The Devils' Dance

by Hamid Ismailov, Donald Rayfield (Translator), John Farndon (Translator)

Winner of the EBRD Literature Prize 2019

Named One of '10 Books to Read This Spring' by Tatler Online

‘My book of the year’ — Caroline Eden

‘A mesmerising — and terrifying — novel of tremendous range, energy and potency. This brilliant translation establishes Ismailov as a major literary figure on the international scene’ — William Boyd

‘A great and timeless caravanserai’ — Barry Langridge, Former Head of Asia Region, BBC World Service

On New Year’s Eve 1938, the writer Abdulla Qodiriy is taken from his home by the Soviet secret police and thrown into a Tashkent prison. There, to distract himself from the physical and psychological torment of beatings and mindless interrogations, he attempts to mentally reconstruct the novel he was writing at the time of his arrest – based on the tragic life of the Uzbek poet-queen Oyxon, married to three khans in succession, and living as Abdulla now does, with the threat of execution hanging over her. As he gets to know his cellmates, Abdulla discovers that the Great Game of Oyxon's time, when English and Russian spies infiltrated the courts of Central Asia, has echoes in the 1930s present, but as his identification with his protagonist increases and past and present overlap it seems that Abdulla’s inability to tell fact from fiction will be his undoing.

The Devils’ Dance – by an author banned in Uzbekistan for twenty-seven years – brings to life the extraordinary culture of 19th century Turkestan, a world of lavish poetry recitals, brutal polo matches, and a cosmopolitan and culturally diverse Islam rarely described in western literature. Hamid Ismailov’s virtuosic prose recreates this multilingual milieu in a digressive, intricately structured novel, dense with allusion, studded with quotes and sayings, and threaded through with modern and classical poetry.

With this poignant, loving resurrection of both a culture and a literary canon brutally suppressed by a dictatorship which continues today, Ismailov demonstrates yet again his masterful marriage of contemporary international fiction and the Central Asian literary traditions, and his deserved position in the pantheon of both.

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Asia, Literary Fiction, Historical, Literature, Banned Books

430 pages, Kindle Edition

First published October 30, 2012

Reviews

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 4 out of 5]

Now a very worthy winner of the 2019 EBRD prize

If a man didn’t love his people, if he didn’t value his language, why would he become a writer? But this didn’t mean believing that one’s own people and language were the only ones in the world!

The Devil's Dance is the 2nd translation of a novel by the Uzbek author Hamid Ismailov which I have read; in my review of the first, the 2015 IFFP longlisted The Dead Lake, I was impressed by the prose and translation but left a little disappointed by the brevity and lack of substance, and felt it suffered by obvious comparison to The Tin Drum. But The Devil's Dance puts any doubts to rest - this is a far more satisfying, original and significant novel.

This is a book largely rooted in historic facts, indeed from two different eras of Uzbek history, yet a powerful work of the imagination. And while a fascinating novel, also a powerful work of meta-fiction with a novel-within-a-novel, infused with poetry and with much to say about how history and novels are written.

The facts:

Abdulla Qodiriy was one of Uzbekistan's greatest and most popular novelists - indeed his 1921-5 book Days Bygone was the first modern full-length novel in the language.

On 31 December 1937, he was arrested and imprisoned by the NKVD, on charges of nationalist conspiracy as part of Stalin's Great Purge. He spent the rest of his life in a NVKD prison, and was executed in October 1938 alongside many other prominent figures of Uzbek culture, notably the poet Cho’lpon.

As Ismailov himself has explained (http://enews.fergananews.com/articles... - translation not by Donald Rayfield!):

In 1937, Qodiriy was going to write a novel, which he said was to make his readers to stop reading his iconic novels "Days Bygone" and "Scorpion from the altar," so beautiful would it have been. The novel would have told about a certain maid, who became a wife of three Khans - a kind of Uzbek Helen of Troy. He told everyone: "I will sit down this winter and finish this novel - I have done my preparatory work, it remains only to write. Then people will stop reading my previous books". He began writing this novel, but on the December 31, 1937 he was arrested. All manuscripts were confiscated and later burnt. Not a single word was left of the novel.

The three Khans concerned are the real-life historical Khan's of Kokland and Bukhara, two of the three Khanate's - alongside Khiva - that comprised what is now Uzbekistan during the 19th century, in particular 1820-1842 when the novel was to have been set:

Umar Khan of Kokland;

his son and successor after Umar Khan's death in 1822 until his own death in 1842, Madali Khan. Madali Khan was only 14 when his father died, and his mother the poet Nodira, Umar Khan's first wife, served as his advisor and, many believed, largely ruled as regent in practice. She was also subject of the first postage stamp of independent Uzbekistan post Soviet rule -
http://grandpoohbah.blogspot.co.uk/20...

and Nasrullo Khan of Bukhara, who had Madali Khan and Nodira executed in 1842 after briefly conquering Kokland

Ismailov's novel brilliant reimagines both Abdulla Qodiriy's last months but also the missing novel he might have written, a novel that centres on the tragic figure of Oyxon, unwilling wife to all three Khans [real or fictional I am less clear]. In Abdulla Qodiriy's story, as retold in this novel, Umar Khan has a conquered enemy, G'ozi-xo'ja, who he has banished into poverty and exile. But the wife of another Khan alerts him that G'ozi-xo'ja:

has a daughter, called Oyxon, a girl of indescribable beauty - words simply can't capture her, tongues become numb, pens break. As the couplet says:

The moment I see her, my ears runs with tears
As the stars only shine when the sun disappears.

Umar Khan sets out to make her his wife, forcing her father to break-off her engagement to her beloved fiance, and violating her on their wedding night. When Umar dies relatively shortly after, she hopes her fiance may take her back, only for her step-son Madila Khan, in violation of Islamic law, to force his attentions on her and then take her as his wife. And then as Nasrullo Khan sets his sights on the neighbouring kingdom, she becomes one of the prizes she seeks: meanwhile those she loves, or who at least look out for her interests, all meet untimely ends.

A key - and ambiguous - part in the story is played by the poetess and Queen Nodira . Initially jealous of her husband Umar Khan's new wife the court seethes with intrigue and resentment, albeit not expressed explicitly but instead via duels of poetic rhyming couplets. rather like 21st century rap battles, the words all the more cutting in the elegance. But later she tries to protect her from her rather out of control son.

In Ismailov's novels, accounts of Abdulla's experiences and interrogations in prison are interspersed freely with his attempt to reconstruct in his mind the novel he had been writing. At first he struggles, his own confusion not initially aiding the reader either:

Had he managed to remember what he had written down? Alas, had it all now merged into a meaningless mass? If he could set it down on paper he would never confuse Umar’s Kokland palace with Nasrullo’s fortress in Bukhara, especially as the events were not one year apart, but ten.

But in fact the prison, although without books, is a rich treasure trove of information. His fellow political prisoners, unsurprisingly given the crackdown on Uzbek nationalist culture include poets and other cultural experts - indeed he is pulled up short at one point to find a rare exception:

Abdulla presumed that this lad, too, would know a lot about the nineteenth-century, but no, the youth was neither a historian, nor a spy, nor a trader, nor a mulla: he turned out to be just an ordinary criminal.

