections change in reaction, ultimately bringing them closer. This interplay—between ordinary lives and distorsions of them in the media—is one of the most interesting pieces of the novel. Almeida gives the reader a rare glimpse into the perversion of narrative in Russian state media, demonstrating how false narratives can become so convincing.
One of the other strengths of this novel is its pacing, which quickly moves the reader forward, as in a traditional thriller. Under the watch of the Russian security service, every component of the world surrounding Henri and Tanya slowly morphs into the possibility of a threat. The ordinary, safe world shrinks smaller and smaller with each intrusion. However, in this growing tension, a few key plot developments are delivered through long-form explanations from characters, which slows the natural tension built through their interactions with the world. As a note, the story also bears slight connections to Almeida’s previous novel, though not enough to prevent new readers from diving in.
This novel comfortably exists in the world of multilinguality, offering nuggets of interest about the usage of language for formality, intimacy, and more. Even more so, the motions and interactions of characters’ bodies seem to engender an entire language of their own, as Almeida pays them minute detail. At times, the narrative focus on bodies, particularly the attractiveness of female protagonists, approaches a level of discomfort, though it is accepted under the guise of Langeron’s and his cohort’s aristocratic taste. Even though we’ve been introduced to Tanya’s intelligence, creativity, and composure already, her positioning as a cipher of attraction and pinnacle of beauty against an ugly political backdrop can feel reductive of her character.
The resolution of the novel’s principal conflict comes quickly and without warning, but the novels’ final open ending actually loops back around to satisfaction. The ending lingers not on some clean resolution of the personal relationships, but rather on the nonsense and danger of the Russian state, tying a bow on the thread of ideological and cultural conflict throughout the novel. For the literarily-inclined and the historically-invested, Odesa Solstice is an engaging exploration of ideas, yet it still leaves a compelling story and cast of characters for a general audience. It is a different kind of historical thriller, and readers seeking to understand Ukraine and the war with Russia will find many gems to mine within its pages.
Odesa Solstice centers the involvement of creative people—a screenwriter, photographer, and novelist—caught in the grinding of an authoritarian censorship and surveillance machine. It asks: What is the role of artists in this world? The story begins with Tanya, one half of our narrator-protagonist duo, and her early morning photography habit. But what begins as Tanya’s story quickly shifts to orbit around the other narrative half, Henri Langeron, a French aristocrat, businessman, and screenwriter who sees the world as a collection of stories, contextualized by his personal background. This worldview is the fountain from which much of the ideological exploration in the novel flows. As a result, in the latter half of the novel, Tanya’s story in connection to the main conflict lapses significantly, leaving her underdeveloped even as the first narrator to whom the novel introduces us. Her second-act plot line, while interesting in the context of Russia’s state suppression, still manages to take a backseat. Instead, Langeron’s own spiritual and ideological struggles, as well as creative and business ventures, become the novel’s focal point.
In the first few chapters, Almeida quickly establishes the novel’s principal conflict, the abduction of a Russian man from a hotel in Odesa. Ultimately, however, the novel’s intrigue lies in the personal relationships between Henri, Tanya, her sister Liza, and a few other supporting characters, as they are shaped by this impetus. At first strangers, when their lives are twisted and misrepresented by the Russian state media apparatus, their true interpersonal connections change in reaction, ultimately bringing them closer. This interplay—between ordinary lives and distorsions of them in the media—is one of the most interesting pieces of the novel. Almeida gives the reader a rare glimpse into the perversion of narrative in Russian state media, demonstrating how false narratives can become so convincing.
One of the other strengths of this novel is its pacing, which quickly moves the reader forward, as in a traditional thriller. Under the watch of the Russian security service, every component of the world surrounding Henri and Tanya slowly morphs into the possibility of a threat. The ordinary, safe world shrinks smaller and smaller with each intrusion. However, in this growing tension, a few key plot developments are delivered through long-form explanations from characters, which slows the natural tension built through their interactions with the world. As a note, the story also bears slight connections to Almeida’s previous novel, though not enough to prevent new readers from diving in.
This novel comfortably exists in the world of multilinguality, offering nuggets of interest about the usage of language for formality, intimacy, and more. Even more so, the motions and interactions of characters’ bodies seem to engender an entire language of their own, as Almeida pays them minute detail. At times, the narrative focus on bodies, particularly the attractiveness of female protagonists, approaches a level of discomfort, though it is accepted under the guise of Langeron’s and his cohort’s aristocratic taste. Even though we’ve been introduced to Tanya’s intelligence, creativity, and composure already, her positioning as a cipher of attraction and pinnacle of beauty against an ugly political backdrop can feel reductive of her character.
The resolution of the novel’s principal conflict comes quickly and without warning, but the novels’ final open ending actually loops back around to satisfaction. The ending lingers not on some clean resolution of the personal relationships, but rather on the nonsense and danger of the Russian state, tying a bow on the thread of ideological and cultural conflict throughout the novel. For the literarily-inclined and the historically-invested, Odesa Solstice is an engaging exploration of ideas, yet it still leaves a compelling story and cast of characters for a general audience. It is a different kind of historical thriller, and readers seeking to understand Ukraine and the war with Russia will find many gems to mine within its pages.
February 19, 2025
Odesa Solstice follows a set of two protagonists whose lives change when they are the principal witnesses to a high profile crime. Over the next few weeks, the two are brought closer together as danger bears down their doors, swept up in a whirlwind of Russian state propaganda. Told from alternating perspectives, the political thriller examines the fraught political landscape between Russia and Ukraine through its protagonists: Tanya, a beautiful Ukrainian woman, and Henri, a French aristocrat with ties to the old Russian empire. The two differ on their perspectives towards Russia, yet as they unwittingly become more intertwined in the world of international politics, they are forced to consider how their state impacts their own relationships to physical intimacy and privacy. The novel dips into the realm of erotica, not shying away from the physicality of its characters and the important role intimacy plays in the fight against state control. Yet at times, the physicality works to its detriment. The women of this novel are written with their beauty as their defining characteristics, leading to several uncomfortable lines that not only relegate its women to one-dimensionality, but break the momentum of the story. When not focused on its women, however, the novel is fast-paced and gripping, weaving a complex narrative of surveillance. I struggled to find a spot in which to put this book down as I felt that there was always a new thread I had to unravel before I could take a break. I would have loved to see 50 or so more pages in this novel. It would have allowed the characters more room to breathe – Tanya specifically could have been more fleshed out, especially when her lacking interiority is compared to Henri’s comprehensive internal struggles. All that being said, I was genuinely entertained by this book. It does a stellar job of highlighting the arrogance and innate stubbornness behind political machinations, something I really enjoyed. The final scene of the book is masterclass! It perfectly encapsulates the political designs of Russia in Ukraine. If you have any interest at all in foreign politics, I would recommend this book on the final scene alone.
February 7, 2025
Set in Ukraine a few short years before the Russian invasion, this was a surreal read. What struck me the most was the unwavering coolness and self-possession displayed by a cast of mostly Ukrainian characters in the face of surveillance and harassment by the Russian secret service. If a big black vehicle followed me to work or breakfast just ONCE, I would not be okay, let me tell you. Tanya and Henri face that and more, and they do so with their heads held high. No spoilers, though...
Almeida’s writing is deliberate and exacting. The level of detail was impressive. The narration felt detached and distant at times, but not in a way I usually minded, and again, it felt intentional. The setting was such an integral part of the story, and the level of care applied to that and to the choreography of the characters within it made the whole thing feel quite cinematic. Not super fast-paced on average, but rather a continuous building and circling around the tension. It was both alarming and fascinating to follow along as the drama developed.
