The Man Who Couldn't Die

The Man Who Couldn't Die is an interesting piece, but it's probably not going to be one that appeals to all readers. It is a deeply introspective work that considers not only the human psyche and metaphysical conundrums but also modern-era politics. In the latter respect it is a timely work, as it could also be said to represent more recent events in the Western world. I enjoyed the dilemmas the piece posed; however, at times I felt somewhat distanced from the characters. I would have liked to have established a stronger connection with them. Then again, that separation may have been a conscious decision on the part of the author. Either way, this is not an 'easy' or light read, so I would only recommend it to those who like a good dose of heavy introspection and philosophy in their literary fiction.

With the death of the Soviet Union, a loving family have to contrive to keep it alive in their family home, making it look like nothing had changed for their ill elder member, who would be too aggrieved of the change they remain ignorant of.  They even have to conspire to make their own TV news, and maintain the drudgery of Communism, while outside their four walls the country bursts into progress, happiness and newfound freedom.  That, obviously, is Goodbye Lenin!, but oddly the same situation is evident here, as a WW2 veteran with a stroke remains in bedbound ignorance of Brezhnev's death, and any futuristic alterations in the outside world.  The two scenarios are remarkably alike – although I don't think anybody would accuse Russia of bursting into happiness.

What this book does is burst into the oh-so typical modernist style, of over-long, overly-complex sentences, to disguise lack of narrative.  There really are swathes of this that could be ignored for the sake of the core story, of what happens when family members get caught up in political things.  I found it hard to justify staying with this at times, as I also found it hard to understand the political sides and whose machinations were against whom.  The result of it all is that, paradoxically after I bemoaned the lack of story, the end scene felt like too much of a rush to justify it all.  This dense, literary read is an acquired taste.  One and a half stars – I'll stick with my film, which is easy to say as it's my favourite of all time.

Wonderful prose, weaving a bleak atmosphere. It is not easy to relate to the 'why's' of liking this book. At points I certainly did not, but that was okay somehow.

Excellent writing in language and style.  The translation seems to keep the original’s detail.  It seems almost modernist in the lack of dialog and concentration introspective.  There is the acquired taste of Soviet literature in this late novel.  It is almost like the isolation and sudden freedom in life is reflected in literature.