Starred reviews from Library Journal and Publishers Weekly
Award-winning author Irina Reyn explores what it means to be a mother in a world where you can't be with your child
Nadia's daily life in south Brooklyn is filled with small indignities: as a senior home attendant, she is always in danger of being fired; as a part-time nanny, she is forced to navigate the demands of her spoiled charge and the preschooler's insecure mother; and as an ethnic Russian, she finds herself feuding with western Ukrainian immigrants who think she is a traitor.
The war back home is always at the forefront of her reality. On television, Vladimir Putin speaks of the "reunification" of Crimea and Russia, the Ukrainian president makes unconvincing promises about a united Ukraine, while American politicians are divided over the fear of immigration. Nadia internalizes notions of "union" all around her, but the one reunion she has been waiting six years for - with her beloved daughter - is being eternally delayed by the Department of Homeland Security. When Nadia finds out that her daughter has lost access to the medicine she needs to survive, she takes matters into her own hands.
Mother Country is Irina Reyn's most emotionally complex, urgent novel yet. It is a story of mothers and daughters and, above all else, resilience.
Irina Reyn is the author of the forthcoming novel MOTHER COUNTRY. She is also the author of THE IMPERIAL WIFE and WHAT HAPPENED TO ANNA K. She loves to hear from readers. Check out her website www.irinareyn.com.
A bit lacking in plot and bogged down by logistics (the kind of thing from which I turn to books to escape), but the writing is beautiful and what it does well, it does really well.
Click here to hear more of my thoughts on this book over on my Booktube channel, abookolive!
Thanks to Netgalley and St. Martin's Press for an egalley in exchange for an honest review.
This mother-daughter story takes readers from Ukraine( 1980's to 2015) to New York (2014-2015) and highlights both the post Soviet impact on the Ukranian population and the ups and downs of being an immigrant. Eastern European politics isn't something that too many people in North America tend to focus on, but what Irina Reyn does very well for readers is illustrating the tensions between Ukranians and Russians. As intense as it sounds, there are lighthearted moments in the story that made me giggle.
Publication Date 26/02/18 Goodreads review 18/02/19
I wanted more from this book than I got. I wanted to know more about Ukraine. I wanted the deep and complex mother-daughter dynamic. I wanted the “morally urgent” storytelling Anthony Marta promised on the cover blurb. I got elements of all those things but this story and these characters never gripped me or moved me in the ways I hoped for.
This is a story about a Ukranian woman who moves to New York and leaves her daughter in the Ukraine. Over the years, she works two jobs and continually tries to bring her daughter to the U.S. During her years in the U.S. she watches and listens for as much news as she can get on the Russia-Ukraine war, while anxiously waiting for calls from her daughter to make sure she is alive and well.
An intriguing story exists about the Russian side of New York, and how the many Russians living there keep with their traditions, continue to shop at Russian food stores, eat their traditional foods and slip back into their own language. Also surprising to me was the prejudice towards Ukranians that came out in the story.
In an emotional, unique and complex writing style, the author pens an engaging story about immigration and what it means to be an immigrant. Most importantly, she gives an account of a woman who escapes the war in her country in order to make a better life for her and her daughter.
I was excited about reading this new book by Irina Reyn, since I loved her last novel...but I was very disappointed. I found it hard to follow and felt it contained too many sub-plots and far too many characters, all with Russian names (often changed by use of diminutives), it became confusing.
There is also an expectation that one has an understanding of the politics within the Russian community and the current situation between Russia and Crimea. I am sad to say that plowing through this was just not a joy, but a real slog.
It started off with a very strong introduction and got me interested. And I held my hopes high for the rest of the story.
This novel is about motherhood, immigration and the struggles a mother faces when being separated from their family members. Nadia, who successfully migrated to US was struggling to not only adapt to her new life in NYC, but was also facing challenges trying to get her daughter over to the US. To earn her living, she worked as a part time nanny to a rambunctious 4 year-old and a carer for an elderly Russian man.
I really wanted to like this story as much as the gorgeous cover, but I just couldn’t. There was very little showing and a lot of telling in the narration. I struggled to even connect to the main character, Nadia, let alone other characters in the story, and there were so many of them.
I personally find there was too much focus on Nadia’s life in NY, and I couldn’t sense her urgency of getting her daughter over to the US. I was also left blinded of her daughter’s life over in Ukraine at the present moment. It would’ve been great to get her POV, her own chapters. There were also times I had a tough time with the transition from past to present.