And their help takes his story in a different direction, in particular to embrace the wider geo-political struggles of the time between Britain and Russia, in which the Khanates were caught up - the so called Great Game played between the two great powers between 1830 and 1895, a phrase whose historical origin can be traced to a letter in 1840 from the British agent Captain Arthur Conolly to a fellow British officer:

You've a great game, a noble game, before you.
...
If the British Government would only play the grand game — help Russia cordially to all that she has a right to expect — shake hands with Persia — get her all possible amends from Oosbegs — force the Bukhara Amir to be just to us, the Afghans, and other Oosbeg states, and his own kingdom — but why go on; you know my, at any rate in one sense, enlarged views. InshAllah! The expediency, nay the necessity of them will be seen, and we shall play the noble part that the first Christian nation of the world ought to fill.

In 1838 another British agent, Colonel Charles Stoddart, had gone to Bukhara to persuade Nasrullo to release some Russian slaves and form a treaty with the British, only for Nasrullo to hold him captive, unconvinced that of his true intent. In 1841, Conolly also went to Bukhara to attempt to have Stoddard freed, only to be held captive himself and Nasrullo had both executed both men in June 1842, shortly after having captured and had executed Madali Khan and Nodira in April.

In Abdulla's version, Conolly goes first to Kokland where Oyxon sees in him her own possible hope of salvation.

Their story became famous in Britain after the Jewish Christian missionary Joseph Wolff went to Bukhara in 1843 to discover their fate, narrowly escaped sharing their fate, and returned to the UK to write a book Narrative of a Mission to Bokhara, in the Years 1843-1845, to Ascertain the Fate of Colonel Stoddart and Captain Conolly.

In Ismailov's novel, one of Abdulla's fellow prisoners, Muborak, of Jewish descent, claims to have been imprisoned as an English spy, and to have spent 3 years in England, amongst the Jewish community there, where he met the grandson of Joseph Wolff. True or not, he certainly has read Wolff's book, of which Abdulla was unaware:

But was it credible? There were stories gushing out of Muborak like a fountain! But if they were true, they would be invaluable for Abdulla, for the story he was devising. After all, there were no books for him to consult here.

As the story proceeds, the parallels between Abdulla's story and the story he is writing of Oxyon become explicitly stronger, indeed he starts to write the story that way. At times, particularly as his mind starts to weaken under interrogation and long imprisonment, they even become literally confused in his mind - at one point he seems to finds himself in a cell with Stoddart and Conolly themselves, who play an early version of scrabble, and towards the novel's end he writes himself into the 19th Century story, speaking direct to Oxyon.

And while his own fate seems clear, particularly once the investigation is concluded, he keeps trying to prolong the story of Oxyon, as if by keeping her and his story alive, he may keep himself alive. In the last pages he is led out to meet his end, he finally meets again the poet Cho'lpon.

Outside dogs started barking, chains rattled, soldiers yelled. But Cho'lpon, however hoarse, did not stop reciting

'It is a leaf's destiny to fall;
'That is how it must be,' so they say.
But mighty Life, which makes rules for all,
Makes thousands more every day.

As he got out of the Black Maria and drew the fresh air into his lungs, Abdulla had time for one final thought: what a pity, only one of my stories has an ending.

The Devil's Dance is published by Tilted Axis Press, founded by the inaugural Man Booker International winning Deborah Smith. Their mission statement:

To shake up contemporary international literature.

Tilted Axis publishes the books that might not otherwise make it into English, for the very reasons that make them exciting to us – artistic originality, radical vision, the sense that here is something new.

Tilting the axis of world literature from the centre to the margins allows us to challenge that very division. These margins are spaces of compelling innovation, where multiple traditions spark new forms and translation plays a crucial role.

As part of carving out a new direction in the publishing industry, Tilted Axis is also dedicated to improving access. We’re proud to pay our translators the proper rate, and to operate without unpaid interns.

The emphasis placed on translation is vital to their work and shines through strongly here.

The Dead Lake was translated into English (by the excellent Andrew Bromfield) from a Russian version prepared by Ismailov himself. But for The Devil's Dance, Donald Rayfield had to revert to the Uzbek original (and assistance from the author) since the Russian version, not by Ismailov, was (per Rayfield's afterwords) 'travestied not translated', potentially making this the first contemporary novel translated into English directed from Uzbek.

Rayfield is not a translator whose work I have read before, although I was aware of him from his rather forthright views on the 'P and V' controversy in Russian-English translation. He is no fan of Oprah's favourites:

Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky seem to follow the Byzantine principle of producing a translation from which the original, if it were ever lost, might be reconstituted word by word.
....
Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky seem to follow the Byzantine principle of producing a translation from which the original, if it were ever lost, might be reconstituted word by word.

They have won PEN/Book-of-the-Month Club translation prizes and praise from Oprah Winfrey, but have provoked controversy and condemnation in professional circles.

Their ‘Jack Sprat and his wife’ technique – Pevear knows no Russian, Volokhonsky, evidently, has a Russian academic’s command of English – has often succeeded with Russian poetry (for instance Frances Cornford’s and Esther Polianowsky Salaman’s translations of Tiutchev), but not with prose, where flow, readability and transparency are called for.

The P & V approach – a literal crib by a native speaker of Russian reverentially reworked by a native speaker of English – has been advocated by many Russians, including Vladimir Nabokov, because it appears to respect the original Russian, and because it overrides both the constraints and freedoms of English. As a result, Russia and Russian prose seem much more exotic, obscure, even unreadable: readers who believe in ‘no gain without pain’ are persuaded that their experience is now more authentic.

Certainly Rayfield's prose here ticks the flow, readability and transparency boxes and reading is a pleasure. He does admit to having made one necessary sacrifice - reproducing the variety of dialects of the different inmates that share our hero's cell could only have been done by using different English dialects - which would have been horribly anachronistic - but we are left instead with a rich variety of sayings and proverbs, which indeed are quite striking in the prose and effect at creating a sense of readable otherness.

I am not entirely sure that the "P&V approach" does work better for poetry -at least a better approach is available and Tilted Axis and Rayfield, vitally, had the poems, particularly of both Nodira and Cho'lpon, that play such a key and extensive role in the novel, translated by a specialist, John Farndon, who efforts rather puts the lie to Samuel Johnson's famous edict that "Poetry, indeed, cannot be translated." Farndon himself claims his version are "mere shadows of the originals", but what we read in English is certainly impressive and supports his argument that [while] "you might think that replicating metre and rhyme would tempt the translator to stray from the original, in fact, I found the opposite to be true since in order to phrase with clarity in English, rather than poetic obfuscation, I needed to work hard to get to the heart of the precise meaning and the way the original worked."

We the readers are lucky indeed to benefit from the hard-work and dedication of Tilted Axis, Rayfield and Farndon, in bringing us Ismailov's wonderful novel.

[Jenny (Reading Envy) · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Devil's Dance by Hamid Ismailov was a challenging read for a number of reasons. It is a story within a story, of the historical 19th Uzbek female poet who is forcibly married to three Khans in a row, as told by Abdulla Qordiriy, an Uzbek writer who has been imprisoned in a Soviet (NKVD) facility in 1938.

