As somebody who actually spent the most formative years of my life in Kaunas, there is no way I can rate this book objectively. And so I won’t. What I will do, though, is that I will give a rather longish account as to what expectations this book triggered in me and the mixed success it had in satisfying them.
This time, it’s nothing but personal. I’ll b*tch a bit, but please bear with that.
So a few months ago, a person I hold in high regard and whose taste in crime fiction I usually trust nearly unconditionally, dropped this link. To an interview. With a Canadian – whoah! – Lithuanian-Canadian guy. A Lithuanian-Canadian guy that wrote a book about… Kaunas. The place with streets I could see with my eyes closed shut tight. My city. My… preciousss-ss-s!
This promised… interesting. A full-grown man with his cultural consciousness formed in the West, deep, far West, without a hint of Soviet contagion writes a book about a town-city miles and miles and miles away. In English. A man whose parents lived in the very place itself, saw it built/rebuilt, rising, gaining up momentum and then losing it all just... Because. The world. And RNGesus.
It had to be special, this book. It had to be.
Now. If you’re a Lithuanian for some reason reading this (totally) subjective review, I’ll tell you wha(t). Read. It. In. Lithuanian. Why, you ask? Well, out of utter snobbery, I was like “Well, the guy wrote the book in English, so English it is. Wonder how English works on this very special, very sensitive period in our history.” Well… Turns out it doesn’t. Thing is, the guy knows how to write. Problem is (and I swear I never thought I’d say this)… English is too dry, too impotent, too poor and too bare to account on that period of Kaunas because it lacks the cultural connotations. OUR connotations. And as a Lithuanian, more so, God-forbid, a Lithuanian from Kaunas you’ll feel annoyed by that all the time.
If you’re from elsewhere… Well, never mind. Just scroll down.
Names. Some worked amazingly well. They sounded totally natural (say, Justas Adamonis). Others felt like… well. Chips and fish ('scuse me, Britain). Say, Miss Pinigelis. Cute idea, cute name. But-oh-but – apart from not-so-appropriate (to my mind, in this context of the in-between-war Kaunas (yup, that’s what we call this period: tarpukaris, a.k.a. "in-between-war period")) cultural reference, it does not sound natural. Nor does Stan (likely, for Stanislovas, whom we’d call Stasys (well, Stas). Michael Landa… Uhm… OK? I guess, though could not quite place the ethnicity. Jew? German? Kaunietis? Nor does Freedom Boulevard (arrrrrrgh!). Laisvės alėja, FFS, Laisvės alėja! Laisvės alėja is the soul of my town, loaded with a century and a bit of cultural context. Don’t you dare call it anything else! Even if it makes it clearer to the world, Freedom Boulevard per se is a soulless unnatural construct that should be banned from existence. Period.
At the same time, you get krupnikas, zrazai, krustai, naminė prancing around the text all the time. K. Your book – your rules. But damn, changing dvaras and dvarases for “mansion(s)” wouldn’t do any harm. And I so wanted the in-between-war spirit. That the book be originally written in in-between-war-Lithuanian. Like Dolskis’s songs (check out YouTube "Danielius Dolskis - Elyt, tu meili"). I keep fingers crossed for the translator having done justice to the period and the language of the time.
Never mind. To be honest, Mr Sileika did more than well on other things.
I should compliment the author for doing justice to certain cultural context. The descriptions of Lithuanian foods are detailed and honest (yep, that’s what we eat, especially on Christmas, Easter, birthdays, funerals and a gazillion of other feasts). True to the bone, literally. Well done! So, a piece of advice. Eat before you read this book. Or don’t – you’ll get desperately hungry anyway.
Our cultural habits of welcoming guests, especially, foreign guests… Well. Wooley’s reception scene… Celebrations… Painfully true – must have been the author’s personal experience, or close to it, I suppose. We’re losing it now, though, but only to an extent. So yeah, given the chance, visit an authentic wedding in a country.
The author is also honest geographically, at least as much as I could discern. So if you like this book, please, do come and see all the setting for yourself – Daukanto Street, Donelaičio Street, Laisvės alėja - it’s all there, beautified with some nice extras having popped up during the last century. You won’t be disappointed!
Can’t comment on historical accuracy – that’s way above my competencies. The author seems to have done his homework, or at least worked hard to do it. So… Approved?
Another thing, which, I think, the author captured beautifully is the natural multiculturalism of Kaunas, which we sadly and cruelly lost; probably, once and for all (just a few years ago, prior to an increase in foreign medical students, Kaunas was among the places with the highest percentage Lithuanian ethnicity): "I don't mind speaking a lot of languages. When the Russians were here, I spoke to them in Russian and I spoke to lords and ladies in Polish and I spoke to the Jews in Yiddish, or if they had enough Lithuanian, they spoke to me in my language. Kaunas was like a layer cake that way. Everyone added to the flavour."
Back to crime fiction, then. This book does taste of film noir. More noir than film, though. The setting, at least initially, is bleak to the extreme. And I wonder whether that’s because of how things were in Lithuania after WW1 or… for other reasons. Considering the heavy historical aspect of the book, I was not expecting a twisty-turny-more-action-than-plot thriller. But it wasn’t that engaging either. To be honest, sometimes I had to push myself a bit (“C’mon, it’s about the provisional capital!”) – which is not what should happen with film or book noir. Well. Maybe that’s how the world there was those days? Less crooked, less perverse, less thrilling?
The characters did not fully engage me. Adamonis – don’t know whether because he’s counterintelligence or otherwise – was too detached, too distant, too emotionally uninvolved. Drat, that’s not what I expect from a Lithuanian Bond, goddamn it! Unless played by wooden-faced Craig (sincerest apologies to his fans – not my type). Nor did the forbidden Lily. Remember how I b*tched on Miss Pinigelis? Well, she grew on me. The lovely busy bee. But that’s about it. I liked some minor characters, though – Johny, Pranaitis. I think if they had been more developed, they would have made quite a cool spin-off on their own. Hey-ho for human darkness!
So yeah… How do I rate this? I do not want to downrate, nor do I want to overrate. 3-3.5 stars, I’d say? And, despite all the grumbling, a genuine thanks to Mr Sileika for opening up our cuisine, our city and our tiny lovely country to the world. God knows, Lithuania needs it.
And I'm running off to sing "Elyt, tu meili" and "Onyte, einam su manim pašokti".