Regrettably, there wasn’t really anything that pulled me forward in the story, and the ending was pretty much expected.
Thank you Netgalley and St Martin’s Press for a free eARC of this book in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.
*Quotes included here are from an advanced readers copy and are subject to change upon final publication.
3.5 stars. I think this book has a stronger start than finish. The basic subject matter - the immigrant experience and specifically how it relates to Ukraine - was good, but I found the execution to be uneven. Or, maybe I was a little too distracted this week to do it justice.
“Now she understood Rubizhne was sewn inside her. She came from a small city in a country that others have used, divided, abandoned, plundered. The faster she ripped her daughter out of their mother country, the better.”
Fellow readers, I have something to admit: I once again judged a book by it’s cover. When I was browsing NetGalley I came across the artwork for Mother Country by Irina Reyn and was mesmerized by its beauty. After staring at the cover for a few minutes, I decided to read over the blurb, and immediately requested a copy. The story was as beautifully written as the cover looked, but wasn’t exactly my cup of tea.
Let me start off by saying that while this book wasn’t necessarily my favourite, that doesn’t mean it was a bad book. In fact, it was wonderful. However, it’s difficult for me to relate to characters when I have hardly anything in common with them.
This story centers around a woman named Nadezhda (Nadia, for short), a Ukrainian immigrant who left her only daughter to move to the United States. They were supposed to immigrate together, but after waiting years, her daughter, Larisska (also referred to as Larissa), was legally too old to immigrate as a child, and Nadia made the difficult decision to go on without her in hopes of bringing Larisska over soon after settling into her new life.
Mother Country is told in both past and present. It flips back and forth between Nadia’s life in America where she works multiple jobs to support both herself and her family back home, and her past life in war-town Ukraine/Soviet Union (depending on the year). We see the hardships she endured growing up, how she raised her daughter, and how far she pushes herself in order to be reunited with Larisska, regardless of how much time has passed.
At its core, Mother Country is a story about what it means to be a mother: the sacrifices you make for your children, the lengths you will go to do what you think is best for them, and the difficult decisions you must make in order to create a better life for your entire family. The story also touches on themes of immigration, and adjusting to life in a new country and culture.
The backdrop for the story centers around political tension back home in Nadia’s mother country. In 2014, Ukraine’s president fell from power, and Russia stepped in. Military sanctions were put in place, and the Ukrainian territory of Crimea was annexed back to Russia. I briefly remembered hearing about these events when they happened, but found myself Googling more information as I read about it in this book.
I’m not a mother or an immigrant, and I’ve never lived in an area experiencing civil conflict. As a result, I found it difficult to relate to Nadia and her story. However, I appreciated the narrative, and respected the story. While Mother Country is a piece of fiction, its underlying themes are very real, and many people around the world experience them everyday. It provides an insightful look into the experience’s of others, and is important to read and reflect on.
Mother Country will be available on February 26, 2018, and can be bought wherever books are sold. Thank you to the publisher for an electronic copy of this book via NetGalley.
When I first read the synopsis I was interested. However, when I began reading, the story just didn't hold my interest. I'm sure others will find the narrative is for them, but this one is a pass for me. The cover was very colorful and inviting. Thanks to NetGalley for the advance copy.
via my blog: https://bookstalkerblog.wordpress.com/ 'She preferred to think of herself as an observer, a temporary traveler, someone waiting for a new life to begin, rather than who she really was: a worker executing an invisible task within the neighborhood’s complex ecosystem.'
Nadia splits her time as a Nanny to the privileged little girl of a Russian born woman who demands she teach her child Russian, even if she cannot speak it well herself and as a caregiver at VIP Senior Care, tending to the elderly. Often feeling invisible in the eyes of her employers “That she had her own family on the opposite side of the world? That her life was far rounder than the reflection in the woman’s eyes?” she pushes on through her days, biding time until everything she has worked for finally comes to fruition. Relying on Skype, Nadia can keep contact with her beloved daughter Larisska whom she had no choice but to leave behind with her mother in Ukraine, a fractured country that has gone to war. Larisska, feeling abandoned, has her own acts of defiance, barely coming to the video call, refusing to answer her mother about her level of health, to say whether or not she is keeping up with her insulin injections but even that is preferable to the dead silence of unanswered calls and the fear that they could have died, and if they are alive, how will she get her medicine if everything has ceased to function? Then there is no hope as America isn’t granting asylum, everything on hold thanks to Homeland Security.