This is a translated novel, translated from the Uzbek which the translator isn't trained in, but the Soviet translation was too full of problems (his afterword was fascinating!) There is poetry on almost every page, also translated, and most assuredly full of layers of meaning that I grasped only some of the time.

Just reading it, dense prose and long chapters, proved a challenge. But also the way violent acts are mentioned in passing can get hard to deal with as a reader, the violence against women but also the mind games in the prison.

But I can now say I have read a novel from Uzbekistan, and this translation won a major translation award. It must have been quite the feat.

[Gumble's Yard - Golden Reviewer · Rating 4 out of 5]

Usually a narrative begins to move towards its end after the climax, the knots have been unravelled, the complications have been simplified. But life around the novel (if only you could call it life!) was restoring the tangles and knots, and was doing all it could to make more and more obscurity out of the clarity. At the start of his imprisonment everything was as crystal-clear as a winter’s day: who was a friend and who an enemy. Hafiz had something to say about this “Love seemed easy at first, but then complications came”

A complex and wonderfully obscure novel – best unravelled and unknotted with the assistance of this brilliant review which would make a fantastic foreword to any future edition of the novel.

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

[Bryn Hammond · Rating 5 out of 5]

A moving novel about the beloved Uzbek writer Abdulla Qodiriy, a victim of His (he’s too beastly to name in the novel) Great Purge in 1938, along with a raft of Uzbek writers and intellectuals, the most famous of whom also grace these pages. Qodiriy wrote ‘the first modern Uzbek novel’.

To be honest I avoid novels where writers write about writing. Possibly it’s not then fair to say that Abdulla in this novel is the portrait of a writer I have taken most to heart and found most true. Unpretentious, not self-involved… except he is so involved in his stories that his wife gets jealous when he weeps over a woman main he has killed off. He is so involved that he identifies with Oyxon and comes to see he is telling his own story, in hers. The background 19th century story is about tyrants, like the present. There are three women poets. There are three local rulers in different ways tyrannical and unworthy. There are two English spies, for the Great Game becomes an unplanned part of his novel; the Englishmen end up in prison too, and Qodiriy hallucinates them in his prison. Inside prison for a while there is held a symposium of intellectuals held for being anti-Soviet, nationalist, that is, for practising and preserving Uzbek culture. The public for this translation might be more familiar with China and Tibet. This is about Central Asia, or Turkestan, and cultural obliteration by the Soviet government.

But the 19th century was not a glory age, even though Qodiriy gets in trouble for writing the first modern novel on Uzbek history, Past Days – becomes the most celebrated Uzbek writer, and suspect to the government. Despite this, the khans and emirs of Bukhara and Khoqand are frivolous thugs equated with the authorities Qodiriy meets in the present day. In the political world the devils dance on, just to another tune. But the poetry is celebrated, as is Qodiriy’s prose – and both endangered, both stamped out of existence, burnt, declared unspeakable. A library is burnt in the 19th century too, Nodira’s, the poet and queen.

Of Nodira, at first I thought, ‘jealous wife, how dull’, but she is presented as an important poet – Abdulla Qodiriy has an exchange of views in prison about her significance to Uzbek poetry, wherein he argues for her and the other inmate against. Oyxon becomes wife to three emirs or khans – but these are three rapists. Three abusers more or less brutal. She turns to drink. She’s a poet too but her works are lost. Qodiriy searches for them, sure they would tell all about life and be a revelation, but then he is arrested.

Near the end, that unabashed entanglement of the author with his character that Ismailov tells us of, leads to a tender scene where Qodiriy and Oyxon each face the worst and encounter the other as a comfort. Devils’ dance too is what Abdulla’s mother and father used to warn him about: the devils taking over his head if he drifts so into his fictions. Abdulla does ‘go mad’ in prison, where his novel is the anchor to hope, its continuation a something-to-do aside from being interrogated; its figments visit him in prison. But that’s a dance worth risking devils for.

I was frustrated by the translation. For a novel that is about literature, and that celebrates diversity of language, it is a pity that there is no attempt to render the speech ways so important to Qodiriy the narrator. He listens to a fellow prisoner whose speech is ornamented with Persian phrasing, and Qodiriy says he was enchanted not for the content but for the speech – but we have read in plain English, not distinguished from the passages before and after. Nobody wants a dodgy accent, but you can differentiate and you can transport embroidery of words into English. As the translator notes in his afterword, the past and present stories are told in Uzbek’s high and low styles. There is no indication of this distinction in the English prose. I understand we’re to be grateful for English translations out of Uzbek, because there more or less aren’t any. But I can hope another attempt at translation lies in store for this significant novel.

[Inderjit Sanghera · Rating 4 out of 5]

The novel follows two intertwined stories; firstly the incarcerated dissident writer Abdulla, who is imprisoned for supposed nationalist sympathies in 1930's Uzbekistan and secondly Oxyon, a tragic figure in the story Abdulla is writing. Their stories are in many ways analogous; both are imprisoned at the whim of despotic rulers-Abdulla at the hands of the ceaseless hands of the Soviet state and Oxyon's at the hands of her tyrannical and obsessive lover.  Whereas Abdulla's story covers his gradual disintegration under the remorseless interrogation if his captors, Oxyon's will is gradually ground down via successive unhappy marriages, whereas Abdulla's imprisonment if physical, the cage which entraps Oxyon is grounded in the society she is a part of, where she is treated as fodder by the various men in her life.

Despite this, however, Ismailov is concerned with the metaphysical impact of imprisonment; Abdulla's disintegration isn't so much physical as it is mental, as he gradually succumbs to the mental anguish of constant denouncements, accused of crimes he is scarce aware of, castigated for beliefs he doesn't hold. The New Year on which Abdulla is taken prisoner proves to be a false dawn as not only does he miss out on the spring which he so cherishes but he loses all hope in himself and others, as the sense of ennui gradual seeps into his soul and is capture in life of Oxyon, a poetess and queen who is raped and used by her foster son. The regimes which Abdulla and Oxyon live through are both capricious and cruel; one under the duress of Stalin's purges and the other pulled between conflicting powers in the great game, with all of the characters in the novel pawns in the hands of the political machinations of the political events unfolding around them.

Alongside this, Ismailov explores the richness of Kazakh culture and literature, of its poetry which irrevocably destroyed under the auspices of the Soviet regime, with loss being the key theme of the novel, not just of the people depicted in the story, but also of the cultures within which they existed.  

[Mandel]

Reading this book, I was often reminded of Borges' story "The Secret Miracle", a Holocaust-era narrative in which the Jewish playwright Jaromir Hladík, who's been tormented by his inability to finish the play he's been working on, is imprisoned and sentenced to death. He stands before the firing squad, but as soon as the soldiers fire their guns, time stops. The bullets hang in mid-air, and he and everyone around him are utterly frozen. Yet, he can still think, and comes to understand that he's being given the chance to finish his play, but only within the confines of his mind. No one will ever read it. No one will ever even know he's finished it. Yet, free of all worldly concerns, of his craving for external validation; and faced with the utter inevitability of his impending death, Hladík's creativity is finally unleashed. Carefully, he works on his play, crafting it to perfection. As soon as he does, though, time resumes, and the bullets hit their mark.

