We Need to Talk About Kevin meets Goodnight Mommy in this outrageous modern family thriller.
Emma and Gregory have a perfect life—a gorgeous home, a successful design firm—except for their inability to start a family. Following a traumatic failed pregnancy, they decide to travel to Russia to adopt a pair of twin boys. From the moment they board the plane in St. Petersburg, the twins begin to demonstrate perverse behaviour that grows increasingly ominous, driving a wedge between Emma and Gregory, and alienating their friends and family. The two brothers show worrying signs of lack of empathy, and seem to leave behind a trail of disturbing incidents, and rumours persist as the boys grow into teenagers—even as Emma continues to cling to her dream of the perfect family. A dark, violent, and tense novel, Daniil and Vanya shows the bond between parent and child gone horribly awry.
It’s a familiar story in the North American psyche, a culture of people who are perhaps too eager to adopt, snatching up the first child that becomes available, putting full trust in their adoption agency with reckless blindness towards the traumatic and toxic conditions of those unregulated orphanages: a bright-eyed couple adopts a child from Russia only to find that they suffer from reactive attachment disorder (read: a childhood-trauma-induced lack of empathy that exhibits similarly to sociopathy).
In this case of Toronto-based French-Canadians Emma and Gregory, their twins Daniil and Vanya, adopted from Russia at 15 months old, quickly exhibit signs that something isn’t quite right. In their desperation to build a happy family following the traumatic loss of a pregnancy, the couple attributes the twins oddities to the jarring shift in culture and to their sudden, ill-prepared thrust into parenthood.
Through a fast-paced 256 pages, readers experience Emma’s desperation, loneliness, and inevitable self-blame punctuated with brief, but oddly placed, narratives from a pubescent Daniil and Vanya that are eerily narrated from a first-person-plural perspective: “Our voice is sharp, with ridiculous accents. We’ve always hated it.” Their morphed voice further emphasizes to what extent the boys have cultivated an obsessive brotherly identity that shuns not only their parents but also their peers.
Though the writing is largely clunky and peppered with artificial dialogue (perhaps the result of an unsatisfactory translation), its daring venture into vulgarity and the impermissible topics of sadistic and sexual violence of minors urges the plot forward in an eager search for resolution and retribution. While the abrupt ending may not provide the closure sought (it certainly didn’t in my case), it did raise critical questions regarding the social responsibility of adoptive parents and the lasting, interpersonal effects of childhood trauma.
Daniil and Vanya is a book that can be read quickly, that has high shock value, and that will keep you thinking for a couple of days in its wake, but it’s far from life-changing and all too forgettable.
Thank you to NetGalley and Invisible Publishing for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Emma and Gregory, an affluent middle-class couple, decide to adopt after Emma’s own pregnancy ends in tragedy. Through an international adoption agency they are offered twin boys from Russia and set off in some trepidation, but also in hope for a happy family future together, to collect the babies. But this is no happy-ever-after fairy tale adoption. Right from the outset it is obvious something is not quite right about the boys and a sense of dread and horror builds as the narrative progresses. A psychological thriller and a searing exploration of parenthood and child-rearing, I was gripped throughout and found the book convincing and very frightening. A great read.
Un roman efficace, qui se lit d'une traite. La tension dramatique aurait pu être plus appuyée, puisque l'histoire le permettait mais il s'agit somme toute d'un livre bien fait et qui mérite d'être lu.
Hoo boy, this book is tough. It’s a difficult story, disturbing on many levels, but compulsively readable at the same time. There are, thankfully, trigger warnings at the beginning, (they call them ‘content notes’), so I’ll reiterate that before my readers go any further. Daniil & Vanya by Marie-Helene Larochelle, translated from the French by Michelle Winters includes references to miscarriage, self-harm, violence against and by children, and sexual abuse. It asks the question, what makes a monster? What do we consider monstrous? What is destiny, and what is by-design? Because I’m a parent, I think I found this book extra upsetting, and perhaps people who chose to remain childless wouldn’t be as bothered by the plot, but most, regardless of their family situation will find this extremely challenging, that I’m sure of. It really made me question why I read, if not for pleasure? I wanted to read this book because despite its dark subject, it has been reviewed positively, and I don’t always read for fun, sometimes I read to gain a new perspective. This book definitely offered that.