There was a time when Nadia worked hard as a successful bookkeeper in Ukraine, a diligent employee who caught the eye of the married midlevel manager at their manufacturing company. A place where she was respected, proud to do her work, had her own routines like meeting up with her childhood friend Yulia and their old schoolmates often, then the brief affair (if a moment of bliss and passion can be called an affair) that leaves her pregnant with Larisska. Understanding that he will never leave his wife and children for Nadia and their unborn child, or acknowledge Larisska as his, surely he must know she bore his fruit, Nadia is happy just to be in his charming, handsome presence. She is sure that each extra kindness he gives her is his way of showing he loves her and knows about Larisska. Then changes begin in her country, subtly at first. Storefronts altering signs from Russian to Ukrainian, government documents changing to the Ukrainian language, soon currency being phased out and then, payment at work in mandarins. How is Nadia, a single mother, going to keep her child and mother alive on mandarins?
Her daughter Larisska, ” such an adorably willful little thing,” a neighbor once told her of her newborn was stubborn from the start, refusing even to nurse from her breast. Then, the diabetes diagnoses when Nadia couldn’t possibly afford the insulin. Their only hope is America, but the years pass and when it’s finally Nadia’s turn and her application is approved, there is a flaw in the plan, Larisska at 21 is too old (has aged out) to be approved. Nadia makes the hard decision to go anyway without her girl, leaving Larisska feeling at once betrayed and discarded. To Nadia’s way of thinking, it is the only hope she has of keeping Larisska healthy, her medication supplied and she will get her daughter to America, once she herself is settled in. Larisska thinks they should stay together, it’s too late anyway to move away. Nadia knows America is the land of opportunity, the prize! It is a hard transition, a land with so many different people of many colors, some she had only read about before, and at first, she fears them all but she has no choice but to adapt if she is going to get Larisska there. America, however, has other plans. Applications continuously get declined and Larisska’s life goes on without her. With the fighting between western Ukranians, separatists and Russians her fervent prayers that they leave her homeland aren’t enough to make it happen, soon access to medication stops, and Nadia devises a brilliant plan to save her Larisska after a night out on the town with her friends. With no man in her own life, her thoughts are never focused on her own loneliness, and instead of love for herself, she will find a man for Larisska, in America! Mother knows best, always.
This is a story about mothering when you’re pinned to a wall with threats coming at you in all corners. When you don’t have the luxury of choices and war turns your world upside down, when I love yous aren’t easy to utter because you are just trying to stay afloat, love is obvious in your actions, don’t need to be stated. That sometimes in trying to be your child’s salvation, you may just forget that they too have plans of their own and time doesn’t stand still when you leave. It is terribly missing your ‘Mother Country’ while trying to adapt to your adoptive one, because the country you left never remains the same nor do the people you had to leave behind. It is about sacrifice but will it all be worth it in the end, will Larisska ever make it to America? Will she continue to resent her mother? Will Nadia forever be stuck mothering someone else’s child while her own is sick on another continent in desperate need of her?
I thought this was a wonderful novel, it is not solely about the immigrant experience, it is also about motherhood, and crumbs of love some people delude themselves into accepting, as we see with Nadia and the technolog (the manager who fathers Larisska). Nadia seems to spend much of her life making assumptions about people. She is a woman who really needs to learn to let go, that sometimes you have to just flow with what destiny has in store for you. Not easy when she has had to figure out so much on her own. Yes, read it!
Really good! It flipped back and forth in time a little too easily for me to always catch on, but I liked the way that multiple narratives were being told at once. Deals with issues of nationalism and belonging. Never read a book that features the 2014 Ukranian Revolution, a phenomenon I was really interested in following at the time! There is a constant back and forth of identity, often determined in opposition to other characters. Russian speaking in contrast to Ukrainian speaking Ukrainians. Ukrainian in contrast to Russian. Greenhorn as opposed to settled immigrant. Perpetual immigrant as opposed to US born population. Two Brooklyns, also. Also themes of motherhood, in so many different iterations, are ever present in the work. Definitely worth reading
I won this book as a Goodreads Giveaway. Much appreciated.
