El Hielo

Ice Trilogy #1

by Vladimir Sorokin

Una ola de brutales asesinatos sacude Moscú. Los cadáveres aparecen con el tórax destrozado y el corazón aplastado. El único nexo aparente entre las víctimas es su aspecto físico: todos son rubios y de ojos azules.
En una ciudad dominada por bandas criminales y empresarios sin escrúpulos, un grupo misterioso ha puesto en marcha un siniestro plan: el objetivo es encontrar a sus 23.000 hermanos perdidos. Necesitan dar con ellos para despertarlos y liberarlos. ¿Cómo? Con unos martillos de hielo cuyas cabezas heladas son los restos del extraño meteorito caído en Tugunska en 1908. Sólo una pequeña minoría consigue renacer después de que sus corazones extraídos del pecho pronuncien las palabras del 'hielo'.

Genres: Fiction, Russia, Science Fiction, Russian Literature, Mystery, Fantasy, Novels

334 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2002

About the author

Vladimir Sorokin (Владимир Сорокин, Vlagyimir Szorokin) was born in a small town outside of Moscow in 1955. He trained as an engineer at the Moscow Institute of Oil and Gas, but turned to art and writing, becoming a major presence in the Moscow underground of the 1980s. His work was banned in the Soviet Union, and his first novel, The Queue, was published by the famed émigré dissident Andrei Sinyavsky in France in 1983. In 1992, Sorokin’s Collected Stories was nominated for the Russian Booker Prize; in 1999, the publication of the controversial novel Blue Lard, which included a sex scene between clones of Stalin and Khrushchev, led to public demonstrations against the book and to demands that Sorokin be prosecuted as a pornographer; in 2001, he received the Andrei Biely Award for outstanding contributions to Russian literature. Sorokin is also the author of the screenplays for the movies Moscow, The Kopeck, and 4, and of the libretto for Leonid Desyatnikov’s Rosenthal’s Children, the first new opera to be commissioned by the Bolshoi Theater since the 1970s. He has written numerous plays and short stories, and his work has been translated throughout the world. Among his most recent books are Sugar Kremlin and Day of the Oprichnik. He lives in Moscow.

Reviews

[Glenn Russell · Rating 5 out of 5]

Finnish-Estonian production of Ice based of Vladimir Sorokin's novel performed at the Von Krahl Theatre in Helsinki

Riveting. Absolutely riveting.

And this riveting, spellbinding novel comes in two different flavors. You get to choose which one might suit your taste.

Flavor number one is to read Bro before Ice. Flavor number two is reading Ice without having read Bro. Permit me to elaborate.

Bro is Volume #1 of Vladimir Sorokin’s Ice Trilogy. Bro is the first person account of how a young Russian by the name of Alexander Snegirey has his heart awakened by Primordial Light in 1928. As part of his awakening he is given the name of Bro and told he must find his Brothers and Sisters who have also been chosen to likewise have their hearts awakened. The novel takes readers on Bro’s breathtaking adventure up until 1950. Ice continues the thread of the story beginning in the year 2000. Thus Bro provides not only historic context for Ice but puts the reader in the know about those who come to have their hearts awakened.

I'm glad I read Bro prior to reading Ice since I generally like to follow a story chronologically. Added to this, I would make the world's worst detective - much better for me to know the basic facts of what's going on rather than being kept in the dark.

British critic Michael Froggatt disagrees. In his review for Strange Horizons Mr. Froggatt judges Ice the strongest novel in the trilogy and goes on to say how reading Bro lessens the mystery and suspense of Ice. He concludes by suggesting a reader who is interested in tackling Vladimir Sorokin's Ice Trilogy begin with Ice and work outwards.

Either way, Ice possesses an intensity, a surging drive right from the first pages. The narrative voice is detached, hard-edge, objective, as if a journalist recording the nitty-gritty of combat in a war zone. We encounter drug dealers, drug addicts, prostitutes, bottom of the barrel ruck and their coarse, crude, brutal, blunt way of speaking and dealing with one another – a novel not for the squeamish.

Many of the men and women are given a special call-out. Two examples: 1) “Ilona: 17 years old, tall, thin, with a lively laughing face, leather pants, platform shoes, a white top.” - 2) “Borenboim: 44 years old, medium height, thinning blonde hair, an intelligent face, blue eyes, thin glasses in gold frames, a dark green three-piece suit."

There’s mystery afoot, a stroke of Vladimir Sorokin infusion of radical myth mixed in with cosmic science fiction: these denizens of Moscow’s concrete canyons wonder what the hell is going on with the ice and all those primitive looking ice hammers. And the shift in their feelings. The contrast between the scummy day-to- day lives of these people and what they eventually feel in their hearts is quite striking: hard-as-nails drug kingpin Borenboim talking about his tender heart; likewise Nikolaeva the prostitute - very funny in an odd, offbeat way.