Plot Summary
Emma and her husband Gregory lose their first child in a difficult stillbirth, and traumatized from that experience Emma vows to never get pregnant again. Instead, they adopt two twin boys from Russia, and are elated to bring them home to Canada and incorporate them into their stylish, design-driven life. But the boys they bring home don’t match what was recorded in the adoption file, and frantic with the stress of motherhood, Emma isolates herself and the boys in attempts to normalize their behaviour. A strange sense of detachment surrounds Daniil and Vanya, and their ability to quickly become violent frightens those who attempt to befriend them. Unfortunately Gregory and Emma are as naive as they are stubborn, and don’t seek professional help even when others urge them too. We follow the boys as they become teenagers, obsessed with physical perfection and their changing bodies. There is no happy ending in this book, but I doubt anyone will accuse me of spoilers; how could there possibly a happy ending to this?
My Thoughts
As you would expect, this book is all about the characters. The plot is driven by their actions, or in this case, inaction, and even though the twins are the center of attention, Emma and Gregory are also expertly drawn, coming alive on the page. It’s not a long book, but it doesn’t need to be, I was so fed up with Emma and Greg that I didn’t want to spend anymore time with them. I was desperate for them to see their own responsibility in what transpires, that perhaps attempting to serve only organic food to their children wasn’t really what these boys needed, but of course that never happens. This novel doesn’t point blame in one direction, but instead, depicts each person’s actions coming together to form a perfect storm of anger, resentment and violence. Greg and Emma’s privilege and wealth insulate them from outside interference, even when it’s clear their family needs help. Social safety-nets in Canada are typically activated when specifically requested by a family member or social worker, so why bother focusing on the families that clearly want for nothing? We assume that a neat and appealing appearance is a reflection of what’s on the inside, but what if the only thing keeping a family together is the effort in keeping up that appearance?
I didn’t expect to love this book, and I honestly can’t say I liked it because it made me so uncomfortable. Still, I am in awe of this book, of its power to agitate and affect me so deeply, it’s been over two weeks since I finished it, but I can’t forget about it. Truth be told, I sort of want it out of my house, but there’s no one I can responsibly give it too without fear of upsetting them. Still, there is value in this kind of literature, it’s important that we read about all sorts of things, not just the stuff that’s pleasant. This is life. This book is realistic, which is what makes it all the more painful to read.
There’s a scene towards the beginning of the book, when Gregory and Emma are in Russia heading to the adoption agency, and they come across a young boy living on the streets, sniffing glue and getting high; they estimate his age to be about 10, Emma comments on the fact that his hands still have that small-child chubbiness to them. That moment is so striking because it places a young vulnerable child in an adult position and role, which is simply foreshadowing of what’s to come. Still, it has stayed with me because I know that children in these poor countries are faced with that and much worse, and as a parent in a first world country, it’s extremely difficult to come to terms with.
You can probably tell how seriously I’m taking this book just by all the introspective questions I’m asking in this review. This fictional story opened my mind to so many different avenues, and for that reason alone I want to recommend it to others. It’s certainly reader beware however, so read the content warnings closely before you commit.
Daniil and Vanya was fine. In what seems to be a common trope (Orphan, the Omen, the bad book I read a few years ago, the real life Orphan Natalia Barnett), Toronto couple Emma and Gregory decide to adopt twins from a Russian orphanage and pretty much from the moment they leave the orphanage, the twins bring increasingly more troubling and disturbing situations to the family, leading to a strain in the marriage and a growing sense of paranoia in Emma. When I say disturbing, I really mean it: some pretty explicit descriptions of a loss of a pregnancy, some scenes of self-harm, and when it comes to the twins, it starts small, with strange comments from the twins in their childhood, but progresses to some terrible and descriptive acts of torture and underage sex acts... yeah, it gets pretty bad! As I mentioned, this book was fine, but the writing and dialogue seemed wooden and clunky, perhaps due to the translation. The synopsis touts this as a combo of We Need to Talk About Kevin and Goodnight Mommy, but I’d recommend just reading/watching either of those instead. I did like this but there wasn’t much depth here. Also Emma was obsessed with mentioning the brand names or her clothes, household items, strollers... not sure what the point of this was but I assume there was one!
Well that was interesting. I found myself - oddly - compelled to keep reading this, finishing it in little more than a single sitting (curled up in front of the fire as the snow fell thickly most of the day).
Despite the fact that it was all too predictable, and employed a number of common tropes, I found myself sucked in and needing to find out what happened next, keeping on hoping that it wouldn’t go where I was expecting it to. Which, inevitably, it always did… The sections, in the second half, narrated by the children themselves, are chilling.
What will be interesting is whether or not this book sticks with me over the next few days, and whether or not my dissatisfaction with the ending settles into something approaching grudging acceptance - or a firm belief - that the author was right to end it as she did.