3. 5, but not rounding up. Sometimes a 3, sometimes 3.5, sometimes 4. All over the place in terms of interest and appeal. And so too the book moved over time and the Ukraine, US, Russia. Often beautifully written and revelatory. But also boring. I can't quite say which parts I liked best.
I did enjoy Nadia's perspective on being an immigrant/nanny/caregiver in Brooklyn--not the Brooklyn of her young charge, Sasha [and mother Regina--a Russian, but...]. And, the seemingly endless mother/daughter Nadia/Larissa back-and-forth [time, place, frustration, etc] wore on me after a while.
Talk about reading a topical novel in this political time (i.e. Ukraine). To read the description in terms of what it's like living in a war zone and the desire to rescue a child (and be thwarted by Homeland Security). This novel should be read by everyone right now. (Which is why I kept reading aloud passages).
The story of a Ukrainian mother who leaves her adult daughter in her native country to emigrate to New York. She spends all her energy trying to find a way for her daughter, who feels abandoned and betrayed, to join her working as a nanny and caretaker of the elderly. Russia invades Ukraine making matters worse. As an ethnic Russian Ukrainian, who just wants her daughter safe she doesn't fit in with other Russians or other non-Russian Ukrainians and just wants the war over. The book is written well with sympathetic characters and doesn't try too hard to tug the old heartstrings. Nice realism. Thanks to goodreads and the publisher for the book.
Nadezhda (Nadia) is an ethnic Russian who grew up in the countryside of Ukraine. Nadia's daughter, Larissa, is Nadia's baby girl even when she grows up. Nadia can never see her daughter as anything but her baby who she will devote her life to totally and painfully.
Nadia applied for a visa to the USA when Larissa was very young with her sister who had gone to the USA before her as a sponsor. Years go by, and finally, they get called to the US embassy to process their application. As huge disappointments go, the mother and daughter find out that Larissa, as a twenty-one-year-old, cannot go under her mother's appeal. She must apply as an adult which could take another eight or ten years. Nadia is required, on the spot, to decide to go herself and leave Nadia behind. Nadia thinks it will be a shorter wait this time and determines it is best if she goes ahead and settles in with a home and a job for both of them.
Larrisa is furious and storms out of the consulate. The mother-daughter relationship begins to suffer from that moment. Nadia goes to the US and settles in Brooklyn where there are mostly Russian immigrants. Because she speaks Russian with a Ukrainian accent, she is looked down upon, and life is never easy. To survive, Nadia works two part-time jobs as a nanny and a caregiver for the elderly. She is good at both of her roles and saves assiduously so she can send money to buy the insulin Larissa needs. Larissa's health is Nadia's purpose in going on even though she isn't thrilled with her hard and lonely life. Reading about the violence occurring in Ukraine is always on Nadia's mind, and her determination to get Larissa out of there is her only goal in life.
Larissa avoids contact with Nadia, never forgiving her for leaving her behind. Nadia skypes often, but Larissa is always sleeping, busy, or out with a friend. As a mother, I felt the emotional struggle in this story. Nadia has many ideas of how to have a better life in the USA and how to get Larissa there with her. On-line-dating is one of them. You'll have to read this deeply affecting novel to find out how life turns out for this strong Ukranian woman and her even stronger daughter.
I received an advanced copy of this novel from the publisher through NetGalley.
I give this little book four stars because I checked it out at my local public library. Had I bought it, I would have only given it two or three stars. Война и Mиръ it isn't. I don't expect it to stay in print for 150 years, and not simply because the historical events will be out of date. Yes, Russian names take some getting used to, especially if one doesn't understand the bit about how they all have a gazillion diminutive forms. It shouldn't be too abstruse, though. Irina Reyn writes well, and I would certainly be willing to read her other works.
For an American with limited knowledge about Russian and Ukraine, Mother Country has some educational value. I enjoyed delving into post Soviet Russia and emigre culture, and I appreciate the way the author respects the readers' intelligence. I learned everything I ever wanted to know about the Grandfather Frost character and other holiday traditions, and she worked the cultural information in skillfully without ever being pedantic. Then there was the jolly irony about Putin and our 2016 election. No spoilers here; read it yourself.
