Three Blondes and Death

by Yuriy Tarnawsky

Based on a complex mathematical scheme that the author, a computer scientist and linguist, developed as a substitute for the traditional architecture of a novel, and written in a deliberately sparse and structured syntax that ruthlessly compartmentalizes reality, Three Blondes and Death is an hermetic and hypnotic treatment of the classic themes of love and death. Its strange protagonist, with the literally unspeakable name Hwbrgdtse, searches for meaning in life through the three women with whom he successively falls in love. He finds, however, only life's absurdity, ending in death—a death to which his quest eventually reconciles him.

Three Blondes and Death takes place in an ambiguous time and geography that turn out to be present-day America. The relations between the protagonist and the objects of his love are totally perverse and destructive; the texture of their lives is deceptively simple but implies a dark and undecipherable complexity; and the angst of mortality hangs over every gesture. A lunatic simplicity governs the behavior of Hwbrgdtse, which enables him to face issues of love and death more directly than is usually the case with romantic heroes.

Tarnawsky's third work of fiction is unusually readable, even magnetic, once we are drawn in by its hypnotic repetitions. The logical clarity of its style contrasts with the irrational, often dreamlike content. The action is stark and at the same time mysterious. Whether the strange sensibility that suffuses this story can be traced to the mathematically rigorous mind of its author, or to his Ukrainian roots, or to his multilingual background, Three Blondes and Death is an intriguing and unique work.

451 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1993

About the author

For Ukrainian-language profile see Юрій Тарнавський

Reviews

[Nik Maack · Rating 5 out of 5]

The first time I read this book, I wrote the review below. I have just read it a second time. Second review to follow this first one.

***

What did I just read? I couldn't tell you. It's probably one of the oddest books I've read in a long time. I found the book while on holidays in Philadelphia. I picked the book up at random and read the opening. Weird little sentences. I read the back of the book.

"Based on a complex mathematical scheme that the author, a computer scientist and linguist, developed as a substitute for the traditional architecture of a novel, and written in deliberately sparse and structured syntax that ruthlessly compartmentalizes reality, Three Blondes and Death is an hermetic and hypnotic treatment of the classical themes of love and death."

What? What the hell does that mean? I put the book back on the shelf. I'm not buying this.

But something about the book really excited me. I picked it up and read the opening again.

The main character's name is Hwbrgdtse. What? Why? I bought the book. "Out of print," the store owner had written on the inside cover. This felt like a challenge. There aren't enough people buying this book to keep it being published. Are you going to be like those jerks who didn't buy and read this book?

There's no real narrative. There are multiple chapters in a row, throughout the 451 page book, that are dreams. In fact, there are probably more dreams in the book than there is plot. That sounds annoying, but in a weird way it gave the book more depth instead of less. It felt like therapy, oddly.

There are surprises, in the text. Some were so great, and oddly pleasing, I had to stop reading to feel what they brought out in me. I wanted to talk to people about this book. I showed it to a friend of mine. He read the back. He looked at the opening. He handed the book back to me.

"Yeah, it looks weird," he said.

His reaction frustrated me. I wanted him to get it. To be drawn in. But what was drawing me in? What the hell was this thing?

There are moments in the book that are extremely unpleasant. There are some that are great. There are others that are simply confusing.

I got to the end, closed the book, and said, "What the hell?"

I enjoyed it. The book got to me. I don't know how or why.

***

I gave a copy of the book to my therapist, as a gift. She was confused. I described the book to her. I may have used the phrase, "An incredibly difficult read."

She said she couldn't promise to read it, and laughed.

Time passed. Almost two years. Something about the book stuck with me. I found myself wanting to read it again. I ordered another copy of the book, online. When it arrived, I was pleasantly surprised to see it was a hard cover. (The first copy I'd bought was a paperback, I think.)

Re-reading the book, there were things I'd forgotten, things I'd remembered. It brought up complicated emotions and weirdness in me. The book is very emotionally detached. Almost psychopathic. But there are places where the emotions ring loudly. While the chapters often seem disconnected entirely, there are little echoes here and there. Something in one chapter echoes what happened in another. With a second reading, these echoes were louder.

The book is weird. I still don't know what the author was trying to do. However, it stood up well, for a second reading. Will I read it a third time? I don't know.

I have recommended this book to several people on twitter, even though I have a hard time explaining why I like it so much.

[Andy · Rating 5 out of 5]

I very thoroughly enjoyed this book. It's frequently very funny in a dry, deadpan fashion as if it's not trying to be.

There' no story, just a lot of disconnected scenes involving the same central characters in what are often their own dream sequences. Even the "real" narratives have a fantastical, hallucinatory quality. The language is deliberately very minimalistically simple (almost 1st grade reader style) which only adds to the amusingness of the whole thing.