This is a dark and deeply disturbing unravelling of the idea of family, and will not be to the taste of all by any stretch. But it is a compelling read… And it’s a debut novel… I will definitely be watching for more by this author.
After a brief hiatus of reading fiction, Daniil and Vanya was an exciting return for me. Just the right amount of dark. Just the right amount of build up, followed by abrupt revelations of shocking truths, some small and some large. The pace is perfect.
Emma's anxiety felt relatable, I was hypersensitive to the events she experienced and witnessed in the book. And the two boys...tense, creepy.. unforgiving.
I also enjoyed the geographical elements, Toronto as the setting, with visits from Russia and Quebec in the narrative.
I liked the bite-sized little chapters and how digestible each segment felt. I could breathe throughout the story if that makes sense. Made it easy to stop and pick back up on the bus, though I still devoured the book in one weekend.
As for the reviews comparing it to other adoption stories...i wouldn't take them to heart. This book is absolutely individual. This book is a real treat for anyone who enjoys feeling a little disturbed; Marie-Helene definitely got under my skin but she didn't overdo it either.
Daniil and Vanya is a tail of unrequited love that is mundane, yet foreboding, visceral and violent. Marie-Helene Larochelle traps readers in the house with Emma and Greg as they cope with the anti-social tendencies of their adopted sons. Efforts to socialize Daniil and Vanya are futile, and their behavior is often explained away or outright dismissed as Greg and Emma attempt to salvage the dream of parenthood. Beyond the tension generated by the boys, themes such as imbalanced parental obligations, career compromises, denial and a withering marriage are scattered throughout the text. The sudden shifts in perspective from Emma to Daniil.. or is it Vanya (?) is the stuff of nightmares. That said,the pace is uneven and the ending felt rushed. The opening chapters are stagnant and tell us little about Emma. This would have helped the reader sympathize with the horror she would come to experience. Overall, this is a intense domestic tale worth considering.
Dark and creepy this book will bury into your brain, borderline on the horror genre. A Canadian couple who have suffered a loss adopt two 15 month old Russian twins from a less than above board adoption agency. From the beginning there are jarring tones in here, from a description of the couple's sex life that seems irrelevant and strange, to a child taking drugs in an alley way. Emma seems to have a lot of her own issues while trying to become her definition of the ideal Mum. The twins are strange from the beginning. There are unexplained incidents that could be coincidence or linked to them. The second half of the book the twins get a voice, and speak as one person. Sexual assault against children takes up a lot of this section. Ultimately rotten and unsettling. Not recommended if you are hoping to adopt or in that process.
Thank you to the publisher for this advanced reading copy. This book has a very interesting premise. French Canadians Emma and Gregory go to Russia to adopt twin baby boys from an orphanage and take them back to Toronto to live. From the moment this book started I knew that it would pack a punch as it was a short novel that was about a very sensitive subject (international adoption).
I read this book in a day as I was compelled to keep going to find out what was going to happening next in these characters lives. I found some of the scenes made me really uneasy and sometimes I wanted more explanation rather then to be rushed through. I do have to say that the ending was quite good and the book has me guessing throughout.
Disturbing story. Plays upon the trope of the damaged Russian adoptee, but accurately frames the story in the aftermath of a failed pregnancy and the urge to "start a family". You kind of know where this is going from the get-go, and in some ways the story skips ahead after dragging through the infant years. It is told chronologically, and the scenes play out like you are in a psychology lab looking through a one-way glass. Adoptive parents will recognize themselves at various moments. The end is a horror show.
Wow. That was an extremely disturbing read. I feel like it would be wrong to say that I enjoyed it. Is there a word for when you devour a book but it’s not pleasurable? It was unsettling but hard to put down.
I do think some things were likely lost in translation given there were a few confusing sentences and typos so it probably would be better in the original French edition.
I’m also biased to enjoy a book in which I recognize locations and it was neat to know exactly what cafe/bookstore the protagonist visited in Pictor.
This one had a super compelling start and great writing style - to the point where I was saying stuff like "I've finally broken my streak of mediocre books!" aloud - but alas.
It's hard to review this fairly short novel without spoilers, but I will say this: the author set herself up to tell either a heartbreaking story about dynamic family relationships OR the kind of campy thriller you don't want to stop reading - and somehow landed underwhelmingly in the middle.
Fascinating. Simply written, often gruesome and gritty, this thriller will grip you not by your fears but by your feelings. A new path for a mother, a new world for her boys (titular Daniil and Vanya), and a complex and surprisingly understated take on the “nature versus nurture” genre. Particularly enjoyable if familiar with Toronto and Québécoise culture and customs.