I believe this book was originally written in English and not translated from the Russian. I can't see my Russian emigre friends or other Russian speakers particularly caring for it. The references to cultural values, such as dating etiquette and parenting practices, and the discussion of anti-Ukrainian prejudices might elicit more nods of understanding--even chuckles-- from people who experienced life in the USSR, but I suspect that like me they might find the story itself disappointing. In terms of character development and exploration of human motives, it left me dissatisfied. There was not a single character to who I could relate. I found Nadia (Nadyezha, Nadyush, etc.) the main character unconvincing and even unlikeable. I couldn't understand why she behaved as she did toward her daughter and toward men. Perhaps it's because the Russian or Ukrainian soul is so foreign to Americans, but I thought the author simply failed to provide her readers with adequate insight into her characters' psyches.
I voluntarily read and reviewed an advanced copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
Nadia's new life as a Russian immigrant in Brooklyn is hard. Juggling two jobs, one as a nanny for a privileged and spoiled family, and one as a senior home attendant, she gets through every day keeping one thing in mind: she has to bring her daughter to the USA.
But it's already been six years since she left her daughter behind in order to secure a better future for her, and things are still looking bleak. With war raging back home and her daughter not having access to medicine for her diabetes, Nadia will have to take radical measures in order to ensure that she can finally reunite with her daughter.
Mother Country is an exceptional novel on the real pain of war and hardships, but also a story of motherly love. Following the story of an immigrant, Reyn's writing is eye opening, educational and definitely moving. Through flashbacks we learn about Nadia's background, as well as her life and bond she shares with her daughter. And, during seeing that perspective, we experience a mother's love and her struggles to do what is best for her child, especially in times of great terror.
This is a novel absolutely worth to read. No matter if you're familiar with this genre, Mother Country is a story that has a lot to offer - as long as you're ready to listen.
The Authors depiction and the way they have informed us of what like in Russia and what life in America is like for them with subservient jobs well displayed in the way written and in the storyline.
There are no myths here and this actually was the way it was, with the complexities of life so many. A mother so devoted to her daughter that has no life at all, and the surprise when the daughter is so modern takes a lot of adjusting to. It was a delight to see the pair of them united and a baby to love giving the women something to live for.
Mother Country has a double meaning. You'll get that if you read the book. But on its face, Mother Country is about an ethnic Russian immigrant to Brooklyn, Nadia. A senior home attendant who's always in danger of being fired, Nadia is also a part-time nanny for a spoiled brat, Sasha.
We soon find out that Nadia has left her diabetic adult daughter Larissa back home in Ukraine. With a war raging (the book came out in 2019, before Russia's most recent invasion of Ukraine). Meanwhile back in Brooklyn, Nadia finds herself feuding with western Ukranian immigrants who think she's a traitor.
Meanwhile again, Putin talks about the "reunification" of Crimea and Russia. But it rings hollow. The Ukranian prez makes promises that are likewise unconvincing. An immigration system that moves with the alacrity of a three-toed sloth doesn't help. Especially when Larissa's last access to insulin disappears.
Talk about potential. I had high hopes for this book. While it has its moments, Mother Country has more fits and starts than a bad summer cold. It can't seem to decide what it wants to be when it grows up. One minute we're rolling our eyes with Nadia at Saint Sasha of Spoiled Rottenville. The next we're yanked back to Nadia's memories of Ukraine from her branch of the Big Apple. Like recalling the shelling of the Donetsk airport in between bites of cheese fondue at a French restaurant in Manhattan.
It kinda goes sideways when Nadia's sister Olga drops a bombshell about her niece's plans. Larissa is peeved over her mom leaving her behind six years ago. Nadia immigrated to America without her daughter cuz Larissa "aged out" of immigrating with mom as a minor. Nadia was to send for her later. But it's been years. And years. So Larissa tells her Aunt Olga she wants to live in Cleveland with Olga when/if she ever gets to America.
Mom Nadia isn't exactly turning cartwheels with the news.
It also has some weird, meandering story arcs. Like when Nadia goes out on a date with Boris, some random dude she met in some dive bar while trying to con another guy into marrying her daughter in order to get Larissa a green card.
But next thing ya know, it's the holidays. So Boris's idea of a date is planting a cheesy white tiara and veil on Nadia's head and dragging her from one New Year's party to the next as "Snegurochka" while he hands out gifts as Ded Moroz. "Dinner" is scarfing down party goodies at every stop. About the best thing you can say about that ridiculous, disjointed and clunky scene is that it's ridiculous, disjointed and clunky. Kinda like the rest of this book.