Two glimmers of refinement in this dank, cesspool world: Boremboim has a collection of Borges stories in his briefcase and Mozart is playing softly at a rehabilitation center. In Moscow 2000 overflowing with hard rock and liquor, gadgets, computer games and Hollywood posters, to know at least somebody appreciates Borges and Mozart is most refreshing.

Part Two switches to an old lady’s first person account retracing her childhood in a poor Russian village under Nazi occupation and her joining others villagers herded off to Germany to work in a factory. But then something remarkable happens. She’s singled out since she has blonde hair and blue eyes. What follows thereafter ties her to a strange brotherhood. Her worldview is forever transformed – from 1950 right up until 2000, the grueling, gritty details of her earthbound, everyday routine take a distant second to her true identity and mission.

One of the more stimulating dimensions of Ice is the way in which the story raises a number of philosophical issues. How bound are member of a particular religious cult or sect by their beliefs? Jim Jones and the mass suicides/mass murders in Jonestown, David Koresh and the Branch Davidians going up in flames in their compound in Waco, Marshall Applewhite leading Heaven’s Gate members in mass suicide - we need only think of these events to know that sects and cults can be closely linked to violence and death.

And considering the frequent instances of torture, imprisonment and murder throughout history perpetuated in the name of religion, how far are the major religions removed from sects and cults? Any time members view others through the lens of “us versus them” watch out as brutality and viciousness of one stripe or the other are not far behind.

What are we to make of the fellowship in Ice? Those initiates speak of opening the heart but how open is their heart to those outside their fellowship? Referring to “ordinary” humans as meat machines unworthy of life has a frightening ring. And this reference to libraries: "Thousands of meat machines were always sitting there, engaged in silent madness: they attentively leafed through sheets of paper covered with letters." Sounds like a rant spouted by a semi-illiterate thug.

Witnessing the horrors of twentieth century totalitarian governments is hardly less disturbing. And how about the omnipresence of contemporary multinational corporations? Perhaps Vladimir Sorokin in his sly way is commenting on the dangers of all forms of power and coercion reducing individuals to hungry consumers or meat machines.

Even if Ice is the only novel within the trilogy one reads, it is well worth it. For fans of the author, both old and new, nothing short of all three volumes will do.


Russian author Vladimir Sorokin

"Then I saw OUR PEOPLE again. Their hearts shone. And they swarm around me. There were more and more of them. I reached out to more and more new ones, to ones that were far, far away. And finally, I saw the hearts of ALL OUR PEOPLE on this gloomy planet." - Vladimir Sorokin, Ice

[Jean Ra · Rating 4 out of 5]

Pues resulta que la semana pasada fui a vacunarme y no sé porqué me dijeron que la única vacuna que quedaba disponible era la Sputnik, dado que la de Johnson & Johnson justamente se había agotado. Dije que yo no tengo prejuicios y que una vacuna es una vacuna. Nyet problem.

El caso es que pasada una semana el único problema ha sido un ligero cansancio, me subió un poco la temperatura y no hubo más...

Dios, qué mal me siento de golpe. Tengo muchas, muchas ganas de tomar vodka. De golpe socializar los medios de producción, partido único...

Сквозь грозы сияло нам солнце свободы, И Ленин великий нам путь озарил:
На правое дело он поднял народы, На труд и на подвиги нас вдохновил!

Qué ha sido eso, tavarish?

El camarada Sorokin es ciertamente un elemento subversivo, a todas luces poseído por la decadencia burguesa que asola occidente. Con este libro, que se permite realizar insinuaciones verdaderamente odiosas y mendaces acerca de la úniсa y poderosa Unión Soviética, repitiendo las acostumbradas mentiras de la prensa burguesa fascista occidental, que pretende empañar las gloriosas conquistas del pueblo ruso. A pesar de todo, su libro resulta ciertamente entretenido, de justicia es reconocer esos logros dentro de su corrupción burguesa.

Se inicia como una novela de misterio. En Moscú rubios de todo tipo son secuestrados en plena calle y posteriormente golpeados con un objeto contundente que parece hecho de hielo. Es una prueba mediante la cual una secta pretende hallar a seres de luz (esto es literal, no es ironía) que formaron la luz primaria y que permanecen dormidos dentro de la máquinas carnosas que somos los humanos, que somos muertos vivos según la delirante visión propuesta por este burgués vendido al capitalismo, seguramente lo habrá ideado entre porros de marihuana y otras drogas decadentes. Al ser golpeados, las víctimas o mueren o despierta en su interior una voz, la del corazón, y se revela como uno de los elegidos.