Ismailov's novel is similarly the story of a writer who is driven to complete the work on which he's been laboring within the confines of his mind as he awaits execution. However, Ismailov's writer is the very real life Abdulla Qodiriy, one of the most renowned Uzbek writers of the 20th century. On December 31st, 1937, Qodiriy was imprisoned by the notorious NKVD - the Stalin-era secret police. Less than a year later, he became one of the millions of victims of Stalin's Purge, executed for being an 'anti-Soviet bourgeois nationalist' - i.e., an intellectual working to preserve and further his nation's cultural traditions. As a result, the manuscript of his final novel, Emir Umar's Slave Girl, was lost to history - in all likelihood, destroyed by the NKVD.

What Ismailov gives us in this novel is an imaginative reconstruction of Qodiriy's time in prison. As he is forced to live in absolute squalor, he is regularly beaten, tortured, and subjected to the cruel mind games and manipulations of the NKVD. Yet, his thoughts are preoccupied by the novel he hopes but also secretly knows he will never be able to finish. Using this conceit, Ismailov crafts a poignant and painful depiction of the artistic process. As his humiliation and suffering escalates, Qodiriy's vision of the story of the young girl Oyxhon darkens. His historical novel, based on real events of the 19th century, begins as something of a fairy tale of aristocratic gentility and romantic love. Over those long months in prison, though, and as Qodiriy learns more and more about Oyxhon's real life circumstances from the fellow intellectuals with whom he's been imprisoned; his narrative slowly morphs into a story of woe. Oyxhon, like Qodiriy himself, is subjected to indignity after indignity at the hands of cold, rapacious men with absolute power, forced to marry first Emir Umar, and then, upon his death, her own stepson Madali.

In this way, Ismailov not only tells the story of Stalin's Purge, but also of the depredations the Uzbek people both committed and were subjected to during the Great Game - the imperial rivalry between the British and Russian empires, both of which spent the 19th century vying for influence and control over Central Asia. However, the story of these gigantic historical events is always grounded in that of Qodiriy himself, an artist who, like Borges's Hladík, can't help but continue to tell stories even under the most intense forms of duress. And, Ismailov's portrait of modern Uzbek history is always grounded in the spirit of the Uzbek people: Qodiriy and his fellow inmates, but also Oyxhon and the other women confined within the walls of an emirate harem, all of whom constantly tell and re-tell the stories of their people, quote poetry and sing songs, even as they suffer horrifically.

A truly remarkable novel. It's my first dip into Central Asian literature, but now I'm hungry to learn more...

[Ariya · Rating 4 out of 5]

My first Uzbek English translated novel and I’m grateful for having read it. In the translator’s note, Donald Rayfield says he knows Russian and Farsi, and he reads the Russian translated edition and then he broadly explains that he compares Russian edition with the Latin alphabetical letters in Uzbek. The novel also contains so many verses and lines of poetry that the English version has the other translator, John Farndon, to translate them into rhyming schemed English poetry. This novel’s editor, Deborah Smith, who as far as I’ve remembered, specializes in Korean literature. Generally, no one in the work of translation progress is actually fluent in the Uzbek language, yet this English translation conveys the beauty of both prose and poetry so seamlessly. It’s a tremendous work of effort.

The story itself requires a bit of understanding about Uzbekistan during Stalin's regime and carries through the history of its multi-racial cultures. During that time, Russian militia and Uzbekistan’s government enacted the law, resulting in many writers and artists whose works were considered provocative and inappropriate to the nation’s growing stability to be captured and later sentenced to death. Ismailov writes a meta story, in which he fictionalized one of the essential literary figures in the country, Abdulla Qodiriy, who was accused as ‘the enemy of the country’ and was executed alongside other scholars and writers. Qodiry’s imprisonment was spent trading stories with other prisoners, including professors, English men, accused spies and prominently intertwined with his ‘unfinished’ last novel about a young woman, Oyxon, who was a wife of three khans during the Emir's Islamic regime. Ismailov imagines Qodiriy’s story-telling: he conjured up Oyxon’s suffering as his own, invisible yet searing, as she had been betrayed by her own family, so did Qodiry by his own country, traded as a second wife of the Emir Umar in Kokhand and forced to marry her cruel step son.

Written to mourn the loss of Uzbek cultural identity, this novel paints a beautiful and suffering image of many innocent artists, especially of those who spent their entire life dedicating to art forms and historical anecdotes, but their lives were brutally cut short by the dictatorship era and new reformation. But the history is also more complicated and far from a one-dimensional narrative; the Soviet era provides great changes, progress and education, leaving the oppressive Emir’s anarchichal regime to dust as the religion’s law (fatwa, I believe) and it creates compelling, paradoxical conflicts in Uzbekistan’s history. What fascinates me the most is when the story reaches its tension, there are always poetry lines recited, as though their lives had poetry naturally incorporated in every pain and joy. How the characters perceive pain and love through a couple of fleeting lines even in the final moment of their lives inevitably breathed through beautiful words and meters.

Much later, in a bookstore I ran into in Nukus, I found Qodiry’s novels in the school's assigned readings section. It’s surreal; knowing that I was reading his fictitious life and saw his works reread by present day’s students, and even more surreal, considering that I’ve never actually ‘read’ his works, only intertextuality.

[Augustin Erba · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was in prison with him

There are novels that make all other novels fade. There are novels that transform the world while you’re reading them. Many writers in the USA try for the Great American Novel, few succeed.
This, however, is a truly great novel about our world, superbly translated.
The stories and poems from the past are masterfully interwoven into one beautiful carpet, on which the reader can walk, rest or sleep for many days.
It is dark, but the days of the writer in the Soviet prison, are full of thoughts about our very existance, and the power of narration.
Maybe it is because I am a writer myself, but I felt I was imprisoned by the novel.

[peg · Rating 4 out of 5]

This novel, translated from Uzbek, is one of the 3 finalists in the newly established EBRD international prize. https://www.ebrd.com/cs/Satellite?c=C...
It is a complex meta fictional work based on 2 historical time periods. The main frame of the story takes place in the 1930’s when an actual famous Uzbek author is imprisoned by Communist authorities. During this time we see the novel he had been writing as he continues to compose it mentally. The 2 stories are really well integrated and filled with poetry, both in the language used and actual content.