The novel turned out to be surprisingly erotic - a dynamic inserted in an unselfconscious/unemotional yet somehow still under-the-surface way. It unfolds cinematically as the rest of the plot, and I wasn’t always sure what to make of it. A few sentences and interactions made my stomach churn. I’m not really here to explain or interpret it, but at the very least, it certainly kept pace with (and even overtook) the principal drama related to the FSB. Politics and privacy both are clearly charged topics for the characters in Odesa Solstice and I think the sexual undercurrents in the novel accented that as the lines often blurred between spoken & implied, polite & forbidden, mundane & dangerous, etc.
I was intrigued by the French aristocracy element woven into the Henri Langeron character, whose attitudes toward Russia are complicated and in flux throughout the novel as he reconciles his family history with modern-day politics in Odesa. This piece of his character, as well as glimpses of other characters' opinions, reminded me how little I truly understand about the cultural and historical context of the current conflict. Henri’s reflections on past and present Odesa brought up interesting themes of identity and legacy amid shifting political and national landscapes.
This book is a thriller, a social commentary, a picture of Ukraine before the war, a celebration of literature’s power.
The ending was frustrating but also made sense...
And I now want to read Undefeatable: Odesa In Love And War by Julian Evans next! Thanks to the author of Odesa Solstice for sparking that interest, and for writing a daring novel at an important moment.
And a couple quotes that will stay with me: “That is that once they start something, as flawed and stupid as it may be, they keep on doubling down on it. If they fail, they nonetheless persist. They simply do not stop.” 😬
"Why a novel about Ukraine and not Russia itself? Ivan Bunin called Ukraine the 'cradle of the Slavic soul.'"
Almeida’s writing is deliberate and exacting. The level of detail was impressive. The narration felt detached and distant at times, but not in a way I usually minded, and again, it felt intentional. The setting was such an integral part of the story, and the level of care applied to that and to the choreography of the characters within it made the whole thing feel quite cinematic. Not super fast-paced on average, but rather a continuous building and circling around the tension. It was both alarming and fascinating to follow along as the drama developed.
The novel turned out to be surprisingly erotic - a dynamic inserted in an unselfconscious/unemotional yet somehow still under-the-surface way. It unfolds cinematically as the rest of the plot, and I wasn’t always sure what to make of it. A few sentences and interactions made my stomach churn. I’m not really here to explain or interpret it, but at the very least, it certainly kept pace with (and even overtook) the principal drama related to the FSB. Politics and privacy both are clearly charged topics for the characters in Odesa Solstice and I think the sexual undercurrents in the novel accented that as the lines often blurred between spoken & implied, polite & forbidden, mundane & dangerous, etc.
I was intrigued by the French aristocracy element woven into the Henri Langeron character, whose attitudes toward Russia are complicated and in flux throughout the novel as he reconciles his family history with modern-day politics in Odesa. This piece of his character, as well as glimpses of other characters' opinions, reminded me how little I truly understand about the cultural and historical context of the current conflict. Henri’s reflections on past and present Odesa brought up interesting themes of identity and legacy amid shifting political and national landscapes.
This book is a thriller, a social commentary, a picture of Ukraine before the war, a celebration of literature’s power.
The ending was frustrating but also made sense...
And I now want to read Undefeatable: Odesa In Love And War by Julian Evans next! Thanks to the author of Odesa Solstice for sparking that interest, and for writing a daring novel at an important moment.
And a couple quotes that will stay with me: “That is that once they start something, as flawed and stupid as it may be, they keep on doubling down on it. If they fail, they nonetheless persist. They simply do not stop.” 😬
"Why a novel about Ukraine and not Russia itself? Ivan Bunin called Ukraine the 'cradle of the Slavic soul.'"
August 12, 2024
Author Eric Almeida’s Odesa Solstice is a fast-paced political thriller that immerses readers into the heart of Russian-Ukrainian tensions through the eyes of two protagonists, Tanya Platova and Henri Langeron. When a former FSB member is abducted, Tanya and Henri find themselves suddenly entangled in a web of international politics and propaganda. It’s a perfect read for someone looking for a quick, suspenseful read filled with mystery. While strongly centered on these politics, the novel follows the characters through their lives and place in Ukrainian society–giving further insight into the social life of the country. Almeida delves into the human condition through both personal and professional relationships. The dual narration provides a well-rounded perspective, allowing readers to fully immerse themselves in the characters’ thoughts and motivations.
Something I really appreciated about this story was the use and respect towards the power of art - specifically literature but also cinema, in a way. The root of the book is essentially that literature - fiction or non - can have a lot of power, especially in political and social commentary. We see something similar in cinema through Langeron and the progression of his political views always going back to his script.
I approached this book with only a surface-level understanding of Russian and Ukrainian politics, but the author does a good job at introducing Russia’s role in Ukraine right from the start. The event that introduces the characters to one another is well-crafted and sets the tone for the story, with each character offering unique insights into the political climate. Henri Langeron in particular offers a more nuanced perspective, with his initial sympathy and support for Russian slowly fading as his eyes are opened to the reality of the politics of Russia under Putin. A character such as Langeron adds depth to the narrative.
However, I did have some trouble with how the female characters were written. While Tanya and Liza, and even Nadia, had good traits to their character, I did feel they were indirectly sexualized more than was necessary (especially in regards to the portrayal of Nadia and Tanya’s relationship). Nonetheless Odesa Solstice Offers both an engaging story and thought-provoking insights into the political environment of Russia and Ukraine, while also giving the reader a peek into the culture of the country. It is a great book to pick up if you are looking for a quick read or to learn more about the politics of the region, especially the role Russia plays.
My favorite quote from the book was: “Literature is somewhat unique in that respect. Authors can become more influential in death than in life” (359).
Something I really appreciated about this story was the use and respect towards the power of art - specifically literature but also cinema, in a way. The root of the book is essentially that literature - fiction or non - can have a lot of power, especially in political and social commentary. We see something similar in cinema through Langeron and the progression of his political views always going back to his script.
I approached this book with only a surface-level understanding of Russian and Ukrainian politics, but the author does a good job at introducing Russia’s role in Ukraine right from the start. The event that introduces the characters to one another is well-crafted and sets the tone for the story, with each character offering unique insights into the political climate. Henri Langeron in particular offers a more nuanced perspective, with his initial sympathy and support for Russian slowly fading as his eyes are opened to the reality of the politics of Russia under Putin. A character such as Langeron adds depth to the narrative.
However, I did have some trouble with how the female characters were written. While Tanya and Liza, and even Nadia, had good traits to their character, I did feel they were indirectly sexualized more than was necessary (especially in regards to the portrayal of Nadia and Tanya’s relationship). Nonetheless Odesa Solstice Offers both an engaging story and thought-provoking insights into the political environment of Russia and Ukraine, while also giving the reader a peek into the culture of the country. It is a great book to pick up if you are looking for a quick read or to learn more about the politics of the region, especially the role Russia plays.
My favorite quote from the book was: “Literature is somewhat unique in that respect. Authors can become more influential in death than in life” (359).
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 9, 2025
Eric Almeida’s Odesa Solstice isn’t just a thriller—it’s an experience. From the first page, you’re pulled into Ukraine at a turning point in its history, following the intertwined lives of Tanya Platova and Henri Langeron. What starts as a chance meeting quickly spirals into a world of espionage, shifting alliances, and personal reckoning.