El objetivo de esta secta es hallar a 23.000 de los hermanos.

La novela se divide en cuatro segmentos. El primero a ratos parece un guion cinematográfico, de hecho imita muchos de sus gestos, abunda el diálogo, las acotaciones y el lenguaje coloquial. El ruso pervertido por el lenguaje de los вор! La narración se hace algo monótona porque narra con copiosos detalles estos secuestros y el posterior proceso del despertar de estos elegidos, aproximadamente unas cuatro historias en las que intervienen prostitutas, adolescentes anti-sistema, mafiosos... se podría decir que son los marginados de la sociedad, vigorosamente liderada por Vladimir Vladimirovich.

No es hasta que se llega a la segunda parte que empiezas a comprender que esta limitación en verdad es una táctica decadente para engatusar al lector. O puede que en el fondo el camarada Sorokin sea un buen socialista y se proponga retratar un período decadente. En la segunda parte toma el relevo de la narración una anciana que aparece fugazmente hacia el final del primer segmento y que fue de las primeras rusas en 'despertar'. Su juventud se remonta a los años de la invasión alemana y entonces se nos narra los inicios de esta secta. Ahí la narración adquiere más relieve, es más honda, la prosa narrativa es más convencional, pero te das cuenta que viene a adaptarse a una narradora más sensible y despierta. Los procesos de despertar se expresan con un lenguaje mucho más rico y poético y contrasta con la superficialidad del primer segmento, situado en la Rusia de inicios del siglo XXI. La historia de esta anciana arranca pues en los años 40 y continúa hasta el momento en el que aparece y coincide con los personajes del primer segmento, su historia también atraviesa los mandatos de Stalin, Jrsuchov y posteriores, hasta llegar a ese borracho del pelo blanco de cuyo nombre no quiero acordarme. En este segmento, el más largo, también se nos explica la mitología que encierra esta secta y ahí te das cuenta que la narración histórica se fusiona con elementos de género fantástico, pues se nos da a entender que estos seres son prácticamente ángeles. Sin ir más lejos, moviéndose entre agentes de la policía secreta, los elegidos deben realizar su búsqueda y te cuentan que estos martillos de hielo en realidad son fragmentos de un meteorito que aterrizó en Siberia en 1908, momento inicial de la historia. Esa mezcla, bien hilada, además de su rica imaginación y el rigor dramático, ha sido lo que más me ha convencido de la obra de Sorokin.

Si nos fijamos en detalle esos dos bloques, descubrimos que establecen cierta dialéctica. Por un lado se nos retrata las sabidas estampas de la terrible represión soviética, Sorokin explícita no pocas torturas y abusos policiales, pero también, en la primera parte, la que ocurre en la actual república federal, se nos representa un panorama dominado por las mafias que cometen actos todavía más brutales (castigan a una prostituta obligándola que se introduzca una botella por el ano), de forma que comprobamos que la desaparición de la URSS y la llegada de la democracia tiene más de apariencia que no cambio verdadero.

En la tercera descubres que ha habido una elipsis importante. Nos habla de un futuro próximo, quizá sólo sea unos pocos años desde el primer segmento de la novela. Por lo visto el meteorito fue descubierto por empresas rusas y éste ha sido mercantilizado y se ha construido una especie de experiencia de realidad virtual que viene a emular toda la mitología narrada en el segundo segmento de la novela. Una Rusia vendida al mercantilismo y el libre mercado, que al mismo tiempo desvirtúa pero a nivel narrativo nos abre la incógnita si las dos partes anteriores no eran también una narración de esa simulación, es decir, que no forman parte de una realidad real, sino virtual.
De todas formas, a nivel literario esta parte también tiene interés propio. La componen los testimonios de los usuarios de El Hielo, esta experiencia virtual que se comercializa, que en verdad son diferentes voces narrativas y sirve para contrastar como reaccionan a los mismos hechos de la experiencia virtual. Sin ir más lejos, en una de las fases finales de la experiencia virtual despiertan en una isla rodeados de los 23000 hermanos, todos van desnudos y realizan esos cánticos ancestrales. Un sacerdote lo caracteriza de pornográfico y diabólico, otro sólo se fija en que todos van desnudos, mientras que un kazajo ex-veterano de la II Guerra Mundial, que ha revivido previamente sus terribles experiencias bélicas, una escena llena de muerte y fuego, queda fascinado que toda esa gente esté viva, en paz y cantando. Cada narrativa se adapta al personaje, de forma que también Sorokin despliega un calidoscópico abanico de estilos.