[Laura · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Anyone who's gone through something similar himself will take it with him to the grave. Anyone who hasn't will simply say 'There but for the grace of God!' I'd say that there's nothing here one can make literature out of. ... from the human point of view: there is death here, but no love. It's hard to make literature out of nothing but death; that's why I wouldn't write about this place."
Stunning, impactful, deeply moving. The Devil's Dance is two stories in one -- following great Uzbek novelist Abdulla Qodiriy's incarceration by the NKVD as well as the plot of the book he wants to write, which follows Oyxon, who is abusively forced into marriage by three Khans, all against the backdrop of the politics of the Great Game. Much of the novel is based in history -- Quodiriy was imprisoned in 1937-8 and ultimately executed during the Great Purge (as were many other Uzbek writers and intellectuals), and the Khans as well as many background characters (the British spies, several other Uzbek authors) are indeed historical figures. As the book progresses, and Qodiriy's incarceration takes a toll on his ability to trust his own mind and perceptions, the stories blend together as Qodiriy finds parallels between Oyxon's captivity and his own. I've learned more about this particular period in the history of the region as this book as sent me on various tangents of research to explore what is and isn't fictionalized here, but most of all I appreciate The Devil's Dance for its account of Qodiriy's experiences and mindset as he struggles, amidst extraordinarily harsh and tormenting conditions, to maintain his focus on his story. Though it took a little while to get into at the beginning, I soon found myself entirely emotionally invested in Qodiriy's life. I look forward to reading more from Hamid Ismailov.
Content warning: animal cruelty, rape, incest, violence, suicide, sexual assault, domestic abuse, torture, forcible confinement, slavery, psychological abuse, physical abuse

[Jacques · Rating 4 out of 5]

Que cosa más tremenda. Merece relectura, que terminé leyéndola a medio bloqueo.

Con una doble narración Ismailov nos narra parte de la vida de dos de las figuras más importantes de las letras uzbekas: La poetiza Oyxon y el novelista Abdullah Qodiry. Separados por cien año de historia, pero conectados por lo terrible que les tocó vivir bajo los gobiernos autoritarios de los emires y de Stalin. Metaliterariamente también surge la pregunta, de la misma forma que Abdullah escribió sobre Oyxon para transmitir sus propias penas ¿habrá escrito Ismailov a Abdullah por las mismas razones?
La mezcla entre los tiempos me pareció maravillosa. Prácticamente todo me pareció maravilloso.
La traducción, eso sí, está un poco regulera.

Editoriales hispanas soy yo, otra vez, ¿me podrían traducir este libro, pls?:
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[Vivienne · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hamid Ismailov's novel opened my eyes to a whole new world. With two tragedies in one, I was completely absorbed by the plight of Abdulla Qodiry in the Stalinist purge of Uzbek intellectuals (as Augustin Erba said in his review, I was in prison with him) and the beauty of Oyxon and her tragic life in the harems of the 19th century Khanates. This is a complex and very moving novel. The ending left me bereft but wanting to know more and desperate to visit this fascinating country. The Asian Book Review sums it up perfectly:
"The Devils’ Dance defies description. It is, at one level, prison literature reminiscent of Solzhenitsyn … The Arabian Nights-like world that Abdulla conjures up for his novel is, on the other hand, veiled and exotic. It is a world of shimmering light and malevolent shadows, filled in equal parts with beauty, erudition, brutality and duplicity."

[Sasha · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not the easiest read but worth it

[Jay · Rating 4 out of 5]

Whilst it was a bit slow to start and is initially difficult to understand if you don't know anything at all about Uzbek history, you soon become initiated into what is in all senses of the word, two novels in one. The first is of the writer, now political prisoner, Abdulla Qodiriy and the second is of his famous lost manuscript which he is writing in his head in jail. A book that is well-worth reading and certainly grew on me as it progressed.

[Nadirah · Rating 4 out of 5]

Rating: 3.75

"The Devils' Dance" is a fictional account of Abdulla Qodiriy, one of Uzbekistan's most well-loved literary figures. In 1938, he was imprisoned along with other writers, poets, learned intellectuals, and professionals during Stalin's Great Terror, during which many were dispatched off on trumped-up charges.

In this, Ismailov imagines what the famous writer could have gone through while in prison. There’s also another book within this book as Ismailov extends his imagination to include Qodiriy's unfinished third novel titled Emir Umar's Slave Girl, rumored to have been completed but is now lost and presumably destroyed by the NKVD (Soviet Union's now-defunct agency tasked to look after prisons and labor camps, and is responsible for the prisoner massacre depicted in this book). In essence, you have two books in "The Devils' Dance" wherein writer (& now political prisoner) Qodiriy spends his time in prison trying to finish his 3rd novel in his head.

This is the second book I've read from Ismailov, and there's definitely a pattern to them. His novels tend to weave in the narrator's story with Asiatic folklore and poetry, which means we get several tales within a tale. Since there isn't much translation of Uzbek works readily available, I can't compare it with other novels written by Uzbek writers, but I have a feeling poetry plays a major role in their storytelling.

I'm still not too sure not to make of this one. While I enjoyed it for what it was, I still feel like the two threads of the story felt disjointed, almost as if they were haphazardly patched together. It does make for a rather disorienting read at times, trying to keep track of all the different characters and timelines running around the book. Ultimately, though, I'm glad I read this and I especially appreciated the afterword that gives the context of making sense of the intertwining storylines.

This book will not be for everyone and can be an acquired taste; it's best if you have some appreciation for non-linear storytelling and a semi-complex narrative. Also, get ready to crack your head open over the meaning of each poem and how it bears to the characters' present circumstances because there will be a lot of those. Best of luck!

[Dolf van der Haven · Rating 5 out of 5]

My first endeavour into Uzbek literature and a highly confusing one. It helps knowing a bit about Uzbek language, history and culture in order to really grasp the meaning of this novel. It took me until halfway to find out that the characters in one storyline were actually historic, and it took me to the end to find out that the main protagonist was also historic, and that all poetry quoted was in fact original poetry.
That said, the interweaving stories in this novel are gripping, the poetry dense and the overall style very poetic. Hamid Ismailov should at some point be considered for a Nobel prize.
Winner of the 2019 EBRD Literature Prize.

[Richard Gault · Rating 5 out of 5]

This a truly magnificent novel, exquisitely written and translated. It’s a tale of love and of the best and the worst of humanity. It’s a tale for these times though set in the past. Exact history may not but struggles do repeat themselves. Ismailov’s book will widen both your inner and outer world.

[R.L. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Κριτική στα Ελληνικά πιο κάτω...

3+/5
The Devil's Dance was an interesting read, full of "intertextuality", as an Uzbek author born on 1954 makes the premise of his book an other real Uzbek author born on 1894 who is trying to construct his final book while been imprisoned and facing possible execution. In turn this potential book concerns real personalities who lived on the early 19th century and were not only Khans's wives, Khans, Emirs and so on, but poets too. There are tons of references on real poems, real books, real facts and real historical figures and some interesting plot lines too.

The problem here is that, let's face it, only a few western world readers would be familiar with all this stuff, so a lot of the impact this book could have made, out of context is lost to them. For example I only knew Chol'pon and this vaguely as a name, while I recollected very vaguely some names and events of the "Great Game" in the area.

The setting on the "present" time of the book, the Great Terror or Purge of Stalin, was up to an extent a sad but easier context to grasp, although I am not sure how realistic Ismailov's take on the prison life is. His main character, Abdulla Qodiry seems to live on the clouds most of the time and while prisoners cope with what they have to go through in different ways on a psychological stand-point, I'm not convinced that Abdulla or the other prisoners would go as far as risk their lives to gain research material for his novel, let alone a prison guard or would be so absoarbed by his idea of this book. The behavior of the prison staff was often surreal too and there were some too poignant and artificial scenes that didn't make sense to me.