What makes this book stand out is how deeply it invests in its characters. Tanya, a sharp and determined Ukrainian programmer, and Henri, a French aristocrat with roots in the old Russian empire, have completely different perspectives, yet their journeys feel equally real and urgent. As the FSB tightens its grip and political tensions rise, they’re forced to question everything—Tanya about her place in a society undergoing massive change and Henri about his long-held views on Russia and Ukraine. Their transformations feel honest, gradual, and human.
Almeida’s writing brings Odesa to life in a way that’s almost cinematic. You can feel the city’s energy, its beauty, and the underlying sense of unease. The novel doesn’t just touch on political conflicts—it fully pulls you in them, exploring media manipulation, propaganda, and the weight of history. Yet, despite the depth of these themes, the story never loses sight of its characters. They’re messy, flawed, and real, making even the most complex political discussions feel personal.
One of my favorite aspects of the book is how it explores art as a force for change. Through literature and film, Almeida highlights the power of storytelling in shaping public perception and challenging oppressive narratives. It’s a reminder that culture isn’t just entertainment—it’s influence.
Ultimately, Odesa Solstice is more than just a thriller—it’s a story about identity, resilience, and the choices we make when faced with political and personal awakenings. It’s gripping, thought-provoking, and stays with you long after the last page. If you’re looking for a novel that combines history, intrigue, and what makes us human, this one is absolutely worth your time.
Simply put. I can’t recall ever reading a story that feels so full of knowledge, understanding, and authenticity. Odesa Solstice, thank you for being that rare book that doesn’t just tell a story—it changes you.
What makes this book stand out is how deeply it invests in its characters. Tanya, a sharp and determined Ukrainian programmer, and Henri, a French aristocrat with roots in the old Russian empire, have completely different perspectives, yet their journeys feel equally real and urgent. As the FSB tightens its grip and political tensions rise, they’re forced to question everything—Tanya about her place in a society undergoing massive change and Henri about his long-held views on Russia and Ukraine. Their transformations feel honest, gradual, and human.
Almeida’s writing brings Odesa to life in a way that’s almost cinematic. You can feel the city’s energy, its beauty, and the underlying sense of unease. The novel doesn’t just touch on political conflicts—it fully pulls you in them, exploring media manipulation, propaganda, and the weight of history. Yet, despite the depth of these themes, the story never loses sight of its characters. They’re messy, flawed, and real, making even the most complex political discussions feel personal.
One of my favorite aspects of the book is how it explores art as a force for change. Through literature and film, Almeida highlights the power of storytelling in shaping public perception and challenging oppressive narratives. It’s a reminder that culture isn’t just entertainment—it’s influence.
Ultimately, Odesa Solstice is more than just a thriller—it’s a story about identity, resilience, and the choices we make when faced with political and personal awakenings. It’s gripping, thought-provoking, and stays with you long after the last page. If you’re looking for a novel that combines history, intrigue, and what makes us human, this one is absolutely worth your time.
Simply put. I can’t recall ever reading a story that feels so full of knowledge, understanding, and authenticity. Odesa Solstice, thank you for being that rare book that doesn’t just tell a story—it changes you.
June 17, 2025
Atmosphere of place and time: Odessa here is not a background, but a living organism - the city streets, the Potemkin Stairs, the sound of early morning - everything creates a vivid ambiguous picture before the storm.
- Political context: the kidnapping scene is only the beginning: the conflict develops, involving the characters in the propaganda and FSBS mechanisms of power. The author clearly shows how political repression can permeate everyday life.
- The deep characters: Tania and Henri are archetypes of young creators: fragile, determined, striving to understand and capture the truth. Their inner monologues and anxieties take up as much space as the action.
Odesa Solstice is not just a thriller, but political prose with an emphasis on psychology, atmosphere, and a sense of impending conflict. If you appreciate:
- Deep characters with an inner world,
- Atmospheric, almost visual descriptions of places,
- Politics intertwined with personal destinies,
...then this is the book for you. It will suit those who prefer reflection and social context over pure action suspense. I recommend it as a great way to realize the calm before the storm and to get a feel for Ukraine on the eve of its battle.
- Political context: the kidnapping scene is only the beginning: the conflict develops, involving the characters in the propaganda and FSBS mechanisms of power. The author clearly shows how political repression can permeate everyday life.
- The deep characters: Tania and Henri are archetypes of young creators: fragile, determined, striving to understand and capture the truth. Their inner monologues and anxieties take up as much space as the action.
Odesa Solstice is not just a thriller, but political prose with an emphasis on psychology, atmosphere, and a sense of impending conflict. If you appreciate:
- Deep characters with an inner world,
- Atmospheric, almost visual descriptions of places,
- Politics intertwined with personal destinies,
...then this is the book for you. It will suit those who prefer reflection and social context over pure action suspense. I recommend it as a great way to realize the calm before the storm and to get a feel for Ukraine on the eve of its battle.
May 1, 2024
Fast-paced and evocative, with insights into the FSB machinations in Ukraine that preceded the February 2022 invasion.
August 18, 2024
In combining classical thriller elements with streams of complex political analysis, Odessa Solstice proves to not only be captivating, but also intellectually challenging. Almeida forces the reader to contemplate human nature in the context of European politics. Following the unlikely crossed paths of Tanya Platova and Henri Langeron, the reader is taken through a detailed and atmospheric journey of espionage and romance. All the while, Almeida manages to keep the thriller narrative alive.
Through Tanya and Langeron, Almeida delivers two unique perspectives on the political issues plaguing Eastern Europe and Ukraine. Tanya is a native Ukrainian programmer, whose background generally seems to be one of little interest in politics. Alternatively, Langeron is a French aristocrat, descended from a line of powerful and wealthy figures with ties to the old Russian empire. The characters are brought together by their collective witnessing of a man that turns out to be a former FSB agent. This makes them incredibly valuable assets in the investigation into this abduction.
As FSB medling targeted at the two characters ramps up, they are both forced to re-evaluate a variety of social, cultural, and political positions. For Tanya, we see her navigate a loveless marriage and lesbian affair with one of her closest friends. As the book notes, while attitudes towards queer people in Eastern Europe might’ve improved, much like the rest of the world, they still face great hostility. The increased surveillance forces Tanya to move her relationship even deeper into the margins of society, as public exposure of her affair could have dangerous ramifications. On the other hand, Langeron, whose Aristocratic background leaves him with a pro-Russian predisposition, undergoes a massive ideological transformation. After witnessing the indiscriminate ruthlessness with which the FSB operates, Langeron soon begins to question the merits of the modern Russian state. In Putin, Langeron initially saw a restorer of tradition and empire. However, as the modern empire sets its targets on Langeron, he comes to recognize the absurdness of the entire Russian security apparatus.
My brief summary of these two characters only scratches the surface. The book contains several other multidimensional characters, each contributing to the novel’s atmosphere in their own way. My main critique of the novel doesn’t have to do with any of the characters. Rather, I found that Almeida’s expertise of the region’s politics was both his greatest strength and weakness. At times, it felt as though too much background and detail was communicated, often at the expense of developing strong dialogue. Another effect of this was slowing the story down at times. The distribution of political/historical background and plot was uneven at times, with too much unnecessary emphasis on certain institutions or figures. All in all, however, this does not majorly detract from the novel. I found it to be an incredibly pleasant read.