La cuarta parte vendría a ser un epílogo y creo que ya he contado ya bastante y por encima lo que contiene esta estupenda novela de Sorokin, autor que desafortunadamente ha sido poco traducido al español. Para mayor desgracia El Hielo es la primera parte de una trilogía y es el único volumen traducido, por lo tanto las otras dos partes quedan un poco en el aire y falta por ver por dónde continua Sorokin en los dos volúmenes restantes, posibilidad que se me antoja más que suculenta dado el potencial ofrecido en El Hielo.

Pero me doy cuenta que el ruso ya no es tan misterioso como antes, quizá le de un tiento... Славься, Отечество наше свободное!

[Charles Puskas · Rating 5 out of 5]

I greatly enjoyed this gnostic tale set in the 20th & 21st centuries by one of Russia's greatest living novelists. He creatively addresses many questions raised by those who have read the ancient esoteric mystical texts. Who are the enlightened few? How are they identified & how do they receive enlightenment? A dualistic cosmogony in Part two plots out the course that the enlightened must follow in the dreary, dismal world they currently inhabit. The meaning of love & the language of the heart are profoundly expressed (in a platonic manner). Publisher's summary: Moscow has been hit by a wave of brutal murders. The victims are of both sexes, from different backgrounds, and of all ages, but invariably blond and blue-eyed. They are found with their breastbones smashed in, their hearts crushed. There is no sign of any motive. Ice is at the center of Vladimir Sorokin's epic Ice Trilogy, which is also published by NYRB Classics.

[Anna P (whatIreallyRead) · Rating 1 out of 5]

СТИЛЬ И ЯЗЫК

"Удостоиться при жизни звания «классик» — удел немногих писателей. Владимир Сорокин — классик. Его превозносят, его ненавидят, но все сходятся в одном: Сорокин — великолепный мастер слова, блестящий стилист"

С такими ожиданиями я взяла эту книгу. Давайте посмотрим на этого классика?

"На полу солома обосцанная, в углу куча говна.", "И так мне хорошо стало, что не сдержалась и обосцалася вся.", "Вот и ладно. Поперди, маленькой, поперди...", "Слушай, у нас с рублями облом. Давай я тебе отсосу? ", "От Лапина слегка попахивало калом.", "Вы все слабохуйные пиздососы!", "Больно? — выплюнула она член. — Нет... просто... я так никогда не кончу... давай, это... по-нормальному... ", "Очень пердеть любил. Пёрнет, пробубнит что-то и пойдет по деревне. ", "Струя мочи ударила в березовый ствол.", "Подошла к бутылке. Примерилась. Стала садиться влагалищем на бутылку. — Нэ пиздой! Жопой садысь! Пиздой ты на меня работать будэшь!", "Горячая моча струится по ногам."

И правда. Прямо Гоголь.

Это не избранные цитаты, вся книга выглядит именно так. Как вы, наверное, догадались, Сорокин считает, что если на странице нет ни одной отсылки к продуктам жизнедеятельности человека, дерево погибло зря. На худой конец можно добавить жестокости и мата. Но в идеале совмещать.

ПЕРСОНАЖИ

Каждый, кто появляется на странице, получает аутичное описание, как будто сгенерированное очками терминатора:

"Уранов: 30 лет, высокий, узкоплечий, лицо худощавое, умное, бежевый плащ."
"заглянула мать: 43 года, полноватая, каштановые волосы, моложавое лицо, серые лосины, черно-белый свитер."
"пьяно посмотрел из окна водитель: 50 лет, грубое желто-коричневое лицо, кроликовая шапка, серый ватник, сигарета."

Один и тот же чеклист для абсолютно всех, кто появляется в книге - точный возраст, одежда, цвет кожи и волос, форма головы и тела. Как будто это имеет какое-либо значение.

Таких плоских, картонных, безликих и взаимозаменяемых персонажей еще поискать. Полная немощь и убожество в создании людей.

СТРУКТУРА

Первая глава описывает избиение и убийство людей в подвале. Кем, зачем, почему - не понятно. Ведут все себя странно, говорят странно. Полно криков и кроваво-каловых подробностей. Читать страшно и противно, а главное, непонятно, что это и к чему.

Остальные главы первой части (до 54% книги) практически полностью повторяют ее. Другие люди тоже бессмысленно кого-то мутузят и обделываются, неся всякую чушь. Если в первой главе некое замешательство ожидаемо и понятно, то дальше топтаться на месте выглядит неоправданным. Практически полкниги история никуда не двигается, в ней ничего нового.