The book felt often very disjointed and long-winded, while poetry is not my strong point either. Furthermore, as much of the narration is supposed to be a work in progress, the story within the story often overturned itsself, the narrative was interrupted or the scenes that were supposed to be crucial never materialised.

But all that said, I appreciated very much the window this book opened in an alien to me culture, I liked parts of the book and it wetted my appetite to seek information on various themes, persons and other stuff too. I don't think it's something that I would read again anytime soon, but I am glad I read it!

3+/5
Αυτό ήταν ένα ενδιαφέρον ανάγνωσμα, γεμάτο «διακειμενικότητα», καθώς ένας Ουζμπέκος συγγραφέας γεννημένος το 1954 κάνει την υπόθεση του βιβλίου του έναν άλλο πραγματικό Ουζμπέκο συγγραφέα γεννημένο το 1894 ο οποίος προσπαθεί να τελειώσει το τελευταίο του βιβλίο ενώ είναι φυλακισμένος και αντιμετωπίζει πιθανή εκτέλεση. Με τη σειρά του, αυτό το πιθανό βιβλίο αφορά πραγματικές προσωπικότητες που έζησαν στις αρχές του 19ου αιώνα και δεν ήταν μόνο σύζυγοι ηγεμόνων, Εμίρηδες και ούτω καθεξής, αλλά ταυτόχρονα και ποιητές. Υπάρχουν συνεχώς αναφορές σε αληθινά ποιήματα, αληθινά βιβλία, πραγματικά γεγονότα και πραγματικά ιστορικά πρόσωπα και επίσης μερικές ενδιαφέρουσες υποθέσεις μέσα στην πλοκή.

Το πρόβλημα εδώ είναι ότι, ας το παραδεχτούμε, μόνο λίγοι αναγνώστες του δυτικού κόσμου είναι εξοικειωμένοι με όλα αυτά τα πράγματα, οπότε μεγάλο μέρος του αντίκτυπου που θα μπορούσε να έχει αυτό το βιβλίο, εκτός πλαισίου, χάνεται για εμάς. Για παράδειγμα, ήξερα μόνο το Chol'pon και αυτό αόριστα ως όνομα, ενώ θυμήθηκα πολύ αόριστα κάποια ονόματα και γεγονότα του «Μεγάλου Παιχνιδιού» στην περιοχή.

Το σκηνικό στην «παρούσα» εποχή του βιβλίου, ο Μεγάλος Τρόμος ή η Εκκαθάριση του Στάλιν, ήταν ως ένα βαθμό ένα θλιβερό αλλά πιο εύκολο πλαίσιο για να το καταλάβεις, αν αμφιβάλλω ως προς το πόσο ρεαλιστική είναι η εικόνα που σχηματίζει ο Ismailov για τη ζωή στη φυλακή. Ο κύριος χαρακτήρας του, ο Abdulla Qodiriy φαίνεται να ζει στα σύννεφα τις περισσότερες φορές και ενώ οι κρατούμενοι αντιμετωπίζουν την κατάστασή τους με διαφορετικούς τρόπους ο καθένας από ψυχολογική άποψη, δεν έχω πειστεί ότι ο Abdulla ή οι άλλοι κρατούμενοι θα συμπεριφέρονταν με τον τρόπο που περιγράφει ο συγγραφέας. Π.χ. να φτάσουν στο σημείο να διακινδυνεύσουν τη ζωή τους για να αποκτήσουν ουσιαστικά ερευνητικό υλικό για το μυθιστόρημά του Abdulla, πόσο μάλλον οι δεσμοφύλακες ή θα ήταν τόσο αποροφημμένοι από την ιδέα του για αυτό το βιβλίο και την ενασχόληση με περασμένα ιστορικά γεγονότα. Η συμπεριφορά του προσωπικού της φυλακής ήταν συχνά επίσης σουρεαλιστική και υπήρχαν κάποιες πολύ δεικτηκές και τεχνητές σκηνές που δεν μου βγάζαν νόημα.

Το βιβλίο έμοιαζε συχνά πολύ ασύνδετο και μακρόσυρτο, ενώ κι η ποίηση δεν είναι το δυνατό μου σημείο. Επιπλέον, καθώς ένα μεγάλο μέρος της αφήγησης υποτίθεται ότι είναι ένα βιβλίο σε εξέλιξη, η ιστορία μέσα στην ιστορία συχνά ανατρέπεται από μόνη της, η αφήγηση διακόπτεται ή οι σκηνές που υποτίθεται ότι ήταν κρίσιμες δεν εμφανίζονται ποτέ.

Ωστόσο, παρόλα αυτά, εκτίμησα πολύ το παράθυρο που άνοιξε αυτό το βιβλίο σε μια ξένη για μένα κουλτούρα. Μου άρεσαν μέρη του βιβλίου και μου άνοιξε την όρεξη να αναζητήσω πληροφορίες για διάφορα θέματα, πρόσωπα, περιστατικά και διάφορα άλλα πράγματα. Δεν νομίζω ότι είναι κάτι που θα ξαναδιάβαζα σύντομα, αλλά χαίρομαι που το διάβασα!

3+/5

[Maodhog · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thematically, the novel delves into human suffering and the power of literature as a form of resistance. Qodiriy’s creative process within the confines of his prison cell becomes a metaphor for artistic endurance amidst brutality. Ismailov illustrates how literature can transcend time and space, connecting past injustices with contemporary issues such as domestic violence and state oppression. This interplay between personal and political narratives highlights the enduring relevance of Qodiriy’s story.

Ismailov employs a metafictional approach, allowing readers to witness Qodiriy’s internal struggles as he attempts to reconstruct his unwritten masterpiece. The narrative oscillates between reality and imagination, creating a disorienting experience that mirrors Qodiriy’s own mental state. The blending of historical figures with fictional elements enriches the text, transforming it into a tapestry of cultural memory.

The novel is also characterized by its poetic language, drawing on rich traditions of Uzbek literature. Poetry permeates dialogues and inner monologues, serving as both a means of expression and a tool for survival. This emphasis on poetic form not only pays homage to Uzbek literary heritage but also enhances the emotional resonance of the narrative. Critics have noted that Ismailov’s ability to translate complex poetic structures into English is an extraordinary feat, making the text accessible while preserving its lyrical quality.

Oyxon emerges as a compelling figure representing both victimhood and strength. Her experiences reflect the broader struggles faced by women in patriarchal societies, making her resilience a focal point in the narrative. Through her character, Ismailov critiques historical injustices while simultaneously celebrating female agency. The interactions between Qodiriy and Oyxon serve to illustrate how personal narratives can illuminate larger societal issues.

The Devil's Dance stands as a testament to Uzbekistan’s rich literary tradition and its capacity for storytelling despite historical adversities. Ismailov’s work not only revives Qodiriy’s legacy but also invites readers to reflect on contemporary issues within their own societies. By bridging historical contexts with modern realities, Ismailov emphasizes that the struggles depicted in his novel are not confined to the past; they resonate deeply in today’s world.