Through Tanya and Langeron, Almeida delivers two unique perspectives on the political issues plaguing Eastern Europe and Ukraine. Tanya is a native Ukrainian programmer, whose background generally seems to be one of little interest in politics. Alternatively, Langeron is a French aristocrat, descended from a line of powerful and wealthy figures with ties to the old Russian empire. The characters are brought together by their collective witnessing of a man that turns out to be a former FSB agent. This makes them incredibly valuable assets in the investigation into this abduction.
As FSB medling targeted at the two characters ramps up, they are both forced to re-evaluate a variety of social, cultural, and political positions. For Tanya, we see her navigate a loveless marriage and lesbian affair with one of her closest friends. As the book notes, while attitudes towards queer people in Eastern Europe might’ve improved, much like the rest of the world, they still face great hostility. The increased surveillance forces Tanya to move her relationship even deeper into the margins of society, as public exposure of her affair could have dangerous ramifications. On the other hand, Langeron, whose Aristocratic background leaves him with a pro-Russian predisposition, undergoes a massive ideological transformation. After witnessing the indiscriminate ruthlessness with which the FSB operates, Langeron soon begins to question the merits of the modern Russian state. In Putin, Langeron initially saw a restorer of tradition and empire. However, as the modern empire sets its targets on Langeron, he comes to recognize the absurdness of the entire Russian security apparatus.
My brief summary of these two characters only scratches the surface. The book contains several other multidimensional characters, each contributing to the novel’s atmosphere in their own way. My main critique of the novel doesn’t have to do with any of the characters. Rather, I found that Almeida’s expertise of the region’s politics was both his greatest strength and weakness. At times, it felt as though too much background and detail was communicated, often at the expense of developing strong dialogue. Another effect of this was slowing the story down at times. The distribution of political/historical background and plot was uneven at times, with too much unnecessary emphasis on certain institutions or figures. All in all, however, this does not majorly detract from the novel. I found it to be an incredibly pleasant read.
August 17, 2024
(Mild Spoilers)
The thriller/suspense designation of Eric Almeida’s Odesa Solstice is actually a bit misleading. It doesn’t flow like a traditional thriller- very few violent or overtly aggressive acts actually occur (the first murder attempt isn’t until two thirds of the way through). The pacing, rather than a driving force, is more leisurely and character-focused, often detouring into long political and philosophical discussions. On this level, it works- just don’t expect Jason Bourne. To me, it actually had a lot more in common with something like Cunningham’s The Hours or Isherwood’s Berlin Stories- a slow exploration of the atmosphere in a very particular time and place, in this case, 2019 Ukraine. The calm before the storm.
The novel opens with Henri Langeron, a French aristocrat and aspiring filmmaker, and Tanya Platova, an Odesa yuppie in a failing marriage, witnessing a kidnapping at the foot of the Potemkin Stairs. Quickly, it is apparent the Russian FSB was involved, and Tanya and Langeron are soon embroiled in the Odesa Police’s investigation of the matter, even as Russia sends surveillance and a media smear campaign their way.
First- the detail in the novel is incredible. Almeida has clearly done his research, and his Odesa feels like a fully-colored, lived-in place. Particularly interesting, especially to a Western audience, is how nonchalantly Langeron and Tanya approach the situation. While Americans tend to imagine Putin’s 2022 invasion as a sudden, singularly defined event, Almeida’s characters show that, to many Ukrainians, Russian interference is the norm. The FSB in the novel are viewed as “clowns,” incompetent, obvious, more an annoyance than anything. Tanya and Langeron bring two different, but eerily similar perspectives to the table- Langeron as the pro-Russia rich boy who over time is forced to acknowledge the truth, and Tanya, as a work-driven socialite so used to the FSB’s presence that she doesn’t recognize the real danger involved until she herself is affected. Personally, I would have liked these two arcs to be handled much more subtly- probably the novel’s biggest flaw is the stilted speechifying it falls into at the end, in which characters explain at length the exact shifts their perspectives have undergone. But you do still get the gist, and the first half of the novel does a much better job at conveying characters’ mindsets less explicitly.
In general Almeida does tend to explain too much, with prose that feels jagged and robotic at times. For instance, whenever a dog goes to the bathroom, Almeida describes it, weirdly formally, as “his ministrations”. There’s also no real variance of pacing to provide suspense, but again, as a slower, more atmospheric piece, Odesa Solstice often works well. Particularly clever is the metatextual reveal that the kidnapped man is a former FSB-agent, who, after being disillusioned with Russia, began writing pro-Ukraine novels, the reason for his abduction. The choice of the iconic Potemkin stairs as the setting for yet another brutal Russian assault on dissenting voices is also a great one. I personally would have loved to see more of the abducted writer’s story- while Tanya is reasonably likeable, Langeron can quickly become an irritating narrator, prone to long monologues about the former glory of the Russian empire, before the terrible, “uneducated” Communists ruined everything (um… there were legitimate reasons people wanted to overthrow the Tsars?). Perhaps this is intentional, and meant to highlight the hypocrisy of conservative aristocrats who only grudgingly go against Putin. For me, that’s the one thing in the novel that could probably have been more explicit.
But as is, Odesa Solstice is still well worth a read, especially for Americans. It breaks a lot of your previous conceptions on the real nature of the current invasion- and the similarities between the Odesa yuppies, aware of but not really afraid of the dictator next door, and what’s going on currently with many young people in the US definitely were jarring to me. Just be aware that the book may be slower than you’re expecting- though the detail and nuance is definitely much more than I, for one, imagined.
The thriller/suspense designation of Eric Almeida’s Odesa Solstice is actually a bit misleading. It doesn’t flow like a traditional thriller- very few violent or overtly aggressive acts actually occur (the first murder attempt isn’t until two thirds of the way through). The pacing, rather than a driving force, is more leisurely and character-focused, often detouring into long political and philosophical discussions. On this level, it works- just don’t expect Jason Bourne. To me, it actually had a lot more in common with something like Cunningham’s The Hours or Isherwood’s Berlin Stories- a slow exploration of the atmosphere in a very particular time and place, in this case, 2019 Ukraine. The calm before the storm.
The novel opens with Henri Langeron, a French aristocrat and aspiring filmmaker, and Tanya Platova, an Odesa yuppie in a failing marriage, witnessing a kidnapping at the foot of the Potemkin Stairs. Quickly, it is apparent the Russian FSB was involved, and Tanya and Langeron are soon embroiled in the Odesa Police’s investigation of the matter, even as Russia sends surveillance and a media smear campaign their way.
First- the detail in the novel is incredible. Almeida has clearly done his research, and his Odesa feels like a fully-colored, lived-in place. Particularly interesting, especially to a Western audience, is how nonchalantly Langeron and Tanya approach the situation. While Americans tend to imagine Putin’s 2022 invasion as a sudden, singularly defined event, Almeida’s characters show that, to many Ukrainians, Russian interference is the norm. The FSB in the novel are viewed as “clowns,” incompetent, obvious, more an annoyance than anything. Tanya and Langeron bring two different, but eerily similar perspectives to the table- Langeron as the pro-Russia rich boy who over time is forced to acknowledge the truth, and Tanya, as a work-driven socialite so used to the FSB’s presence that she doesn’t recognize the real danger involved until she herself is affected. Personally, I would have liked these two arcs to be handled much more subtly- probably the novel’s biggest flaw is the stilted speechifying it falls into at the end, in which characters explain at length the exact shifts their perspectives have undergone. But you do still get the gist, and the first half of the novel does a much better job at conveying characters’ mindsets less explicitly.