Вторая часть внезапно переносит нас из современной России во времена второй мировой. Какая-то селючка рассказывает, что она помнит о том времени. Кто она, почему нас должны интересовать ее рассказы про обоссаные вагоны, какое отношение она имеет к первой части книги - непонятно. А потому скучно и все равно.

Ближе к концу наконец-то начинает проясняться завязка и появляться сюжет, но мы быстро совершаем крутое пике в сборник вымышленных отзывов о несуществующем аппарате. Такой вот суровый русский сай-фай. Так что книга, при своей скромной длине, оказалась очень неоднородной и разношестной по темпу и содержанию.

СМЫСЛ

А он был?

Постмодернизм - не для меня.

[Lisa Hayden Espenschade · Rating 2 out of 5]

The only reason I gave "Ice" two stars is that I finished the book... "Ice" chronicles the activity of certain blue-eyed, blond-haired people who search for others that look like themselves. When they find them, they bang on their chests with icy hammers. Some hammerees respond by speaking their “true” names through their hearts; they are rehabilitated. The rest, the “empties,” are left to die.

There are many layers to the book that I won’t detail, lest you, too, get sucked into this slippery mess and want to discover its core. Be ready: "Ice" may max out your capabilities for the willing suspension of disbelief.

Sorokin divides his book into several stylistically dissimilar sections that he links with the ice motif. The first part of "Ice" takes place in contemporary Russia, and the heart hammerers resemble a Russian criminal group. This part of the book is brutal, at least in the Russian original, with so much gratuitous and graphic violence, swearing, sex, and other ickiness that many readers may want to abandon the novel. (A friend did when I lent her the book.)

Why did I keep reading? For one, I wanted to finish the book to get a feel for why Sorokin has caused so much controversy. One lesson learned: Sorokin’s love for writing about bathroom-related topics made it obvious why Putin’s youth group Walking Together (Идущие вместе) used a toilet to collect Sorokin books during a protest.

Still, I have to, grudgingly, give Sorokin some credit: he has a decent sense of timing and knows how to manipulate the reader to finish a book. Just as the violence and abuse in Ice became too much, Sorokin shifted his narrative. By this point, it was too late for me to put the book down because my interest was piqued. Would the book get better? Were the hammerers an Aryan cult? What did the heart have to do with everything? Or anything? Would I send my copy of "Ice" to Moscow for flushing?

I finished and kept it. The book calmed down some but didn’t exactly improve, meaning that, unfortunately, the answers to the other questions are murky. In terms of meaning, "Ice" is as empty as the heartless victims of the hammer, and I won’t consult the other installments of Sorokin’s trilogy for further clarification. Once is enough, thanks.

There's more about "Ice" on my blog: "Vladimir Sorokin's 'Ice Capades'"

[Peter · Rating 3 out of 5]

Russian Writers have a history of using Science Fiction and Mystery to tell allegorical tales of a society deeply troubled. This is a good mordern example, one that vividly leaves the reader mulling and scrounging for reference points and deeper meaning. It is a good read, a stimulating intellectual adventure.

[Елиана Личева · Rating 3 out of 5]

„Лед“, Владимир Сорокин, изд. „Атата-А“, превод Светлана Комогорова, е първата и единствена преведена на български част от трилогията.

Бях чувала доста за творчеството на Сорокин и подходих с интерес към книгата. То често предизвиква противоречиви реакции, което допълнително засили любопитството ми.

Романът разказва за Братството на светлината – група от 23 000 избрани, които пробуждат своите „братя и сестри“ чрез удари с ледени чукове в сърцето.

Романът е разделен на четири части, всяка с различен стил на повествование. Това определено демонстрира прословутото майсторство на Сорокин в смесването на жанрове и техники. Текстът е изключително плътен с образи и дори визуален. На моменти си представях колко добра екранизация би била историята. Диалозите и описанията създават живи и противоречиви образи, макар с някои от тях да прекарваме съвсем кратко време.

Не мога да отрека оригиналната идея и увлекателния стил на автора. Лично мен не ме притесняват нецензурният език и натуралистичните описания, но няма как да не отбележа, че те биха били излишни за някои читатели. За съжаление, макар основната идея на автора да става ясна доста бързо, сюжетът, въпреки динамиката си, остана донякъде кух и недовършен. За себе си не успях да видя брилянтното творчество, което очаквах. Въпреки това, прочетох приличен трилър с елементи на научна фантастика.

В същността си „Лед“ изследва теми като човешката същност, духовното пробуждане и границите на човечността. Сорокин използва фантастични елементи, за да създаде метафора за търсенето на смисъл и идентичност в съвременния свят. Това е произведение, което вероятно би дало повече удовлетворение в контекста на пълната трилогия. Лично аз обаче не смятам да продължа с поредицата, но бих обърнала внимание на други, по-популярни книги от автора.