I upped my rating to 5 stars from 4 while reading part IV (Death) of the the book because the writing was tickling my fancy so much. Seems like the darker the subject matter got, the droller the writing got. This final section reminded me a lot of Thomas Bernhard's comic mode, not to mention Kafka, whose presence is all throughout.

[Jim Elkins · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book is full of misjudgments. First, it misjudges the effect, force, and interest of short sentences. All the sentences in the book are brief. All of them, in all 451 pages. None are sentence fragments. So the book does not experiment with modernist prose. It is apparently intended to emulate Beckett. It is apparently intended to be hypnotic. It is apparently intended to hint at the book's hidden and rule-bound structure. But it is a mannerism. And the mannerism is not connected to the content of the book. As the subjects change the writing remains the same. Tarnawsky could have learned from Stein. Use fragments. Vary. Long and short. Don't just declare again and again.[return][return]The book also misjudges its form. It is billed as a novel. It is actually 200 two-page prose poems. There is a deliberate avoidance of the obligation of narrative. That avoidance is not tempered by moments when rules can be guessed. That avoidance is not tempered by the emergence of any new structure. That avoidance is undermined by individual passages that show the author is not a machine. He is a late surrealist, working in a well-known tradition. When he writes pages of successful surrealist prose, he undermines his own attempt to pretend he is entirely rule-bound.[return][return]The book misjudges the device of the dream. Many sections begin by announcing they are dreams. That can work well when other sections provide contrasting reality. Here none do. Many dreams could just as well have happened in waking life. Many episodes of waking life would have been dreams. There is no point in declaring some are dreams. It is an annoying tic, a crutch that supports nothing.[return][return]The book misjudges affect and emotion. Most of it is meant to be curiously passionless. Sex is described mechanically and carefully. Emotions are simple. Many times sections end with characters being dumbly happy, astonished, pleased. That is intended to convey childlike wonder and purity. It ends up being simpleminded with no clear reason. Then there is one section, near the end, in which the main character rapes someone. The main character's name is Hwbrgdtse. It is meant to be unpronounceable. I will write more on that in a moment. The section is called 'Hwbrgdtse Rapes a Girl.' In it, Hwbrgdtse plans an executes a rape. It is described step by step, along with his thoughts. It is intended to be experimental. It is horrifying. It is like a fragment of 'In Cold Blood.' Perhaps, in another context (I have to be careful not to make my sentences too long, or use anything other than the most schoolbookish grammaer), that could have been interesting. But it makes a reader wonder: am I supposed to be thinking the entirety of this book is written by a psychopath? And the answer to that is clearly No, because many sections are also intended to be childlike, amusing, funny, and many other things. So it means the author has completely failed to imagine the entirety of his own project. And this brings me to a conclusion.[return][return]I know why these things are misjudged. It is because the author uses 'a complex mathematical scheme' to determine what he writes about. Even without knowing he used mathematical rules (and I know nothing more: I only read the back cover copy), I would have guessed. Many sections have unexpected transitions of the kind that are impelled by rules. But the authors in Oulipo knew that not all rules result in expressive forms. As an author you also have to look back on your work after the rules have been followed, and read it again as if you did not know the rules. Only then can you see what you have made. This is a very common failure in rule-bound surrealist prose, so let me say it again: not every rule produces an expressive result. Not every unexpected meeting of metaphors is interesting. Tarnawsky could learn a lot from Leiris, who did not follow rules, and he could learn a lot from Perec, who did. The back cover also says Tarnawsky has 'developed... a substitute for the traditional architecture of the novel.' The reason he hasn't is because he does not listen, as a reader, to what he produces, as a mathematician. There is productive psychosis in this book, but Tarnawsky has to see where it appears as psychosis in order to control it as a novelist.[return][return](As a postscript, and an example of the author's lack of awareness of his function as an author: There is a section, late in the book, just before Hwbrgdtse dies, in which goes to a teacher to learn how to pronounce his name. It is whimsical, but disconnected from the rest of the novel, where the issues never arises; and that disconnection is neither supported by half-visible mathematical rules, which might have shown readers why such an intrusion was required, nor contradicted by adjoining sections, which pursue other subjects without every mentioning problems with pronunciation. So the section appears exactly as it is: something enjoined by the author's hidden schemata. It can express only the author's lack of understanding that evidence of a hidden structure is insufficient to sustain interest. Compare that to the fascinating and bizarre effect of the book's final section, in which the author goes in search of a watch repairman, even though he has just died, in the previous section. That is an expressive, surrealist invention. The section in which Hwbrgdtse attempts to pronounce his name is an inexpressive, pointlessly opaque, unaffecting, uninterestingly illegible interpolation in the uninterestingly illegible schema of the book as a whole.)

[Isaiah · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was terrible for my mental health it was fire. I recommend

[Kari · Rating 1 out of 5]

I don't claim to be a cerebral giant, but this was the only book in my life that I have never been able to read. It languishes on my bookshelf. There is something hostile about this writer.