Russia-love

I just finished reading Ian Frazier's "Travels in Siberia." I tried "On the Rez" a few weeks ago and didn't get beyond page 4. (I had been in search of the former at the librarylast month, and didn't find it, so settled for the latter.) This book was a totally difference experience for me. I found myself, near the end, trying to gauge my progress so that I would end up with plenty to read right before bed-time, but not so much that I couldn't finish a chapter. Last night I mis-judged and wound up with a little left over this morning. But as it turns out there were notes and a bibliography and an index as well as thank-yous in the final pages. So I was able to finish the book this morning at breakfast and still get to my office not-too-late! It was kind of like planning the eating of a meal so that you have just the right amount of each, meat, veg, starch, so that you finish up everything at the same time, or like having your burger and fries and ketchup all finish up together. Once in a while my reading of a really good book elicits this same desire, for it to wind up when I'm ready for it, and not before. (Please be gentle in judging my eating and reading quirks.)

I realized as soon as I read the words that I share the "Russia-love" malady with Frazier. I'm not really sure when it set in. It could have been when I started collecting stamps, 40 years ago. It was definitely infesting my soul (though still un-named) by the time Libby and I hosted a charming pair of Russian girls (ages 9-10) as part of a mission-exchange when we lived in Richmond. The girls brought with them darling little trinkets that we (but mostly I) still have. The idealism I once imposed on that nation has now been tempered, but my desire to visit is no less strong.

I was struck by Frazier's experience of traveling across Siberia by van in comparison with our recent visit to Chattanooga. His experience of litter, restrooms, hotels and urban areas in generally was in marked contrast to what we, and pretty much any person traveling in the US can experience. I think he called the general tenor of the nation "incomplete grandiosity" near the end of the book; contrast that with what might be termed America's "adolescent swagger."

Don't get me wrong, I have no interest in traveling through Siberia. But a trip to western Russia is definitely on my bucket list. In the interim this book was a wonderful surrogate. I could have done without that mercifully short "telescoped" writing about 3/4 of the way through. But I haven't enjoyed a narrative travelogue so much since I devoured Robert Kaplan's oeuvre a few years ago. I'll have to try again with "On the Rez" and Frazier's other books here soon.