[Andy Weston · Rating 2 out of 5]

I have really enjoyed other books from Sorokin, but struggled with this.
Its just a bit heavy on the science fiction elements perhaps.
I may return to it at some stage..

[Lori · Rating 2 out of 5]

The dust jacket calls this book "a gritty dispatch," "a gnostic fairy tale," "a hard-boiled parable," "a New Age parody, "a bitingly funny fantasy" and "an important novel."

I suppose it's possible it's all of those things. Or any. And I Just Did Not Get It.

It was weird as all get out, yet I keep reading, thinking the whacking-people-with-ice-hammers-to-find-their-heart-voice-or-kill-them was somehow going to start making sense. Instead, it got more confusing, with the blond-haired, blue-eyed Nazi connection, the 23 rays of light, the meat machines and the space ICE. And don't forget the ritual heart-talk/naked-bodies-pressed-together-but-we're-siblings concept. Or the things that pimp made his whore do.

Maybe it lost something in translation from the original Russian. There were certainly clunky scenes, particularly the ones involving sex. Maybe it did read "His penis was in her vagina" in the original text. Romance writers, fear not.

As if that weren't enough, it changed narration style, going from third to first person and then on to product endorsements (no more kidnapping and whacking with hammers needed; potentials were given ready-made kits to try it themselves in the name of healing).

This may be the first book I've ever read that had a World Literature Today blurb on the back. Clearly, it was capital-I important. And I'm capital-I Ignorant.

Vladimir, give me a call. I apparently need some tutoring in whatever commentary on the world you were trying to share.

[Patrick O'Neil]

Um... not sure what is going on here. But I am lost and not going to continue on - that is all.

[katabaza]

myślałam ze mnie popierdoli jak musiałam w ciągu 20 stron przeczytać dokładny opis jak typ sra i sika.

[David Troch · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wreed. Als in wreed. En als in wreed goed.

[Toby McMillen · Rating 2 out of 5]

Some kind of strange Russian neo-creationist tale of ice-axe wielding fruitarians made of sunlight trying to find each other...
I kept reading only because I thought it was going somewhere...and it was, but 'somewhere' turned out to be 'nowhere'.
The author and the book seem to have been well regarded by some, so I reserve the right to have simply missed the point. But I tell you this, if there was a point, it was well hidden from my puny intellect!

[Ben · Rating 4 out of 5]

The translation could be better, but it still gives readers a good sense of Sorokin's style and dominant themes. A bit of an odd choice to release in English, as it's the first of a trilogy. Still, it stands well on its own, as the story traces the journey of a bizarre cult of 20,000 chosen ones, out to find their brothers by beating people with ice hammers...

[Ghiomara Beov · Rating 3 out of 5]

Había leído my buenas reseñas de este libro y la verdad es que no sé si me gusto o no, es como esos libros que te dejan sin saber si fue malísimo o demasiado bueno, es muy raro, entre mesiánico y material. No se quiero leer otro libro del autor para comprender mejor su pluma.

[Liv · Rating 5 out of 5]

What was this beautifully violent and tender rollercoaster? Absolutely amazing and breathtaking.

[Leif · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting...only the next book will tell me if I have been wasting my time.

I feel, with the various repetitions from the "first" book, the author is at risk of overstating his point.

[Guillermo · Rating 2 out of 5]

Entre mafiosos y adolescentes está pasando algo extraño. Ambos grupos hablan con su jerga de malas palabras y deformaciones que es traducida al “más crudo argot madrileño”. El resultado es insoportable. Pero la acción es incesante. La violencia y el sexo abundan, pero el quid es el suspenso. ¿Qué está pasando? Hay algo parecido a una secta cooptando reclutas. ¿De qué se trata, qué es el hielo, qué es el martillo de hielo con el que golpean a los candidatos? El lector llega a la página 200 sinceramente interesado.
(En ese momento tuve la mala suerte de consultar la contratapa donde se revela lo que en el libro lleva más de la mitad sin siquiera insinuarse. ¿Quién fue el inútil que escribió la contratapa? Cuanta falta de respeto al lector verdadero. Es más, en el primer renglón hay una mentira “Una ola de brutales asesinatos sacude Moscú.” Los de Alfaguara serán buenos vendiendo libros pero que falta de cariño por la verdad.)

