An award–winning “satirical political thriller follows the . . . adventures of a Russian gem cutter . . . and the consequences of his affair with a virtual stranger.”(Publishers Weekly)

Professor Anfilogov, a wealthy and emotionless man, sets out on an expedition to unearth priceless rubies that no one else has been able to locate. His expedition reveals ugly truths about man’s disregard for nature and the disasters created by insatiable greed. In 2017, winner of the Russian Booker Prize, Olga Slavnikova stuns with a witty, engaging, and remarkable tale of love, obsession, murder, and the lengths people will go to get what they want.

“Slavnikova’s characters are magnetizing, and her crystal clear vision of a world in which ‘commercial infinities’ choke off humanism and art is salubriously caustic.” —Booklist

2017 true to its Russian roots, is not easy to wrestle into submission. The story alternates between Krylov, a gemcutter looking for love, and his mentor Professor Anfilogov, looking for gems in the wilds of the Riphean Mountains (a region loosely based on the Ural Mountains). In 2017, earth spirits as devious as Puck and as beautiful as Titania intervene in the quests of both Krylov and Anfilogov. Those looking for the remnants of the Communist Revolution of 1917 will find its echos in this novel's class distinctions and the determination of each character to pursue their individual (rather than communal) passions with greed and determination. While reading this book leaves me weary, it's a good weary -- the kind you feel after an intense workout. ( )

2017 is one of those complex satirical observations about society and the human condition where everything is symbolic, and those go right over my head. Definitely similar to Bulgakov and in minor ways to Gilliam's Brazil. (I'm the only person who didn't care for Brazil, so take that into account in my lukewarm response to this book.) Everyone is dour and amoral and mostly unpleasant in that classically Russian way, but at least they have plenty of historical justification for their attitude, unlike the bored Manhattanites of most contemporary literature.

Surprisingly, a lot of the fantasy elements set up in the beginning never worked their way into the plot. The inevitable revolution was oddly desultory, in a way that wasn't fully explained by the main character's analysis of its causes.

Somehow (at least in my pre-release copy), the first chapter or so is an almost unreadable jumble but then it smooths out into some real poetry. Everything is described with at least one metaphor. The girlfriend and ex-wife had similar enough names that I'd mix them up and have to start sections over again; that may have been due to a lack of real engagement with the story.

The main character seemed to be a pretty poor judge of character and thus every conversation had two levels -- what he thought people were saying and what I thought they were saying. (Then again, maybe the poor judge was me, but it did make things interesting.) Either the author or translator is very fond of the word antediluvian. ( )

I wanted to like this book. I really did. Let me start by saying that I love Russian fiction, especially that of the Golden and Silver Age. And I've seen a lot of other reviewers who have made similar comments - they love Russian fiction, they're avid readers of Russian fiction, but they couldn't get into this book. I think I'm starting to understand what the problem is...

What we typically think of as "Russian fiction" tends to be fiction written by Russians in the Imperial or early Soviet period. This is an entirely different animal (in my opinion) than fiction written during the high Soviet period (conforming to the so-called "Soviet realist" style), or post-Soviet fiction. Before I received this book, I had read somewhere that the novel compared to Mikhail Bulgakov. Though Bulgakov was active during the era of Soviet realism, he remained true to his own literary vision, a move that would ultimately cost him his career. While 2017 has the element of the fantastic and the commentary on government and society, elements that are frequently present in Bulgakov's works, the novel utterly lacks all of Bulgakov's charm and flow and literary "oomph", for lack of a better description. When I read Bulgakov, he makes me understand why his words are important. He makes me understand the weight of what he has to say and why he has to say it that precise manner. I didn't feel the author's urgency in 2017 at all. I don't want to be overly harsh, but I don't know why she wrote this, or why she wrote it in this style. I have no notion as to what her intentions are.

I would much sooner compare 2017 to Viktor Pelevin's works, Pelevin being another post-Soviet fiction writer and past winner of Russia's "Little Booker" prize. I also found the author's writing style, even in translation, to be very "Pelevin-esque." I've read a lot of comments regarding the translation, and I have to agree that it makes for a really clunky piece of prose. I speak and read Russian, and there were numerous passages that could have been translated more smoothly. And if that is evident to me, it was surely evident to a professional translator. I can only surmise that the translation is an attempt to remain true to the overall style of the work. I have not read 2017 in Russian, but I have read Pelevin in the original, and I can tell you that the style is extremely odd. His sentences are very long, it's often difficult to connect the focus of one sentence to the next, and there are instances where it's very tricky to puzzle out the true subject of a sentence. He also invents a lot of words that aren't normally used in Russian (or any other language). I saw a lot of that happening in the English translation of this novel. I will say that it is extremely difficult to translate something that is of a very particular style and manage to keep that style intact through a translation, so kudos to the translator.

In the end, it's all well and good to maintain the true style of a piece, but this particular brand of post-Soviet fiction is not everyone's cup of tea. I know it isn't mine. ( )

I’ve not read any modern Russian fiction, so I was intrigued by this book and was pleased to score a copy from Library Thing’s Early Review program. But, now, at page 192 of 414, all I can say is “meh.”

2017 has a lot of ingredients that I love. It takes place in Russia in 2017, 100 years after the Revolution. There’s an expedition to the Riphean mountains to find a hidden vein of rubies—a bit of magical realism creeps in here in the figure of the Mistress of the Mountain. There’s a strange relationship between the gem-cutter Krylov and a mysterious woman who calls herself Tanya. It’s not a bad plot, as plots go. And there are some comic touches. So much to like, but…

Even though this novel has a lot of the right ingredients, I can’t bring myself to take an interest in it. Part of the problem is the writing. The paragraphs are long, the vocabulary sometimes needlessly complex. At times, the descriptive language is gorgeous, but it’s just as likely to turn toward the purple or the clunky.

For me, what this book really lacks is passion. All the characters are so flat. Even Krylov and Tanya’s affair is depicted as something perfunctory, not something rooted in wild lust. I suspect this flatness is meant to be satirical in some way, but it’s a satire that I don’t think translates well. Such dull, passionless characters only really work for me when the narrator shows some spirit or humor, but the narration is just as flat as the characterization.

So, folks, I’m calling it. I’m not really hating it; I’m just filled with unconcern, and when there are so many books and so little time, a book that inspires nothing but apathy is a waste of my time.

See my complete thoughts at Shelf Love.