And to think I could've been watching Agent 99 get the drop on KAOS. Or Barney Fife busting a jay-walking ring in Mayberry.
On the other hand, the writing is good and offers an in-depth, 'outside the box' look at 'motherhood' from a variety of viewpoints both chronologically and culturally. It also offers a close look at different types of mother-daughter relationships and the ties that bind and sometimes break.
The author skillfully draws you into Nadia's dual worlds as she struggles to navigate both her present life in New York and past memories in Ukraine. All this while trying to bring her estranged daughter to the States.
Unfortunately, the story runs out before the pages do. The author bypasses several choice opportunities to the wrap up the book and bow out. The result is an overlong, tedious read that looks like the Energizer Bunny: It just keeps going and going and going. Until we just don't care anymore. Yawn.
Originally, my brother introduced this novel to our family book club with the rationale that “Many of our Russian ancestors were actually from Ukraine, so it would be nice for us to learn more about Ukrainian culture especially due to the present-day conflict.” Needless to say, I was not immediately sold; however, Irina Reyn was masterful in her ability to bring an American reader into the difficult and life-changing decisions of immigrants from Ukraine. The novel is all over the place chronologically, which was difficult to follow at first, however, with clear dates and locations for each chapter, along with integrated characters and events, by the third chapter, the purpose was clear and worthwhile. We start out meeting Nadia, the protagonist, in her job as a nanny which is a consistent juxtaposition throughout the entire novel with her caring for Sasha, the daughter of a Russian-American mother, Regina. Nadia’s stream of consciousness and constant comparison of American culture to her Ukrainian roots set us up for her gradual story of why she left her own daughter, Larisska, to emigrate over to the U.S. As the novel unfolds, we go back in time to Larisska’s childhood, her dealings with diabetes, adolescence, and romance, and as the reader, the conflict of whether or not Nadia should have left her behind builds and builds. From Nadia’s perspective, her own leaving and immigration will be the only way to eventually get her daughter over to the U.S. On top of that we learn Larisska was conceived with Nadia’s boss at a factory, the “technolog”- Nadia’s first boss - an absent father figure Larisska comes to know more once her mother leaves. The inevitable question through all of the chronological hoop-jumping is if Larisska will ever be reunited with her mother in the U.S. Although the reader has a fair answer to that question throughout most of the novel, Reyn depicts just how complex and heart-wrenching one immigrant’s intentions to do the moral thing for her family’s own good can lead to a journey of self-doubt, loneliness, and fear, Reyn’s writing style, diction, and description were all splendid, however, it would have been nice to have more time dedicated to building the urgency of Larisska’s need to leave Ukraine. The intermittent Skype sessions (or lack thereof) set this up to a certain extent, but never did the reader truly fear for Larisska’s life. Ultimately, Reyn gets the benefit of the doubt on the lack of violence and terror to heighten that sense of urgency since Mother Country was written two years before Russia invaded Ukraine February of 2022. Thinking back on my Russian elders who have passed away, this novel was highly nostalgic in reinforcing tradition, culture, and ways of interpersonal communication which still hold strong today. Although a reader without such cultural background may not connect as much, the novel still has merit for the immigrant journey through the lens of a mother just trying to do the right thing from her heart.
I won a copy of Mother Country from the publisher, Dunne / St. Martin's Press and the author, Irina Reyn. A huge thank you to them!
Nadia isn't living her best life in South Brooklyn as she tries to keep from being fired from her job as a senior home attendant and also navigating the emotional demands of a spoiled preschooler, and her equally emotional mother. Nadia also tries to avoid feuding with the Western Ukrainian immigrants, who believe she is a traitor to her home country. Separated from her diabetic daughter Larissa, who she left, the war raging back home is on her mind constantly. Nadia is desperate to reunite them .
Mother Country it was disappointing. It sounded like it had the potential to be a moving story about immigration and the love a real mother and daughter. This seems like a hollow shell of everything it could have been.