La primera parte es un collage variopinto que plantea un misterio. La segunda parte corresponde al relato de una rusa apenas púber en su aldea ocupada por los alemanes durante la segunda guerra. De allí es llevada entre muchos prisioneros y resulta elegida. Entra en la secta, y durante el comunismo trabaja infiltrada en el gobierno. Cual logia masónica la secta persigue sus propios fines. Hasta el fin del comunismo el relato de la guerra y las dictaduras soviéticas, y los manejos de la policía secreta mantienen el interés del lector mientras se descubre la verdad de el hielo. Esta segunda parte sirve explica los misterios de la primera, aunque los personajes inciales no vuelven a aparecer. Pero el misterio resulta bastante absurdo.
En el corto epílogo se va unos años hacia adelante y quizás se cuenta el final del grupo de los elegidos.

Muy buen inicio, muy flojo final.

[Stormie ~ Book Dragon ~ · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have never read a book so bizarre as this. Nothing against the author, but I think something must have gotten lost in translation. I didn't quite understand this whole ice thing and the murders, but still finished the book anyway. The first part was interesting, sort of, even if I didn't understand it fully, the rest of the book I had a hard time understanding. I did get that they were looking for their "heart-mates, and they were blond-hair blue-eyed. The ones that were murdered were called the "empty" or "walking-dead." Then there was the ICE from the meteorite that they used in their ice hammers to beat on the chest to hear the heart talk to them. To me, this sounded a bit violent. I also wonder if they were from another world or were some type of extraterrestrials. This book was published in 2001, so some of the stages that Russia went through with the wars and the name changes of the country were mentioned, but I guess things were left hanging. This is the second book in the trilogy and I read that this should be read first, but I don't know, not sure what else I think about this book.

[Andy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Так как это первая книга трилогии, крайне сложно что-либо написать прямо сейчас. Разве что можно отметить - это похоже на Пелевина (это странно и не комплимент), начало безумно затянуто и чуть-чуть "протухло" с годами. Концовка книги немного выправляет ситуацию, но не спасает книгу от вторичности. Буду читать дальше в любом случае. 

[Rafal Jasinski · Rating 3 out of 5]

Lubię być zaskakiwany, i Sorokin sprawił mi "Lodem" sporą niespodziankę. Dodam, że w gruncie rzeczy pozytywną. Cała środkowa część opowieści, po prostu pochłania i urzeka klimatem, zwłaszcza po - trzeba to powiedzieć - raczej brutalnym, ociekającym wulgarnością i stylistycznie dość prymitywnym, początku. Na szczęście, po połączeniu wszystkich elementów, całość robi niemałe wrażenie, jest spójna i zaostrza apetyt na więcej (a "Lód" jest początkiem trylogii...).

Podsumowując, dobry wstęp do szerszej historii, świetne połączenie zdawałoby się wyświechtanych motywów (teoria wielkiego spisku, infiltracja przez istoty pozaziemskie) z całkiem ciekawym spojrzeniem na historię byłego ZSRR, ze wskazaniem na jego komunistyczne dzieje. Na minus, cóż... otwarte - w najgorszym znaczeniu tego słowa - zakończenie. Zatem, lektura kolejnych części, obowiązkowa.

[Ernst · Rating 5 out of 5]

Habe noch ohne mir anfangs bewusst zu sein, dass es eine Trilogie ist, mit Eis angefangen, war total gepackt und wurde dann vom Finale 23.000 nicht enttäuscht. Bro habe ich erst mit einigem Zeitabstand später gelesen. Bro hat mir auch sehr gut gefallen, wäre aber vielleicht nicht so gewesen wenn ich die anderen beiden Bände nicht schon gekannt hätte. Sorokins Alleinstellungsmerkmal sind Dystopien, die manchmal fast Graphic Novel artig überzeichnet sind, mal düster, dann wieder grellkreischend grotesk, über Grenzen hinausgeleitend.!Spannung und Humor, metaphorisch reichhaltig. Fazit: höchst intelligente Unterhaltung.

[Cenhner Scott · Rating 2 out of 5]

Si este es el primero de una trilogía, yo imagino que la explicación de lo que leí está en los otros dos libros. Este en particular trata sobre la nada. La primera parte cuenta tres veces lo mismo. La segunda parte es un resumen de la historia de Rusia en el siglo XX. La tercera parte es lo mismo que la primera, pero más resumido. La cuarta parte no la entendí.
Le di dos estrellas por eso, porque al ser la primera parte de una trilogía evidentemente hay algo que falta, que no entendí. Pero tampoco me dan ganas de leer los otros dos libros...

[Mark · Rating 3 out of 5]

Yeah, it's perversely inventive and gleefully dystopic, but, like: “Lapin headed for the entrance. He entered. Went up to the second floor. Walked through the empty smoking room. Walked through the open door of the men’s toilet.” I hope he had a little more energy when he wrote the book about the clones of Stalin and Khrushchev getting it on.

