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Rating:
I read some reviews online about "Jimi Hendrix in Lviv" and you know what? I have my doubts that some critics have actually read this book written by Kurkov two years before the 2014 revolution. They're all the same in their haziness and inconsistency. They ultimately say nothing: they talk about major themes, surrealism, the author's sharp satire, even Jimi Hendrix's soundtrack (???) and the importance of the Central European city of Lviv, which provides the backdrop to bizarre events that unfold. I'm sitting here reading and thinking a nice quote all'infarto about the atmosphere of “The Master and Margarita” by Bulgakov is missing. And there it is, sure enough, it’s mentioned!
Taras is his name. It’s 2012 and he drives a wrecked car hurtling at a reckless speed through the night on the slippery and dilapidated roads of a rainy Lviv. The driver is a “near doctor” slash nurse who makes ends meet by freeing his clients, mostly Polish, from excruciating kidney stones through the violent vibrations he subjects them to. Basically, he tortures them all night and then gets paid in Zlotys as soon as they urinate out the stones. But he doesn't give them back those precious stones expelled at such a high price, because he collects them; the most incredible ones in shape and size he gifts to his girlfriend Darka, who works at a nighttime currency exchange. Their love story is a crescendo of moving sweetness with the aroma of coffee drunk from an ashtray.
One night, Taras is forced to slam on the brakes with his Opel to avoid ending the life of poor former hippie Alik, who, half drunk, was heading home supported by former KGB service captain Rjabcev. But what the hell were a former KGB and an aged former hippie doing together in the dead of night? But of course: they were fans of Jimi Hendrix and had gathered at a cemetery to celebrate the memory of the god of the 6 strings. Completing the picture is Alik's neighbor, an ex-hairdresser who’s somewhat dazed and romantic, and a friend, a former writer with a twisted mind perpetually searching for a magnetic protagonist for a new novel. I forgot... there’s also a friend of his who might have been his ex, upon reflection. Basically, in this book, everyone's an ex, as if they were waiting to take ownership of their present.
True, the nocturnal atmospheres manage to captivate the reader, but what fascinated me most is the description of the characters who seem so apparently quirky and ridiculous yet so profound and melancholic that they only seem comedic and out of place at first glance. In reality, they are proud, dignified in their poverty, and generous: they seem resigned to the course of events, as if they've definitively lost their balance, and yet, instead of falling, they always manage to miraculously regain their step, helping each other with whatever they can find. Vodka included.
As for the plot, the fight to prevent the return of the Carpathian Sea to Lviv and the advent of killer seagulls, I don't care much: it's a pretext to serve as a backdrop. Through this story with its syncopated rhythm and its protagonists, Kurkov tells us about his wounded people, the contradictions of a complex country contested for centuries. And he does it with great acumen, intelligence, and mastery.
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