Customer Reviews

God Lives in St. Petersburg: and Other Stories

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Everyone who reads this exhilarating dervish of a book will first be struck by its courage and its timeliness, by how presciently and precisely it tells us what we need, but might not want, to know about the far reaching impact of American adventurism abroad. His characters blunder into Central America for a number of reasons, both selfish and altruistic, and yet in no instance does Bissell shy from tracing out the full and unexpected consequences of such meddling. Other reviewers have already praised the book on this account, and I suspect the string of Amazon reviews that will begin to accumulate here will continue to explore this aspect of the book. But this is also, first and foremost, a book of high literary achievement. Literature is not political commentary but rather a way of experiencing political existence within the charged and always unstable context of art. As such, each piece here is a wonder of accumulated detail, of complex characterization, of carefully designed form. Donk, the Michigan born photographer in "Death Defier," is both a way for Bissell to explore the complexity of our sojourn in Afghanistan as well as a fully fleshed character in his own right who, with gut wrenching memories of his dying father, confronts his own death with a level of terror and dignity that becomes universal paradoxically because of its particularity. Douglas and Jayne, the sophisticated and clueless New Yorkers who take an "Expensive Trip Nowhere" to Kazakhstan, transform in the course of their story from poster children for American naivete to a couple confronting their horrifying limitations, a recognition that is both psychic and political without ever being tendentious. (The story also cleverly and devilishly updates Hemingway's "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber," as the author forcefully points out in his afterword. No mean feat, that.) The only story that does not work totally for me as a piece of fiction, "Aral," falters only in its overeagerness to make a statement-specifically about the tragedy of the Soviet destruction of the Aral Sea, an issue Bissell treats at more length in his superb travelogue, "Chasing the Sea." So yes, this is an immensely important work, one that uncategorically deserves all the hosannahs it has already begun to receive and will continue to receive. But let's not overlook the fact that this story collection also heralds the arrival of a literary artist of the higher caliber. You probably have to go back to Philip Roth's "Goodbye, Columbus" for a proper analogue.

Tom Bissell is fond of sprinkling aphorisms throughout the stories in this fine collection, so let's lay one on him: Only a young man with his entire life stretched out before him could afford to be so pessimistic about life's possibilities.

Granted, he's writing about places it's easy to be pessimistic about, god-forsaken Central Asian Republics spawned by the collapse of the Soviet Empire, places that are a "combo of Soviet paranoia and Muslim xenophobia" as one character puts it. Five of the collection's six stories follow this pattern: take a (young) American; drop him or her into a central Asian country; stir; chronicle the resulting disaster.

The first story, Death Defier, is probably the best. A free-lance American photographer gets caught in a difficult situation in Afghanistan while trying to help a British reporter felled by a virulent strain of malaria. The story poses an interesting question: can you dive so deeply into the mechanics and aesthetics of war that you become immune to death-terror? Bissell grapples honorably with the complex sensibility of war correspondents, people who are voyeuristic and deeply engaged, often at the same time. Aral is about Amanda, an American biologist sent by the United Nations to study the shrinking Aral Sea (a hall of fame ecological screw-up). Amanda consistently misreads the intent of the people around her. She displays that combustible American mix of idealism, aggressiveness and ignorance of the local culture that's served us so well in Vietnam and Iraq.

Expensive Trips Nowhere and The Ambassador's Son are ugly American stories. In an Author's Note, Bissell acknowledges his debt to Hemingway's The Short, Happy Life of Francis Macomber for Expensive Trips Nowhere, which is about courage or the lack thereof on the steppes of Kazakhstan. The Ambassador's Son is about what you'd get if you dropped the Jay McInerney of Bright Lights, Big City into the capital of Tashkent. It should be noted that Bissell writes well about sex, giving it neither more nor less significance than the situation he's describing merits. The final story, Animals in Our Lives, is the only one set in America. Franklin, a recently returned expat English teacher, and Elizabeth, a med student, spend an afternoon at the zoo and experience the moment when it comes clear they don't have a future with each other. It's a sensitive rendering of the kinds of pain your intellect can't protect you from.

The title story, which won a Pushcart Prize, is about Timothy, a missionary in Samarkand whose faith gets subverted by physical urges. Bissell gets the succumbing to temptation part just right, along with the heartbreaking juxtaposition of sex with hope that pervades the world's downtrodden places. What's missing is a visceral sense of the struggle to hold on to God. God may not live in St Petersburg, but Dostoievksi did, and the master understood that sin gains heft through the hubris of the sinner. Something enormous was at stake for Dostoievski's spiritual criminals; they pitched themselves willingly on to the pyre, inviting and accepting oblivion for their defiance. Timothy settles for the tiny oblivion of orgasm, then sits in a fug of post-coital remorse waiting for God to ring him up. He's simply not a big enough person to carry his part of the argument, so the story falls short of the tragic dimension it tries to achieve.

There's a lot to like about Bissell as a writer. He's willing to engage with far-off, difficult cultures, and willing to wrestle with big ideas like death and sin. He writes a prose that's both erudite and plainspoken, which is hard to do. He can be both trenchant and expansive in his observations, often in the same well-turned phrase. His efforts to describe the ways in which the personal and political infuse and alter one another takes him into territory mined so productively by Graham Greene. While each of the individual stories may not be perfectly realized, it feels like there's something at stake here, maybe something important.

He's an author work rooting for, and I'd definitely buy his next book.