[Elise · Rating 3 out of 5]

A creepy look into the cruelty of post-totalitarian Russia. Written in a sparse style that gets more and more disturbing the more you read. Replete with physical torture and glimpses of a heaven forbidden to 99.9% of all people.

But the intriguing if disturbing quirk of the plot, almost genius in a way, is ultimately flat and disappointing. This book needed the tension of a protagonist.

[Morgan Bruyneel · Rating 1 out of 5]

An almost complete waste of time. Though everything but predictable and with a certain appeal in the sequence of the four parts; the story lacked everything from a plot to in depth charachters. I would strongly advise against reading it.

[Mergenc Pater · Rating 3 out of 5]

Tuggya a rosseb.

[Socrate · Rating 3 out of 5]

Clădirea noului depozit al Trustului Regional de Telefonie Mosobltelefon. Un Lincoln-Navigator de teren, albastru-închis. A intrat în interiorul clădirii. S-a oprit. Farurile au luminat desluşit: podea de beton, pereţi din cărămidă, cutii cu transformatoare, bobine de cabluri subterane, un compresor Diesel, saci cu ciment, un butoiaş cu bitum, tărgi hârbuite, trei pungi de lapte goale, deşeuri, mucuri de ţigară, un şobolan mort, două moviliţe de fecale uscate. Gorboveţ s-a opintit în uşi. Le-a împins. Canaturile de oţel s-au îmbucat. Au zdrăngănit. Le-a închis cu ivărul. A scuipat. A pornit spre maşină. Uranov şi Rutman au coborât din maşină. Au deschis portbagajul. Pe podeaua maşinii de teren zăceau doi bărbaţi cu mâinile încătuşate. Cu gurile astupate cu bandă adezivă. S-a apropiat Gorboveţ.
— Lumina se aprinde de undeva de pe-aici.
― Uranov a scos un ghem de sfoară.
— Aşa nu se vede?
― Rutman şi-a scos mănuşile.
— Nu prea.
― Uranov şi-a mijit ochii.
— Dragule, important este să se audă!
― Gorboveţ a zâmbit.
— Acustica e bună aici.
― Uranov şi-a şters obosit obrazul.
― Hai să începem. Au târât prizonierii afară din maşină. I-au dus lângă doi stâlpi de oţel. I-au legat de ei temeinic cu sfoară. I-au înconjurat. Şi-au aţintit în tăcere privirile asupra lor. Farurile îi luminau. Toţi cinci erau blonzi, cu ochi albaştri. Uranov: treizeci de ani, înalt, umeri înguşti, chip uscăţiv, expresie inteligentă, impermeabil bej. Rutman: douăzeci şi unu de ani, statură mijlocie, slăbuţă, piept plat, suplă, palidă, neatrăgătoare, jachetă bleumarin, pantaloni negri din piele

[History Reader · Rating 1 out of 5]

I misread the blurb for this book and thought it was a crime novel, maybe even a police procedural. Skimming down I also saw names like Gogol, Nabokov, and Philip K. Dick. All right! But here's the thing: nearly every sentence Gogol ever wrote was interesting. Almost no sentences in this novel are interesting—unless you're really into dystopian fiction and are looking for some wrinkle you've never encountered before. If so, here’s the book for you. It’s probably the only book ever written about people having to be hit in the chest with axes made of a special ice (that arrived on Earth in a meteorite, I think) to awaken their hearts, which then speak (yes, the hearts have a voice and can speak) their owners' true names. It turns out there are exactly 23,000 of these blond, blue-eyed people out there, most of whom have no idea of their special status. The story revolves around finding them by smashing their chests with those axes. A lot of innocent people, who just happen to look right, get killed in the process. One reviewer called the book a "page-turner." This was true. In fact, I turned some of the pages very quickly without reading them in order to get to the end.

[Frazer · Rating 1 out of 5]

The NYT Book Review did a little feature on Sorokin's 'Queue' which sounded intriguing. Finding it unavailable, I settled for 'Ice'.

Sci-fi mystery 'thriller' about a gnostic cult whose members go around breaking people's chests open with sacred meteoric 'ice' to try to find the chosen 23,000 who can speak with their hearts. It's hardly worth going into the detail here, as I didn't find the fantasty element compelling or particularly coherent.

The writing was bitty and basic, featuring dreams recounted at length but which turned out to be basically irrelevant, and episodes from random people's childhoods. Chest-breaking was also narrated at length surely over 20 times. Once or twice would have been enough to give the reader the idea.

The blurb's comparison with Gogol and Nabokov strains credulity. I see now it's the first in a trilogy so I'm prepared to believe he might redeem himself in the second two. I will not be finding out for myself, however.