Set in both Ukraine during mainly the 1980s and 2015, and New York City in 2015, this was difficult to follow as the writing felt very disjointed. Sometimes it seemed difficult to remember what storyline was which even though the chapters let you know what time period they were set in. There was also a lot going on in the story. Between very in-depth scenes at both of her jobs and her personal life it was brimming with colorful stories that should have been filled with warmth and lots of emotion. However it came off as too much. It was hard to feel connected to any of the characters. The 1980s Ukrainian storyline was far more interesting then the present day New York storyline.
Not knowing a lot about Russian war, politics, or history did not serve well here. A basic knowledge of that would have made this story a lot more accessible.
One thing Irina Reyn did exceptionally was to paint a picture of the Russian culture and how vividly vibrant it still is in New York City. The descriptions of all the holiday traditions made the books world very real.
Nadia was hard to like as she felt flat, dismal, and annoying. She also seemed to be very cruel when they were living in the 1980s. Although she is desperate , the ways she goes about to try to get Larissa to be able to come to the United States were pretty deplorable. It seemed like getting Larissa to United States was her only priority and not her daughter's happiness.
There is tension and lots of emotion, but only in the relationship between Nadia and Larissa.
The ending just felt like the rest of the book - bland and predictable.
Mother Country left me wanting so much more for the story.
I received a copy of MOTHER COUNTRY in exchange for an honest & original review. Thanks to NetGalley & Thomas Dunne Books for the chance to read this book.)
In the mess that is our world, it's easy for things to get lost. It's easier still to think we are informed enough about all things to offer opinions and make assumptions. And it's easiest yet to make assumptions that amount to saying "these two things are similar, therefore they are the same."
We do ourselves a great disservice when do that.
And in MOTHER COUNTRY, Irina Reyn reminds her readers of that.
It is the story of Nadia, who left Ukraine in search of a better life for herself and her daughter. But because nothing sucks the life out of hope as fast as bureaucracy, her daughter is left behind for years while Nadia works as a nanny and an elder care aide in Brooklyn, always trying to be reunited with her now adult daughter.
Nadia didn't fit in quite right in Ukraine and she doesn't fit in at all in America. The Russians don't trust her and the Ukrainians judge each other. And she judges them all. No one is ever quite close enough to really know or trust each other. And she ends up not even knowing her daughter well.
The deep value of this story is in the things it breaks down, the way it reminds the reader that you can read articles about the war in Ukraine, the life of immigrants in America, until the proverbial cows come home but you will never know everything. And assumptions made from pretending to know just enough to share your opinions and 'knowledge' leads to nothing but misunderstanding and intolerance.
I wish there had been more to the story, not necessarily a happily ever after (because those are unicorns in pots of gold at the ends of rainbows) but something more... substantial. To put it simply, I would have read more about Nadia and Larissa and their lives, separate and together.
I enjoyed Irina Reyn's writing style as well as this particular novel's subject matter. As the wife of a Ukrainian immigrant with a Jewish, Ukrainian stepfather, I have heard stories of how those of the Jewish faith were treated as less than in Soviet ruled Ukraine. My husband immigrated when he was eight and his mother, sister, and grandmother still live in Brooklyn to this day. His father, two brothers, and stepmother, however, only immigrated about 7 years ago to the States. We had a very similar situation of waiting for his youngest brother's wife having to wait 3 years to be able to join him here in the US, even though they had been dating prior to his brother's immigration. It was interesting to read about many of the same struggles my husband's family faced, and still face being immigrants to a country which they love and appreciate, but can sometimes be so foreign to them though they have been here for years. With the current war, it has been difficult having family in both Russia and Ukraine. At times, it has turned our family against one another and we have had to remind each other that we are family, a bond borders can't change, though those of us from the States & Ukraine strongly believe & support an independent Ukraine. It has been interesting for me to see my husband who grew up speaking Russian and then English learn Ukrainian to speak to his dad, stepmother, and brothers, who speak both fluent Russian and Ukrainian, but choose not to speak Russian any longer due to their national identity. While he still speaks Russian to his grandmothers who grew up in Soviet ruled Ukraine and only speak Russian and to his mother who can speak English, but is most comfortable in Russian as she too grew up speaking it most of her life in Ukraine.
Overall, I would give this novel a 4.5 out of 5 if I could give half stars. It was a quick read which I think mothers & grown children can both appreciate.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I didn’t love this book, but I’m glad I read it, if that makes sense.