Bissell, who is very young (born in 1974)to be writing short stories with this kind of wisdom, worked as a Peace Corps volunteer near the Aral Sea and has used his experiences in South Central Asia and Eastern Europe, delving into the lives of journalists haunted by demons, searchers, spoiled rich brats, do-gooders, criminals, sociopaths, and a litany of misfits to produce a rare feat of fiction--literary short stories that have the feel of expose. He takes you into the heart of modern day Afghanistan, for example, in his story "Death Defier," where an American journalist, haunted by family demons, appears to be a courageous photographer of truth on one hand and a man with a death wish on the other. In "Aral," his story that more than the others ventures into exposition and polemic, a nihilistic KGB officer lectures an American biologist UN worker about the "fat souls" of Americans who, for all their platitudes, know nothing of real suffering before subjecting the woman to a little trial of her own. In "The Ambassador's Son" a rogue narrates his licentious exploits and the manner in which he corrupts a Christian missionary.

Amazingly, these stories can be peeled layer upon layer for their psychological depth while at the same time they percolate with the buzz of the chaos that we read about in the daily newspapers and blogs. A great achievement.

As I read, I was looking at the structural underpinnings of theses stories. I was interested in what happened to a story that was told in a foreign land. What role does place play in the exotic story? How does a writer balance the need to explain the exotic with the need tell a story? What stories can be told only in an exotic land and why?

And of course, there were no real answers. In some of the stories ("Aral," and to a lesser degree, "Death in Defier") place is integral to the telling of the story. The place is an import part of the plot and is treated as another character that acts within (or upon) the story. Place influences the lives of the characters and their decisions. The movement of the story depends on the place. It is difficult to imagine the story unfolding in any other location, just like it is difficult to imagine the same story with different characters. Change the place and you change the story.

Other stories ("The Ambassador's Son," "God Lives in St. Petersburg," "Expensive Trips Nowhere") are less dependent on place. The real action in the story involves the characters. Although the stories unfold in Central Asia, they could (perhaps) just as easily take place in Africa, Mexico, or rural Alabama. The stories are character driven.

It is also interesting to see how politics are woven into the stories. The characters in "Death in Defier" all hold different political views, and those views are drawn in contrast to the shared reality of life between Mazar and Kunduz.

I also noticed that although place can have some of the same characteristics in a story as character, they are not the same. And even if you have a character that is moving through and engaging with an exotic landscape, it is not the same dynamic as characters interacting with one another. A character interacting with an exotic place is not nearly as interesting, from the perspective of engaging fiction, as characters interacting with one another. Even in the stories that depend on place, it is still the character that carries the story forward.

There is also the issue of back-story. It can really slow the action, particularly in the short story. But back-story seems sometimes vital in developing character and motivation. Bissell does not shy away from back-story, nor does he seem to have a problem with switching POV. In "Expensive Trips Nowhere," the POV switches among the three characters. Back-story stretches across pages and between characters. The main event of the story, an attempted high-country mugging, is actually told as back-story. And I am not sure if it works. This sort of forward, back, in and out, motion certainly does not make for a clean narrative trajectory. And there is some information that is redundant (like the guide's twice told history of service in Afghanistan). But I can also say that I found the story engaging and did not get the sense that it ever stalled.

All in all this is a great collection. And it can be simply enjoyed by an adventure seeking reader, or mined by the beginning writer for craft.

This book touches on a subject of life in the former soviet republics in asia and Afghanistan. It is predictabely grim, yet author tries to make the stories unique and interesting to read. I liked the stories for their exposition of desperation in peoples lives. Having been born in the former soviet union myself I can attest to how alien that world is. There a note in the book that indeed much has happened since the stories were written and it should be noted that oil wealth has changed the situation for very few people but has transformed the main capitals.

It's possible I'm biased because of my interest in Central Asia. I'm not sure how this book would be received by someone with no interest in the region, but I suspect it would still be a great read.

For me, this was the first book in a long time that brought out the 'just a few more pages' type of mentality that keeps you reading until the wee hours of the morning (it's a short book though, so start it early in the day so you don't stay up too late!).

One of the greatest parts of this is how each story seems to speak to a different part of me.

I really enjoyed it. And with the used prices below a dollar, I think you'd be missing out not to pick it up.

From the first few pages of this book, we know we are reading a master who knows the facts in Afghanistan and the smaller new nations just north of it , and south of Russia. Every yarn is unique, some with tons of black humor, others placing you right inside the Afghan war. The first tells of a journalist trying his best to get some penicillin for his malaria sticken pal, including risking his life in a mad rush near the battlesgrounds, to a supposed plant/field that can kill the disease. The end is shocking, and horrific. In "The Ambassador's Son" we are inside the wild west flavor of a new "Istan" nation,including some of the zaniest writing imaginable. To compare this author with Hemingway, Kiplang, and Greene is indeed not a stretch. In fact, I even prefer this short collection to many of the past "Classics" of foreign intrigue and war.

These are smart, humorous, readable, and compassionate stories that insert you easily into their characters and their characters' foreign experiences. We're lucky to have a writer as talented as Bissell to give us a window into the ex-Soviet republics of Central Asia, of which most Americans will know little except for their connection to Afghanistan. I was disappointed to read that Bissell's next book will be about Vietnam.

Death Defier, Expensive Trips, The Ambassador's Son, and Animals are all terrific in very different ways. The prize winning title story, God Lives in St Petersburg, was a little too bleak for me.

I agree with the Amazon reviewer who felt that "Aral", maybe didn't work completely as fiction. The story aims for the point where one character tells us they had wished to communicate to Americans the tragedy of the Aral - much as Bissell might like to bring this same message to his American readers. Unfortunately I fear the character is correct and `showing the Americans' will not matter. I know from my daughter's experience in Turkmenistan (where she was a Peace Corps Volunteer - a Do-Gooder in the language of "The Ambassador's Son") that of the many problems these struggling countries face (some of which if you're interested are: corrupt governments, rampant bribery, disease, lack of education/sanitation/good health-care, unemployment, ethnic tensions), water is among the biggest.