In general Almeida does tend to explain too much, with prose that feels jagged and robotic at times. For instance, whenever a dog goes to the bathroom, Almeida describes it, weirdly formally, as “his ministrations”. There’s also no real variance of pacing to provide suspense, but again, as a slower, more atmospheric piece, Odesa Solstice often works well. Particularly clever is the metatextual reveal that the kidnapped man is a former FSB-agent, who, after being disillusioned with Russia, began writing pro-Ukraine novels, the reason for his abduction. The choice of the iconic Potemkin stairs as the setting for yet another brutal Russian assault on dissenting voices is also a great one. I personally would have loved to see more of the abducted writer’s story- while Tanya is reasonably likeable, Langeron can quickly become an irritating narrator, prone to long monologues about the former glory of the Russian empire, before the terrible, “uneducated” Communists ruined everything (um… there were legitimate reasons people wanted to overthrow the Tsars?). Perhaps this is intentional, and meant to highlight the hypocrisy of conservative aristocrats who only grudgingly go against Putin. For me, that’s the one thing in the novel that could probably have been more explicit.
But as is, Odesa Solstice is still well worth a read, especially for Americans. It breaks a lot of your previous conceptions on the real nature of the current invasion- and the similarities between the Odesa yuppies, aware of but not really afraid of the dictator next door, and what’s going on currently with many young people in the US definitely were jarring to me. Just be aware that the book may be slower than you’re expecting- though the detail and nuance is definitely much more than I, for one, imagined.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 21, 2024
*mild spoilers ahead *
I come into this reading with some layer of background and personal interest into the Russian - Ukrainian dynamic. Particularly I have long had a fascination with the way that political propaganda works in a state where the media is heavily controlled. I have seen news reports in real life that showcase the strict asteriking and silencing of many individuals and the impacts of their lives. It is truly a scary world we live in - I believe more people should stay aware of the political silencing going on even though I am aware of the emotional baggage and, to be completely frank, the scariness of the truths. That’s why this book, Odesa Solstice, is a good place to start for those who are looking to start delving deeper into the intricacies of the Russian media tactics.
The author, Eric Almeida, does a particularly good job making his work very readable for all his readers. I finished the entire book within two hours, taking in all of the scenes and character building that is done. It is a pleasant read, no doubt about it. The characters are created with enough faults and pleasantries to make them approachable - seem real. I think this is often hard to do in political or historical based fiction but this reading does it fantastically. I did question the overemphasis Tanya has on her outer beauty but it does not disturb the reading to a significant degree. The love triangle between Nadia, Tanya, and Langeron (sometimes it seemed like the romantic overlaps had many more sides) was a fun addition to the heavy nature of the book.
To tackle the politics of the book, I noticed that the changing perspectives between a woman who had no care for politics outside of convenience and a man who has been intertwined into the world of international networks serves the reader well. The juxtaposition as the book initially starts off with seemingly mundane settings of life to a deep interweaving of political blackmail is thrilling. The constant presence of the Russian FSB starts off with a jarring news cycle and at a certain point dissolves into the background. I think this is done purposely and purposefully well on part of Almeida as it shows how spying and state pressure works with the Russian state. I caught myself multiple times being rattled by mentions of the men in black BMWs trailing the sisters and their outings (especially at places like the beach and the cafe). Additionally the book portrays the hysteria of the pre-planned media cycle very well. Almeida gives us the insight into how political news often side steps the main issue for the more provocative details. As the readers get to see how the characters react to their images shown in Russian media, we also get a sense of rooted dissatisfaction and distaste. This book, although fictional, is a representation of the realities of Ukraine and Russia. Afterall the Russian rhetoric of western intervention and the struggles and successes of Ukrainian democracy are pulled from recent political conversations.
What I wish for this book though is more detail on the unnerving natures of how daily life changes for the characters. Tanya is no doubt meant to be a strong character but the lack of vulnerability reinforces that this book is indeed a fiction. Additionally, what I would love is to get a full book on Mikhailov. His story is the basis for Odesa Solstice and yet other than very brief mentions of him, I never got an entire deep dive. The last few chapters do reveal some depth into his character and I guess that is what leaves me with a desire to know more about him. He would make a fantastic basis for an entire novel.
The last line of this book is the most heartbreaking and what I believe the entire point of this book is. It adds the last emotional blow to the reader and to state that the world has become. I suggest the readers move through this book to reach this final point and to come out with a desire to know more about our world and how we perceive it.
I come into this reading with some layer of background and personal interest into the Russian - Ukrainian dynamic. Particularly I have long had a fascination with the way that political propaganda works in a state where the media is heavily controlled. I have seen news reports in real life that showcase the strict asteriking and silencing of many individuals and the impacts of their lives. It is truly a scary world we live in - I believe more people should stay aware of the political silencing going on even though I am aware of the emotional baggage and, to be completely frank, the scariness of the truths. That’s why this book, Odesa Solstice, is a good place to start for those who are looking to start delving deeper into the intricacies of the Russian media tactics.
The author, Eric Almeida, does a particularly good job making his work very readable for all his readers. I finished the entire book within two hours, taking in all of the scenes and character building that is done. It is a pleasant read, no doubt about it. The characters are created with enough faults and pleasantries to make them approachable - seem real. I think this is often hard to do in political or historical based fiction but this reading does it fantastically. I did question the overemphasis Tanya has on her outer beauty but it does not disturb the reading to a significant degree. The love triangle between Nadia, Tanya, and Langeron (sometimes it seemed like the romantic overlaps had many more sides) was a fun addition to the heavy nature of the book.
To tackle the politics of the book, I noticed that the changing perspectives between a woman who had no care for politics outside of convenience and a man who has been intertwined into the world of international networks serves the reader well. The juxtaposition as the book initially starts off with seemingly mundane settings of life to a deep interweaving of political blackmail is thrilling. The constant presence of the Russian FSB starts off with a jarring news cycle and at a certain point dissolves into the background. I think this is done purposely and purposefully well on part of Almeida as it shows how spying and state pressure works with the Russian state. I caught myself multiple times being rattled by mentions of the men in black BMWs trailing the sisters and their outings (especially at places like the beach and the cafe). Additionally the book portrays the hysteria of the pre-planned media cycle very well. Almeida gives us the insight into how political news often side steps the main issue for the more provocative details. As the readers get to see how the characters react to their images shown in Russian media, we also get a sense of rooted dissatisfaction and distaste. This book, although fictional, is a representation of the realities of Ukraine and Russia. Afterall the Russian rhetoric of western intervention and the struggles and successes of Ukrainian democracy are pulled from recent political conversations.
What I wish for this book though is more detail on the unnerving natures of how daily life changes for the characters. Tanya is no doubt meant to be a strong character but the lack of vulnerability reinforces that this book is indeed a fiction. Additionally, what I would love is to get a full book on Mikhailov. His story is the basis for Odesa Solstice and yet other than very brief mentions of him, I never got an entire deep dive. The last few chapters do reveal some depth into his character and I guess that is what leaves me with a desire to know more about him. He would make a fantastic basis for an entire novel.
The last line of this book is the most heartbreaking and what I believe the entire point of this book is. It adds the last emotional blow to the reader and to state that the world has become. I suggest the readers move through this book to reach this final point and to come out with a desire to know more about our world and how we perceive it.