Wow - this book had some serious potential, but it felt squandered by a clunky translation and an overall sense that the author was trying to rush to "shock" points. Not for me.
Thank you to NetGalley and Invisible Publishing for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Cette histoire de jumeaux adoptés est très troublante. Elle m’a habitée longtemps. L’auteur nous laisse plein de questions et surtout plein de réflexions. Qu’aurions nous fait comme parents?
I picked this up because I love this shade of periwinkle so much but I’m glad I didn’t buy it because I don’t want this in my home!
It has an interesting premise— a couple adopts twins from Russia that turn out to be evil. This could go one of two ways, either a meditation on parenting violent children like We Need To Talk About Kevin or camp horror movie style like the Orphan. I could’ve accepted either or a blend, I’ve been reading a lot of books about having kids and the various downsides to different methods of building a family. But things would happen just for shock value and it started to become silly, but it was still trying to be serious so the shocking bits didn’t come off as campy.
Emma has a realization when the babies are young that because they are always looking at the other one, they think that they ARE the other. I’m no expert on child development, but I think that for several months the baby does not realize that the mother is a separate entity. It takes a long time to develop a sense of self. It makes sense that the twins, who didn’t have a mother during a critical period of development, would have their wires crossed. It reminded me of a riddle I heard as a kid: two sisters are looking at each other. One has a dirty face and one has a clean face. The one with the clean face washes her face. Why does she do it? The answer is that they are twins so when they look at each other the other’s face serves as a reflection, so she assumes that if the twin’s face is dirty her own face is dirty. The boys each see the other twin as their own self.
The twins get some perspective chapters and they are written using “we” pronouns because they behave as one entity. This was pretty cool actually. It becomes clear that there is more discord between the brothers than we are initially led to believe, which is interesting to figure out because it is not delineated which twin is speaking/thinking. This unraveling could have been very interesting as we see their sense of self fracture, but it just didn’t work. Eventually we discover that they are not even twins at all, the adoption agency lied!
The book is justifiably critical of the adoption industry. The boys come home experiencing alcohol withdrawal and it’s clear the orphanage was using alcohol to subdue the children. The agency is no help when they ask about this. It’s also critical of those who choose international adoption. Emma wants to exotify Russia and she constantly expresses disappointment when things are similar to her life in Toronto. She expected it to be cold and dismal in Moscow and is surprised to find the weather is nicer there than when they left Toronto. She’s disappointed that their trolley cars look the same as at home, and that the people on the train platform are just regular people. I wonder what she expected to find, some exotic otherworld? To save the children?
In the end, Gregory and Emma give the twins up to foster care. It’s like they’re returning them to the store. I thought of that one youtube couple who returned their adopted autistic son. Of course, simplifying it like that is extremely unfair to Gregory and Emma. I'm not sure what most people would do if they had children as violent as Daniil and Vanya. There is obviously not enough support for parents of children who need extreme amounts of help. But this book doesn’t feel like a meaningful exploration of that difficult situation, it’s just a horror premise set up but it’s not well executed.
This concept has so much to explore. The ethics of adopting, the formation of identity. I just don’t think I've ever read anything that reads as awkwardly as this, both on a sentence level and the pacing overall. The shocking moments were ineffective. Why was there no consequence when Gregory slapped the toddler while Dwell magazine was doing a photoshoot? The name brand dropping was strange too, I get that they are upper middle class without that. The writing is stilted and odd and the dialogue is not believable. It could be a translation issue, because it sounds like the output of google translate instead of real sentences. Even so, the plot pacing is very uneven and I don’t think a different translator could’ve salvaged it. Disappointing.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Dans ce premier roman de Marie-Hélène Larochelle, Danill et Vanya, j’ai été surprise de la façon dont je me suis vue devenir complètement fascinée par cette histoire qui semblait toute simple au départ. Sans toutefois être un thriller psychologique, ce roman nous entraîne tout de même dans une quête qui côtoie meurtre, mensonge, agression sexuelle et identité.
La prémisse semble fort simple : un couple très amoureux, Emma et Gregory, perdent leur enfant et décident de se tourner vers l’adoption internationale, c’est ainsi qu’ils deviennent les parents adoptifs de deux jumeaux, Danill et Vanya. Les premiers temps avec les bébés sont difficiles, ils semblent vivre avec des problèmes liés à une dépendance à l’alcool, alors d’emblée on ne trouve rien de douteux ou de louche avec les bébés qui sont distants, froids et incroyablement près l’un de l’autre.