It’s set in the early days of the Russia/Ukraine war, several years prior to the full-scale Russian invasion of 2022. Nadia, an ethnic Russian, has fled Ukraine in the hopes of finding a better life in the US. She and her daughter had been on the immigration list for years; when their number is finally called, they find out that Nadia’s daughter has *just* aged out of the system (like by a few days) and is thus unable to join her.
Nadia faces an unimaginable decision: does she stay and give up all hope of any member of her family (which also includes her mother) ever making it to the US? Or does she take a chance by going solo, hoping to one day bring her daughter over to join her?
She chooses the latter, and the story that follows tells her tale of trying to start life anew as an immigrant alone in a foreign land. She settles in Brooklyn and works as a nanny and an elder care attendant, all the while trying desperately to keep in touch with her daughter as communications become increasingly more difficult. Added to her worries is the fact that her daughter is diabetic, and insulin is becoming harder and harder to find.
Going back to my first point, the reason why I’m glad that I read this book is because it gives a really good insight into the experience of a Ukrainian immigrant of Russian descent trying to assimilate into a culture that isn’t always welcoming (in addition to typical immigrant prejudices, she’s also ostracized from the Ukrainian community in Brooklyn, who sees her as a traitor to her own country). It’s particularly relevant given the current situation in Ukraine.
The writing isn’t particularly engaging, and there are a lot of jumps between time and place that are hard to follow at times, but this is an important book that should be required reading for the tired “why don’t all immigrants just come here legally” narrative.
First of all, can we just appreciate the beauty of the cover design?? Even if I wasn't interested in the theme of the book (I WAS), the cover alone would've compelled me to pick up the book, walk around B&N for 20 minutes, hoping to appear more intelligent and sophisticated by association. (Yes. People DO judge books by covers. And they judge readers by their books' covers. I'm not even joking.)
Okay, on to the actual story.... You can read the blurb, I'm certain, so I won't rehash it. And if you're disinclined to read it yourself, you've probably quit this review already anyway.
The book went back and forth between the past and present, which worked nicely at first, when the daughter was much younger, but got really messy toward the end. That probably lost a star for me here. I was interested in the relationships, the progression of events, the tension of "with this ever work???", but when I had to re-re-read to figure out where in time I was, I lost the urgency.
I really related to the mother/daughter conflict and unrelenting loyalty, the push away and pull back. I can't imagine doing that with an ocean between.
Oh! And I learned a lot about the Ukraine, its culture and history! I didn't know or pay attention to the whole conflict when it was introduced to me in high school....in Current Events class. Thanks to Mother Country, I'm looking into other books about the Ukraine.
This book was a little deeper toward the end than I had anticipated. And the author included a couple incidents that I didn't understand or think were necessary....kind of for shock value?.... I don't know.
Overall, I'm glad I signed up for and read this Goodreads giveaway! Just because I didn't enjoy the ending does not mean that I would not recommend the book. I would. (Not just because it looks cool on my bookshelf.) :)
The cost of leaving The cost of staying. Love, compassion, duty, guilt. Relatively typical concerns for the modern novel of immigration. But what sets this story apart is how it’s interwoven with the 2014 separatist rebellion in the Donbas. I have a deeper appreciation of the depth of the conflict there and a bit of empathy for the each of the factions; note this is the local conflict, pre the Russian invasion of 2022.
We meet our protagonist Nadia in New York, a legal immigrant after 13 years of waiting for a visa. A former accountant, she’s working two home care jobs and trying to send insulin home to her diabetic young adult daughter Larissa, from whom a quirk of US immigration law has forced a separation. She lives for their reunification. Her last, difficult moments with Larissa (and Larissa’s emergent adulthood) plague her; the separation diminishes every other relationship she forces herself to pursue. On the other hand, she is one person buffeted by great events. Nadia’s complicated relationship with her daughter is reflected in the complicated situation of the war. Nadia and Larissa are native Russians, made citizens of Ukraine by the 1991 agreement, an outcome deeply resented by many. By the time the war finally breaks out in 2014, “there is no warmth even among family. We are all divided east or west.” Through the skillful use of flashbacks Reyn gives us key moments in Nadia and Larissa’s life, always cast against the background of conflict, suspicion and ethnic hatred. Nadia is an empathetic and well-realized character who follows a reasonable, authentic path to the resolution of the tensions of her life. Yet it’s the interweaving of the war and the empathy for it's victims that truly elevates this novel. A good read.