Hamid Ismailov's The Devil's Dance is an intricate exploration of human nature, creativity, and resilience against oppression. Its rich intertextuality and poetic depth make it a significant contribution to global literature, offering insights into both Uzbek culture and universal themes of suffering and hope.

[Ann Helen · Rating 3 out of 5]

It feels a bit unfair only giving this novel three stars, because it really started to grow on me during the second half of the book, and I have gotten a lot out of reading it. The reason for the three stars is that I struggled in the beginning and wasn't always sure this was a book I wanted to keep reading. At some point in the story this changed and I became completely invested in both storylines. My star rating is more about me as a reader than the actual quality of the novel (which is probably always true - though I do try to bring some objectivity into it - but I can see it more clearly with this one).

For someone with little knowledge of the author's country of origin this was a brilliant novel for gaining knowledge. Both storylines - the jailed author who is a victim of Stalin's Great Terror and the heroine Oyxon who is a victim of Islamic tyranny in the 1800s - is based on historical events. We get to know Uzbek writers and poets, Emirs and their wives and in both timelines we're introduced to actual or potential British spies. Even though this is just a snippet in the country's history, it is a thorough and engaging snippet, which only made me want to read more from Uzbekistan, both novels and non-fiction (if anyone has recommendations, let me know).

I'm not sure which storyline is more terrifying - and they do become somewhat parallel - but we get glimpses of good moments in the characters' lives on occasion. From the little I learned about Uzbekistan during my political science studies, I believe that it is still an authoritarian - though I think not totalitarian - state, so progress towards a free society with significant political and civil rights for it's citizens has been slow, if not non-existent. The author, Hamid Ismailov, can likely relate to his characters' struggles, as he fled the country in 1992 because of his "unacceptable democratic tendencies". I wanted to write my masters thesis on Kyrgyzstan, but ended up writing about Ukraine instead. After reading The Devil's Dance my urge to learn more about the so-called stan-countries has definitely returned.

[Alaa · Rating 5 out of 5]

‎ ساحر توظيف لعبة البوزكاشي في رواية حميد إسماعيلوف الرائعة The Devils’ Dance، عندما آثر الروائي الأوزبكي عبدالله قادري (بطل الرواية) ابتداء روايته بمشهد للبوزكاشي من القرن التاسع عشر —كتشبيه لاقتحام الجنود السوڤييت لبيته واعتقاله أمام زوجته وأطفاله، واختطافه كما لو كان جيفة الماعز الهامدة في اللعبة— بدلاً من مشهد ثمار التوت الناضجة، وهو يقطفها ويضعها خلف أذنه، تقاطع المشهدين في الغلاف الجميل للرواية.

‎هذا الأسلوب الساحر في إعادة قراءة التاريخ في قالب روائي —إسماعيلوف— يتحدث عن روائي —عبدالله قادري— والأخير بدوره يتحدث عن شعراء وأدباء من التاريخ الأدبي الغني لأوزبكستان وآسيا الوسطى.

وكأن حميد إسماعيلوف من منفاه ومن خلال مرآة متهشمة، يبصر من خلالها تداخل الأزمنة والأمكنة، يحاول إعادة كتابة وقراءة ما تستطيع يده الإمساك به من ماضي ذلك المكان—أوزبكستان. كالأطياف التاريخية الخاطفة —من القصص والأساطير التي يتداولها السجناء في زنزانتهم المنتنة— التي ما انفكت تزور عبدالله قادري في السجن وتنتزعه من واقعه المظلم، وهو يحاول التشبث بها.

‎ ينسج إسماعيلوف قصته بدايةً من التراث الشعري والغنائي إلى اللغة نفسها بضمائرها الغريبة إلى الأحداث التاريخية إبان خانية خوقند في عهد محمد عمر خان إلى قصص الجواسيس الروس والبريطانيين في "اللعبة الكبرى" بين الإمبراطوريتين بريطانيا وروسيا في القرن التاسع عشر ومطلع القرن العشرين.

‎في إحدى الجلسات النقاشية التي دارت في السجن انخرط أحد المتحمسين "الحُمر" في تصنيف الأدب الأوزبكي —على أساس الواقعية الاشتراكية— إلى نوعين: نوع إقطاعي رجعي ويمثله الأمير محمد عمر خان، ونوع ديموقراطي تقدمي وتمثله زوجة الأمير الأولى، الشاعرة نادرة بيغوم. نتفاجئ بمشاعر الغضب التي شعر بها عبدالله قادري إزاء هذا التصنيف (المختزل) لذا نراه يقابله -وإن لم يتلفظ بالرد- بالاستهزاء والتهكم على صاحبه، بوق الدعاية السوڤييتية: ولكن سجنك "رفاقك الحُمر"، كبقيتنا.. نحن الأوزبكيون.

‎تحدث إسماعيلوف بأسلوبه الساحر والعذب عن عبدالله قادري في السجن واستعادته لذكريات منزل أحد أصدقائه الكرماء، وليالي السمر مع الرفاق والاستما�� إلى الموسيقى وصوت المغني وهو يلتمس بندائه نسيم الصباح ليحمل إلى الحبيبة الجميلة دعواته.
يختم إسماعيلوف هذا المشهد الحزين، لعبدالله قادري في سجنه، يعذبه الجوع وتقهره الوحدة، بالسؤال:
من —غير الأوزبكي— سيفهم ذلك؟

الرواية تحمل عنوان إحدى قصص الأديب عبدالله قادري نفسه. في السجن اقترح عليه المؤرخ الأوزبكي الكبير فطرت، في حالة كتبت له الحرية، كتابة رواية عن تجربته في السجن، عن الأذى على يد المستجوب تريغولوف، عن الغرفة رقم 42، لكن قادري ارتجل قائلاً بأنه من المستحيل أن يخرج الأدب من رحم الموت الذي لا معنى له —السجون السوڤييتية. الأدب يخرج فقط من رحم الحب، والحب هو القوة التي تهب الحياة للأدب.

‎رواية رائعة من روائي رائع.

[Desca Ang · Rating 4 out of 5]

This review is taken from my IG account @descanto

Been in a slow book-review-mode these days. I read a lot but I am just freaking lazy these days to post my review on IG or my blog. Anyway, been reading Tilted Axis books also so far. And one of them is this book.

It follows the life of the Uzbek writer, Abdulla Qodiriy who is thrown to jail at the start of the novel. During his imprisonment, he reconstructs the book he was trying to finish writing and it’s about queen Oyhon. It’s not easy following the pros, the cons, and the political supremacy during Stalin’s regime. Abdulla will have to deal with his mental state also to finish writing the book. Abdulla is like the Uzbek version of Pramoedya Ananta Toer.

The Devil Dance by Hamid Ismailov is not an easy reading. It takes an extra effort just to finish it. It seems to be a novel of two disconnected stories. Yet once you read it, you will realise that both stories are connected, intersected and intertwined. There are fictional yet real characters in the novel. The most intriguing one is the figure of Oyxon, an Uzbek poet queen who was married to three khans. You will see many cultural and historical sections in this novel.