February 2, 2025
(spoilers ahead)
Odesa Solstice is by no means the fast-paced novel the author advertises it as. The main incident does happen pretty early, but beyond that, the book is driven by a combination of the characters’ interiority and political commentary. That being said, that is not necessarily a bad thing — the style (like a lot of elements of this novel) is mostly just a matter of preference. I would definitely recommend this mostly to readers who want to delve deeply into a perspective (especially those who are unfamiliar with the topic), as opposed to anyone looking for a thriller.
The novel follows Tanya Platova, an Odesa programmer and hobbyist photographer/videographer, and Henri Langeron, a wealthy French aspiring filmmaker, after they witness a kidnapping on the Potemkin Stairs. While it sounds like this would be an action-filled premise, the kidnapping is largely a vehicle for pro-Ukraine political commentary. Even though Almeida’s writing is very literal and detailed, he takes little time to explain the dynamics of all parties involved (which I liked, as an American with only a distanced familiarity with the subject, but it is something to note for anyone who craves a bit more context/background for a story). While the writing style works for the more investigative parts of the novel, where the characters attempt to piece together the FSB’s increasingly dangerous presence in their lives, the dialogue and interior moments come off a little stilted, especially near the end as the characters recap how the book's events have changed their lives. But for how easily I was able to picture every place, event, and person, that was something I was able to get over. Almeida’s writing makes the novel feel like a television show — visually precise with episodic pacing.
Much like the plot, it takes a while to truly get at the heart of Tanya and Henri’s characters. We don’t learn much unique about them until two-thirds of the way through (and a lot of this realization comes because of a dog, which was a pleasantly lighthearted moment in an otherwise tense novel). Again, I didn’t necessarily mind this — I just had to adjust my expectations. Thinking of Odesa Solstice as a work of political literary fiction (not dissimilar to the meta novel at the crux of the story) rather than a thriller, having two seemingly opposite figures reaffirm or challenge their beliefs was a smart way to convey the vast layers of these conflicts to new readers like myself.
My main issue with the novel, however, is its depiction of women. At first, Henri’s budding attraction to Tanya lies somewhere between commonplace and contextually relevant, as does Tanya’s hidden relationship with Nadia, her best friend. Almeida initially does a good job of placing any sexual or romantic events within the context of KGB “honey traps,” which involved leading and catching relevant parties in affairs of many kinds. As the novel progresses, however, the literal description of Henri’s physical attraction towards nearly every woman in the novel becomes troubling to read. We spend a lot of time on the appearance of the female body, and very little on that of men, and the only fully intimate scene is one between two women (again, this can be interpreted as contextually relevant, but not enough so for me to ignore the stereotype). Henri and his friend/business partner even have an irritating “locker room” moment discussing the potential of Henri having two women lusting after him that fails to be relevant to the engaging political mystery that Almeida has set up.
That aside, Odesa Solstice is a fascinating read. As an American, I definitely do feel compelled to do more research on the current invasion, especially given America’s current political circumstances. The novel was incredibly detailed and easy to visualize, which made its plot (although slow) even more compelling.
Odesa Solstice is by no means the fast-paced novel the author advertises it as. The main incident does happen pretty early, but beyond that, the book is driven by a combination of the characters’ interiority and political commentary. That being said, that is not necessarily a bad thing — the style (like a lot of elements of this novel) is mostly just a matter of preference. I would definitely recommend this mostly to readers who want to delve deeply into a perspective (especially those who are unfamiliar with the topic), as opposed to anyone looking for a thriller.
The novel follows Tanya Platova, an Odesa programmer and hobbyist photographer/videographer, and Henri Langeron, a wealthy French aspiring filmmaker, after they witness a kidnapping on the Potemkin Stairs. While it sounds like this would be an action-filled premise, the kidnapping is largely a vehicle for pro-Ukraine political commentary. Even though Almeida’s writing is very literal and detailed, he takes little time to explain the dynamics of all parties involved (which I liked, as an American with only a distanced familiarity with the subject, but it is something to note for anyone who craves a bit more context/background for a story). While the writing style works for the more investigative parts of the novel, where the characters attempt to piece together the FSB’s increasingly dangerous presence in their lives, the dialogue and interior moments come off a little stilted, especially near the end as the characters recap how the book's events have changed their lives. But for how easily I was able to picture every place, event, and person, that was something I was able to get over. Almeida’s writing makes the novel feel like a television show — visually precise with episodic pacing.
Much like the plot, it takes a while to truly get at the heart of Tanya and Henri’s characters. We don’t learn much unique about them until two-thirds of the way through (and a lot of this realization comes because of a dog, which was a pleasantly lighthearted moment in an otherwise tense novel). Again, I didn’t necessarily mind this — I just had to adjust my expectations. Thinking of Odesa Solstice as a work of political literary fiction (not dissimilar to the meta novel at the crux of the story) rather than a thriller, having two seemingly opposite figures reaffirm or challenge their beliefs was a smart way to convey the vast layers of these conflicts to new readers like myself.
My main issue with the novel, however, is its depiction of women. At first, Henri’s budding attraction to Tanya lies somewhere between commonplace and contextually relevant, as does Tanya’s hidden relationship with Nadia, her best friend. Almeida initially does a good job of placing any sexual or romantic events within the context of KGB “honey traps,” which involved leading and catching relevant parties in affairs of many kinds. As the novel progresses, however, the literal description of Henri’s physical attraction towards nearly every woman in the novel becomes troubling to read. We spend a lot of time on the appearance of the female body, and very little on that of men, and the only fully intimate scene is one between two women (again, this can be interpreted as contextually relevant, but not enough so for me to ignore the stereotype). Henri and his friend/business partner even have an irritating “locker room” moment discussing the potential of Henri having two women lusting after him that fails to be relevant to the engaging political mystery that Almeida has set up.
That aside, Odesa Solstice is a fascinating read. As an American, I definitely do feel compelled to do more research on the current invasion, especially given America’s current political circumstances. The novel was incredibly detailed and easy to visualize, which made its plot (although slow) even more compelling.
February 26, 2025
Odesa Solstice is an effective depiction of the complex political climate between Russia and Ukraine, providing factual and personal insight into the dynamic behind current day conflict. Author Eric Almeida constructs a narrative which balances nuanced commentary on Russian-Ukrainian relations with equally complex relationships between fictional characters. After the public abduction of a man with known ties to the Russian government, accidental witnesses Tanya Platova, a Ukrainian woman with a passion for photography, and Henri Langeron, a French aristocrat, are thrown into a world of espionage and romance. The book reads like a detective novel, relatively slow paced, as the larger motivations and implications of the story’s initial events unfold. The thriller characteristic of the novel comes less from action, but more so from a building sense of paranoia and all-too-familiar political tension.
A central theme of the novel is the importance of art in revealing truth. Tanya’s talent for photography, Henri’s investment in Odesa’s film production studio, and one man’s novel become mechanisms for countering vicious propaganda. The story continuously emphasizes the importance of media in shaping political dynamics. In a meta sense, the book itself depicts the ranging impact of Russia’s increasing authoritarianism on the lives and values of everyday people, through the characters of various identities. Henri’s point of view in particular portrays a shifting political standpoint as the actions of the Russian government become increasingly cruel and absurd. It is likely that many real citizens in both Russia and Ukraine experienced a similar slow realization of Russia’s corruption as it “descended into darkness” over the past decade (306). Among the inner workings of characters’ thoughts and emotions, Almeida skillfully disperses glimpses into Russian-Ukrainian history, providing rich context to the story and, to an extent, the current ongoing conflict. Suspense slowly builds over the fate of the individual characters, but also over the fate of Ukraine in its position on the fissure between authoritarian Russia and the democratic West, giving the reader a sense of what the years may have been like building up to the outright invasion in 2022.