C’est au fil des pages qu’on y découvre une famille, qui semble parfaite de l’extérieur, mais qui est pourtant plongée dans des rapports froids et dépourvus de chaleur. Les jumeaux, cette entité, ne semble pas s’attacher à leurs parents et réagissent de façon fort violente et agressive… On en vient à se questionner, ont-ils des problèmes plus sérieux? Ces deux garçons ne font qu’un, ils ne sont qu’une entité, un ensemble, qui n’a besoin de personne. Ils se suffisent à eux-mêmes et ne se lient d’amitié avec personne d’autre, pas même avec leurs parents dévoués. Ils sont fermés sur tout ce qui les entoure, mais ouverts sur leur bulle commune, ce monde qui leur appartient, ce monde où eux seuls parlent le même langage.
Les deux font la paire
Malheureusement, on ne s’attache que très peu à ces garçons qui frôlent la folie. Plus l’histoire avance, plus on découvre leur côté sordide, noir et incroyablement dérangeant. On en devient dégoûté par ces deux jeunes hommes et on ne comprend pas comment ils ont su dégringoler ainsi.
C’est plutôt, à leur mère, Emma qu’on s’attache, mais souvent plus parce qu’on a pitié de cette femme prête à tout pour ses fils, qui se retrouve toujours mise à l’écart. J’ai trouvé dommage de voir cette femme douter de ses capacités parentales, de l’amour de ses enfants, de son rôle dans leur éducation. Emma a quitté sa vie professionnelle où elle était designer pour s’occuper de ses fils, mais on sent qu’elle ne s’épanouit pas entièrement dans ce rôle, parce que les jumeaux ne la laissent tout simplement pas les approcher.
Amoureuse du beau, du griffé, du design, Emma peut nous sembler superficielle, tout comme son mari Gregory qui devient complètement obsédé par la visite du magazine Dweel dans leur demeure digne des magazines de design. J’ai toutefois tenté de rester sans jugement devant ce besoin du luxe, parce que l’auteure m’a laissé voir une belle vulnérabilité chez ses deux personnages tout comme un désir sincère d’aimer et d’élever ses enfants.
Bref, j’ai trouvé ce premier roman fort réussi et j’ai été agréablement surprise de la tournure des événements. Les jumeaux m’ont semblé beaucoup plus troublés, troublants et déséquilibrés que je l’imaginais. Cette professeure de littérature, agréée de l’université York, a su créer un roman où l’étrangeté gagne les lignes et nous rend fascinés par ces fameux jumeaux…
Le fil rouge tient à remercier les éditions Québec-Amérique pour le service de presse.
À l'école secondaire à Calgary pendant les années '70s, on nous a fait lire des contes pleins de cruauté, comme "The Lottery", "Thus I refute Beelzy" et "The Scarlet Ibis". Ce premier roman dégoutant me rappelle ces histoires affreuses.
Selon sa biographie à Quebec-amerique.com, "Marie-Hélène Larochelle est professeure de littérature à l’Université York, à Toronto. Ses recherches portent sur la violence dans la littérature contemporaine."
J'aurais dû me renseigner avant de lire son livre. La violence, et York!
Pour vous, cher lecteur, il n'est pas trop tard.
Un couple, qui vient de perdre un bébé né mort, adopte des jumeaux russes sadiques. Vous pouvez imaginer le reste.
Emma, la protagoniste, est nerveuse et agaçante. Son mari, Gregory, est distant et mal étoffé par l'auteur. Comme Larochelle, ce sont des francophones qui habitent à Toronto, une ville moins charmante que Montréal ou Québec. Aucun des personnages n'affiche une seule qualité rédemptrice.
Si vous aimez des films du genre "horror", vous allez peut être apprécier ce bouquin. Moi, non, merci.
Et merci beaucoup, Globe and Mail, d'avoir recommandé ce livre.
Un couple bourgeois de Toronto passe par un processus difficile pour adopter un enfant après avoir vécu un deuil. Finalement, tout déboule: des jumeaux d’un an sont disponibles pour eux en Russie, il suffit de compléter les papiers et d’aller les chercher très rapidement. Une fois à la maison, le couple ne peut que remarquer que les jumeaux sont étranges, taciturnes, et ne s’attachent pas à eux. Et, au fil des années, ça devient pire. Bien pire.
C’est quand même rare que je tombe sur des romans québécois sombres, pour ne pas dire «horreur» qui soient aussi bien écrits. Celui-là aussi, je l’ai lu presque d’un coup, en moins de 24h. L’intrigue était solide jusqu’à la fin.
Lu en moins de 24h. Bonne histoire, dur de fermer le livre sans vouloir connaître la fin, mais si selon moi un dénouement plus élaboré aurait été bienvenu. A book you can finish in a day.