What I love the most is the parts where Ismailov serve the poems into our plate as a reader. Those poems remind me of the lines in Song of Salomon. So sensual, so sexy, so erotic yet aren’t trashy!

Another good point of the novel is the translation. Rayfield has made put a great effort also in translating Ismailov. He really turned it into something which is not only beautiful but also digestible for us to read.

The book was a gift from my wonderful Ibu @ann_m_bowen Thank you, Ibu. My Malcolm and I look forward to meeting you and your Malcolm soon.

BOOK 7: THE DEVIL’S DANCE BY HAMID ISMAILOV for my #ReadTiltedAxis Month
Translated by: Donald Rayfield
📍Uzbekistan
Published by @tiltedaxisbooks @tiltedaxispress

[Octavia Cade · Rating 3 out of 5]

I enjoyed this, but I have to wonder if I would like it better if I had more familiarity with the history and culture involved. There are really two stories going on here: the first, which frames the narrative, is a fictionalised account of the imprisonment and subsequent execution of the Uzbek writer Abdulla Qodiriy in one of Stalin's many purges of people who might have disagreed with him even once, or could potentially do so in the future. I've had a similar story published on the Soviet biochemist Lina Stern, who was also persecuted in this way (but who thankfully survived) so I was interested to read a longer and more writer-centric version. Qodiriy was apparently working on his own historical novel, also set in Uzbekistan, at the time of his arrest. This work has been lost, and Ismailov tries to recreate it, having Qodiriy plotting out the story during his detention... but the stories begin to blur together, as deprivation, torture, and fear make Qodiriy stumble through his own creation.

It's very cleverly done - or at least I can see it's been cleverly done, even if I don't understand the extent of the cleverness. There's clearly a lot of historical and literary resonance here that I just don't get - time to add some central Asian history books to my to-read pile - and that's especially so when it comes to the poetry that's been included here. Uzbekistan, apparently, has a long and distinguished history of poetry, and of course I don't know anything about that either (I say with exasperation, annoyed at my own ignorance). Oh well, more background reading for me to do, then. As it is, there are times when I found this a little scattered, a little too fragmented... but I'm pretty sure it's my own lack of understanding that's contributing most to this impression.

[Connor Owen · Rating 3 out of 5]

🇺🇿 Uzbekistan #27 of Read a Book from Every Country (thanks El xx)

At parts it very much felt like the Uzbek Canterbury Tales. Lots of characters contributing lots of stories.

Ismailov’s book is a reimagining of the final lost manuscript (Emir Umar’s Slave Girl) of one of Uzbekistan’s foremost twentieth-century novelists, Abdulla Qodiriy, before he was imprisoned and executed as an alleged enemy of the Soviet state under Joseph Stalin’s Great Purge. Hence, this is a story within a story.

I only realised halfway through reading that this was a book of historical fiction. The main characters were real people.

There were a noticeable number of typos and word omissions throughout the text, which further editing could have easily fixed. I think for this reason alone this book has to settle for a 3 rather than a 4.

A selection of memorable (mainly for bad reasons) quotes:

'The reason I'm asking is that our noble father fell ill so suddenly. And our brother Emir Husayn's life was destroyed when he was in his prime. Could your chef have had a hand in this?' Nasrullo's questions had taken the tone of an interrogation.
'Good God, no!' the vizier exclaimed, reining in the conversation again. 'He's a pious man, the only things he worries about are pastry and heaven.’
- Reading this hurt looooool

“[W]hen we were in our mother's womb, didn't we have a prick? And when we were being born, that prick touched our mother's vagina. Why is it permitted then, but forbidden later?”
-🤮

“After all this had happened, Madali acquired the nick-name, whispered in the wind, of Madali the Motherfucker.”

“Rohila was as beautiful as the moon, the mere sight of her smile was enough to leave a man bewitched, mind and soul. Her […] mouth was as tiny as a ring for a little finger, her navel could hold a cupful of oil, her buttocks were like two heavy bags of sand”
- what a girl

[Altynai · Rating 1 out of 5]

I am writing this review with heavy heart. One star is rating for my subjective experience, not the for the writing itself. I was eager to read the entire Central Asian trilogy, because I read the author's biography and I was sure that I will like Ismailov's books. I was disappointed by this book, but I switched to his other texts and I am more happy with them.
The issues here:
1. Translation. Sometimes it is just off. For example, a prison guard call a prisnor "boss". I suppose in the original text the word is similar to "mister"/"signor"/"monsieur". I would translate it as "mister", but the translator choose the word "boss". Nevertheless, the author states that he is happy with his translator. So perhaps it wont be that bad for other readers.
Moreover, some poetry cited in the book was mostly likely written in Arabic or Persian. And it was translated to Uzbek, then translated to English. I suppose there is some stuff lost in the double translation.
2. Lack of annotations for international readers. I suppose, the text was written in Uzbek for Uzbek readers who know all the poets, writers, rulers and their relatives mentioned in the text. If there were annotations and charts with all the relations between characters it would be easier to follow. All these people are new for many international readers.
I wish I could enjoy this book and the other two in the trilogy, but the reading experience of this edition is not that great.

[Susan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Read this extraordinary book online while I was traveling in Uzbekistan. As the author has been banished from his homeland, I'm sure I would not have been allowed to bring this novel into the country. The book takes place in three different time frames and all mesh into an intriguing whole. Most engaging is the main character, picked up by the police for no known reason, during the '30's when the country was part of the repressive Soviet Union. He is a writer of fiction and aware that he can be jailed at any time, for any reason. We meet his fellow prisoners and hear about the novels he has been writing and continue to write while imprisoned.

[Diane · Rating 4 out of 5]

Written by a Uzbek author, this book is set during Stalin's purges of the late 1930s. The story centers around an author who is arrested and imprisoned while he is trying to write a novel about a 19th century Uzbek ruler. The book goes back and forth between that story and the present one. The writing is really beautiful, and the story kept my interest, but I found the story within a story somewhat confusing. I think it would have benefitted from an introduction that provided some background to the reader on the time period. I should probably reread it to gain a better understanding.

[Leslie (updates on SG) · Rating 4 out of 5]

This recent winner of the 2019 ERBD Literature Prize makes me thankful for my AtW reading challenge. Ismailov's work is challenging if like me, you don't know much about the Great Game or 19th-century Turkestanian court culture. However, the language and poetry are lovely, and the novel makes me want to learn more about these topics. I also hope this book spurs English translations of other Uzbek works, especially by this novel's protagonist, Abdulla Qodiriy.

[pennyg · Rating 3 out of 5]

A tragic and clever story within a story that seemed almost to merge the further along you go. Unfortunately I didn't get on with the writing and/or translation. Its a very sad story and should elicit some emotion but I just wasn't feeling it. It's certainly a praised and most likely worthwhile read but just not for me.

[Ana · Rating 5 out of 5]

The beauty and sadness here is immense. Ismailov writes of Abdulla Qodiriy, the beloved Uzbek author of the early 20th century, and imagines his time in Soviet prison as he dreams up the final chapters of the last novel the world never read, with flashes of past queens and spies and the epistles of the Great Game. I cried rivers.