The written style of the novel includes beautiful details of the city of Odesa, with scenes of outdoor cafés and beaches in the summer setting. However, I did find the writing somewhat blunt, particularly in the excessively formal dialogue, which made it difficult to emotionally connect with the characters. I also had some qualms with the author’s representation of women, as their presence in the story was almost exclusively in relation to the male main character, Henri. I would have appreciated reading more of Tanya’s perspective and learning about her history or a more in depth exploration of her Ukrainian identity. However, these points of contention did not take away from the effectiveness of the political commentary— arguably the primary focus of the novel. Most importantly, Odesa Solstice offers a pressingly relevant view of Russian-Ukrainian relations and the resulting social-political atmosphere, in a manner accessible to a vast audience.
February 17, 2025
Odesa Solstice grabs its reader with a thrilling opening incident: our protagonists Tanya Platova and Henri Langeron witness an abduction in the early hours of the morning on the Potemkin Stairs in Odesa. The unassuming pair soon finds themselves swept up in a tense game of propaganda, surveillance, and mystery in which the truth constantly twists. I was pleased to find the novel engaged with complex and timely topics in an accessible, engaging manner; it weaves commentary on Ukraine’s socio-political climate with Russia throughout its plot, and I found myself motivated to research further upon closing the back cover. Its prose is clear and direct, and I found myself engrossed in the story, finishing it in days.
One of Odesa Solstice’s strongest aspects, I think, is its sense of atmosphere—the novel features vivid and frequent description of the smells, food, and sights of its vision of Odesa. The reader, in short, can frequently feel as if they are sitting at a cafe table with Tanya and Henri! This thorough attention to sensory detail especially suits the novel, I think, as so much of the tension in the plot lies in the characters being under uneasy surveillance; we the readers become watchers too.
I did find myself wondering about the depiction of women in the novel. There are frequent mentions of female characters’ attractiveness, especially that of Tanya. At times, I could appreciate these references as engaging with the idea of the“femme fatale,” as I think one of the novel’s strengths is playing with the conventions of spy thrillers to make commentary on current events. However, some of these descriptions felt gratuitous, in that the line between characters objectifying Tanya versus the novel doing so was more blurry than I would prefer.
Yet I'll finish my review by returning to another aspect of the novel I admired: the urge to create that unites so many of the its characters, and its underlying commentary on the power of literature and art to make change. Such a theme imbued the story with an additional layer of compelling depth—one, I think, likely to linger in the reader’s mind long after the last page.
Overall, Odesa Solstice is a fast-paced read, and one I’d recommend to readers interested in the thriller genre, international politics, or considerations of the power of creativity and literature at large.
One of Odesa Solstice’s strongest aspects, I think, is its sense of atmosphere—the novel features vivid and frequent description of the smells, food, and sights of its vision of Odesa. The reader, in short, can frequently feel as if they are sitting at a cafe table with Tanya and Henri! This thorough attention to sensory detail especially suits the novel, I think, as so much of the tension in the plot lies in the characters being under uneasy surveillance; we the readers become watchers too.
I did find myself wondering about the depiction of women in the novel. There are frequent mentions of female characters’ attractiveness, especially that of Tanya. At times, I could appreciate these references as engaging with the idea of the“femme fatale,” as I think one of the novel’s strengths is playing with the conventions of spy thrillers to make commentary on current events. However, some of these descriptions felt gratuitous, in that the line between characters objectifying Tanya versus the novel doing so was more blurry than I would prefer.
Yet I'll finish my review by returning to another aspect of the novel I admired: the urge to create that unites so many of the its characters, and its underlying commentary on the power of literature and art to make change. Such a theme imbued the story with an additional layer of compelling depth—one, I think, likely to linger in the reader’s mind long after the last page.
Overall, Odesa Solstice is a fast-paced read, and one I’d recommend to readers interested in the thriller genre, international politics, or considerations of the power of creativity and literature at large.
May 1, 2024
Assassination attempts, Russian surveillance, kidnapped writers, and a dog named Rufus. What more could I ask for from a thriller? I was pleasantly surprised by Odesa Solstice, and all it brought to the table. I’ve been getting into thrillers that are fiction with a non-fiction angle, and Almeida did not only do this, he excelled at this. This type of international/political thriller is the author’s forte. Depicted in these pages is the story of a former Russian FSB member who leaves the organization, and the harrowing consequences that follow that decision. The prose is direct and concise, painting a defined image. Not once did I find the language muddled or confusing, yet it was not plain, either.
A mix of drama -- entangling characters both on a complicated intimate and professional level -- gives this book room to breathe and let the reader get invested. The political plot didn’t overwhelm me, partially because it was intertwined with the characters so well. Tanya’s personal life, her navigation through new relationships, and the failure of her old ones place the political aspects within someone's life, rather than seeing them just as abstract concepts. She interacted with them in a way that was plausible, but not talked about often.
This engaging read is filled with both an interesting and informative tale, which is one of the reasons I’m glad up Odesa Solstice. I knew little about the Ukrainian-Russian conflict, but I learned so much, without it feeling like I was being taught. Having an emotional connection to the tenacious characters truly gave me the emotional energy to put towards my curiosity. I saw Ukraine in a new light, pictured as a place where democracy reigns freely. The overarching message of the novel is fascinating because it seems like it’s what the author has done for himself in his life -- a writer showing the power of literature, and using that responsibility to inform others about the fight to stand against authoritarianism, and emphasize a democratic and free future. This is a story about the work of a writer fighting corruption and hate written by a writer using writing to fight corruption and hate. There needs to be more novels like this.
A mix of drama -- entangling characters both on a complicated intimate and professional level -- gives this book room to breathe and let the reader get invested. The political plot didn’t overwhelm me, partially because it was intertwined with the characters so well. Tanya’s personal life, her navigation through new relationships, and the failure of her old ones place the political aspects within someone's life, rather than seeing them just as abstract concepts. She interacted with them in a way that was plausible, but not talked about often.
This engaging read is filled with both an interesting and informative tale, which is one of the reasons I’m glad up Odesa Solstice. I knew little about the Ukrainian-Russian conflict, but I learned so much, without it feeling like I was being taught. Having an emotional connection to the tenacious characters truly gave me the emotional energy to put towards my curiosity. I saw Ukraine in a new light, pictured as a place where democracy reigns freely. The overarching message of the novel is fascinating because it seems like it’s what the author has done for himself in his life -- a writer showing the power of literature, and using that responsibility to inform others about the fight to stand against authoritarianism, and emphasize a democratic and free future. This is a story about the work of a writer fighting corruption and hate written by a writer using writing to fight corruption and hate. There needs to be more novels like this.
August 1, 2025
In Odesa Solstice, a political thriller, the city’s iconic Potemkin Stairs become the stage for a brutal kidnapping that catapults two unwitting witnesses into an international conflict. What follows is a tense and intelligent narrative that plunges deep into the waters of modern espionage, disinformation, and the terrifying power of state-sponsored propaganda. Almeida has crafted a page turning novel that examines topics such as truth, international intelligence networks and interpersonal relationships.
The story unfolds through the eyes of two protagonists, Tanya and Henri, whose lives are irrevocably altered when they witness the abduction. Almeida develops these characters with care; Tanya is a
programmer with a passion for photography, and Henri, a French filmmaker, carries the historical weight of being a descendant of Comte Langeron, a 19th century French nobleman who was a count in the Russian empire. The reader follows their harrowing journey as they are implicated in the crime by Russian state media and must navigate a perilous world of FSB intimidation tactics while cooperating with Ukrainian detectives. I found Almeida’s decision to focus the narrative through ordinary people an effective way to both understand the stakes at hand and feel an emotional tie to an aspect of geopolitical tension. The romantic tension that develops serves to add dimension to the characters and further pulls readers as the narrative builds.
A primary theme in the book is the exploration of justice as a concept that transcends national loyalties. This theme is elegantly underscored by the epigraph from Ivan Bunin, which rejects ideological extremes in favor of truth. Almeida skillfully examines the machinery of disinformation, showing how narratives are weaponized by state actors to manipulate public perception and demonize individuals. The plot thoughtfully dissects how propaganda is constructed and disseminated, making the abstract concept of an information war feel concrete and immediate.
Odesa Solstice is simultaneously intelligent, but light enough to be enjoyed as a beach read. I would recommend this book for those interested in geopolitics but are deterred by books that read like a textbook.
The story unfolds through the eyes of two protagonists, Tanya and Henri, whose lives are irrevocably altered when they witness the abduction. Almeida develops these characters with care; Tanya is a
programmer with a passion for photography, and Henri, a French filmmaker, carries the historical weight of being a descendant of Comte Langeron, a 19th century French nobleman who was a count in the Russian empire. The reader follows their harrowing journey as they are implicated in the crime by Russian state media and must navigate a perilous world of FSB intimidation tactics while cooperating with Ukrainian detectives. I found Almeida’s decision to focus the narrative through ordinary people an effective way to both understand the stakes at hand and feel an emotional tie to an aspect of geopolitical tension. The romantic tension that develops serves to add dimension to the characters and further pulls readers as the narrative builds.
A primary theme in the book is the exploration of justice as a concept that transcends national loyalties. This theme is elegantly underscored by the epigraph from Ivan Bunin, which rejects ideological extremes in favor of truth. Almeida skillfully examines the machinery of disinformation, showing how narratives are weaponized by state actors to manipulate public perception and demonize individuals. The plot thoughtfully dissects how propaganda is constructed and disseminated, making the abstract concept of an information war feel concrete and immediate.
Odesa Solstice is simultaneously intelligent, but light enough to be enjoyed as a beach read. I would recommend this book for those interested in geopolitics but are deterred by books that read like a textbook.
February 26, 2025
The best way, I think, to describe Eric Almeida’s latest novel, Odesa Solstice, would be an intriguing political drama. The story begins with a kidnapping incident that entangles and complicates the lives of two strangers in Odesa, Ukraine before the Russian invasion in February 2022. Almeida begins successfully with the trappings of a thriller and the tension is held throughout by incidents of espionage, political smear-campaigns, and attempted violence by members of the FSB. But I believe that readers will come to find that the novel’s greatest strength is Almeida’s careful attention to both political and personal dynamics.
Tanya Platova and Henri Langeron make for interesting main characters and provide distinctly different perspectives that overall paint a vivid picture of Ukraine during this time. This is bolstered by a larger cast of characters that deepen both the political commentary and interpersonal relationships. One aspect that I would like to highlight is the queer relationship between two female characters, which came as a surprise to me while reading. Although I appreciated this original perspective in such a text, I felt that it was undermined in some ways by the overly sexualized depiction of the women. In some parts, this could be explained away by Langeron’s particular point of view, but I often found that the voyeuristic descriptions did not sufficiently propel the narrative in a way that justified their repetition.
What came through to me most clearly while reading this novel was Eric Almeida’s extensive knowledge and research of the various political operations that the FSB engaged in. Though at times, I felt that it took me out of the narrative, I found this insight to be very enriching and fulfilling as a reader. As a French speaker myself, I was particularly charmed by the use of French which added to Langeron’s characterization but also to the local context of Russia and Eastern Europe, where the study of French is a continued tradition at schools and universities. Overall, I would recommend this novel to anyone who would like to dive deeper into Ukrainian and Russian politics in an entertaining and satisfying way!
Tanya Platova and Henri Langeron make for interesting main characters and provide distinctly different perspectives that overall paint a vivid picture of Ukraine during this time. This is bolstered by a larger cast of characters that deepen both the political commentary and interpersonal relationships. One aspect that I would like to highlight is the queer relationship between two female characters, which came as a surprise to me while reading. Although I appreciated this original perspective in such a text, I felt that it was undermined in some ways by the overly sexualized depiction of the women. In some parts, this could be explained away by Langeron’s particular point of view, but I often found that the voyeuristic descriptions did not sufficiently propel the narrative in a way that justified their repetition.
What came through to me most clearly while reading this novel was Eric Almeida’s extensive knowledge and research of the various political operations that the FSB engaged in. Though at times, I felt that it took me out of the narrative, I found this insight to be very enriching and fulfilling as a reader. As a French speaker myself, I was particularly charmed by the use of French which added to Langeron’s characterization but also to the local context of Russia and Eastern Europe, where the study of French is a continued tradition at schools and universities. Overall, I would recommend this novel to anyone who would like to dive deeper into Ukrainian and Russian politics in an entertaining and satisfying way!
February 27, 2025
There is no doubt that Odesa Solstice is not a book for every reader who picks it up, but that’s okay. It isn’t meant to be. It’s a book for a reader who appreciates the minute details of a novel and is patient enough to understand the reward that awaits them at the end of the story. While some will say that they expected this thriller to have more action seeped through the entire book, I was fond of the slow, almost methodical, approach that the author took. It truly did an astounding job of capturing the suspense that fills many stories like this one. The quotidian, the small, the everyday, the mundane… they all fall under speculation. The seemingly thoughtless tasks we fill our time with become all we can think about. As someone who has never been in Tanya or Henri’s situation, I cannot attest to how one would act in reality, but I imagine it being similar to the two protagonists in many ways. Towards the beginning of the book you will be met with a rush of adrenaline, it may subside as you approach the middle of the story, BUT KEEP READING.
In terms of the actual plot and storyline, I found the two very unique and entertaining. The author’s writing tells stories I’ve heard throughout several history courses, articles, and papers in a way that I have never before experienced. The political commentary could almost be a book in itself. That is where I believe that this story thrives most. The author has managed to take something so topical and so of the moment and turn what is a truth for many people into a fictitious reality that is digestible across cultures. That is what lots of great storytelling does.
When deciding whether you want to purchase, and read, this book or not it’s important to ask yourself a couple of questions:
1. Am I willing to commit the time to reading such a descriptive, thought-out, and intentional book? *These kinds of things do take time*
2. Do I have a love for thrillers and an interest in engaging in pieces of political commentary along the way?
If you answered yes to all the questions above, Odesa Solstice is the book for you!
In terms of the actual plot and storyline, I found the two very unique and entertaining. The author’s writing tells stories I’ve heard throughout several history courses, articles, and papers in a way that I have never before experienced. The political commentary could almost be a book in itself. That is where I believe that this story thrives most. The author has managed to take something so topical and so of the moment and turn what is a truth for many people into a fictitious reality that is digestible across cultures. That is what lots of great storytelling does.
When deciding whether you want to purchase, and read, this book or not it’s important to ask yourself a couple of questions:
1. Am I willing to commit the time to reading such a descriptive, thought-out, and intentional book? *These kinds of things do take time*
2. Do I have a love for thrillers and an interest in engaging in pieces of political commentary along the way?
If you answered yes to all the questions above, Odesa Solstice is the book for you!
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