Customer Reviews

Inherit the Family: Marrying into Eastern Europe stories by Vello Vikerkaar

5 star:		(3)
4 star:		(2)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

I'll get the one negative thing out of the way first - the cover's a bit nondescript and the title it bears is a bit misleading, if only because it might cause those unfamiliar with Vello's work to expect one of those godawful "aren't-they-amusing-and-rather-Ruritanian" travelogues written by people from the Sunday supplements who think patronising sarcasm extended for long enough eventually forms a kind of insight.

In fact Vello's book is the exact opposite of such flimsy offerings from writers who define themselves as outside observers. He hasn't swanned into Estonia for a couple of weeks, he has committed to the place 24/7. He's an outsider trying to be an insider but only making small, slow, advances. The painful rate of progress periodically leads to massive frustration which explodes in a sort of impotent, absurd exasperation.

There are plenty of comic situations that only real life could possibly throw up, including a memorable life or death struggle over a rabbit hutch and musings on the geo-economic factors that result in a covertly homosexual companion for Barbie being foisted on Eastern Europe.

Vello also debunks a few myths. If this book actually gets into the hands of locals they may finally realise that the foreigners living among them are generally much less interesting and intelligent than they give them credit for, and that foreign journalists in particular are more likely to be hopeless hacks than secret service men.

But best of all Vello exhibits the brevity and discpline in his writing that is a direct result of being a newspaper columnist rather than a mere blogger. Vello's columns are lean, funny and quick.

The brevity of each self-contained chapter makes them perfect bathroom reading material. Saying they are the ideal accompaniment to a bowel movement may not be something Vello will appreciate overly, but honestly there is no greater endorsement I can give them as a large part of my literary education takes place on porcelain.

Ultimately I think Vello protests a little too much about his inability to fit in with a varied set of dramatis personae which includes a whores' choir, numerous semi-comatose tradesmen and the genuinely surreal unexplained acts of assorted relatives. He's much more of a genuine Estonian than he likes to let on.

Whereas Lithuanians go for slapstick and Latvians laugh at broad farce, the Estonians seem to have a dry irony that frequently manifests itself in self-deprecation and is actually rather sophisticated. And that's the attitude Vello captures so well.

Inherit The Family also has one of the best opening lines I've read for a long time, so buy it for someone you know and make them laugh on the toilet. That way it doesn't even matter if they wet themselves.

Vello Vikerkaar is one of Estonia's most controversial columnists. His insights into Estonian life both arouse praise from readers who are captivated by his honesty and raw sense of humor, as well as criticism from some for whom his tales are a little too forthcoming as they reveal an uglier side of Estonia they'd prefer was kept private. No matter which side you are on, you have to admit the style is inspiring. It is lean, up front, and spiced with smart dialog. Nobody complains that Vello isn't fun to read; they just can't help but fight over what he says.

A positive aspect of this book is that Vello moves pretty smoothly from a weekly column format to a book format. Although the columns here are largely reprinted as they first appeared, the appealing layout of the book, and perhaps even the way in which the columns, re-imagined as chapters, are ordered, made it easy for me as a reader to move from one topic to another. I easily finished half of the book in a few hours, and because this is not a novel, I could return the next day to where I had left off and not feel that I had lost any of the book's underlying rhythm.

In summary, as a reader, I recommend this book to you. So many writers get lost in the details and you can feel that you are drowning in a swamp of entertaining but ultimately useless information because, surprise, writers like to write, maybe too much. Vello's book is not a swamp. It's like the Lincoln Tunnel on a Sunday morning, you can drive right through and always be a little amazed by the experience.

My one criticism is that so many of Vello's characters are cashiers, government clerks, taxi drivers, bartenders, and other providers of services. While lackluster service in Estonia is a theme of the book, such characters commonly appear in works by other writers in the region. Do writers just not get out enough, or is society so atomized in northern Europe that most human interaction really does occur between rude waiters and hungry diners? I can't pretend I know the answer to this question. Maybe it's an idea for another scandalous Vello column.

I was happy with how the book was described prior to my purchasing it. I gave it to my father to read to Mum who is 88 and came to NZ from Estonia after the war. She was not impressed by some of the stories but they delighted my father who is NZ born and not Estonian. Maybe we could see what Mum could not? An entertaining read and very close to home!

If you've ever thought of scrapping everything, moving to Estonia, and falling in love, this is the book for you.

Would this be a wise course of action? You will meet witches, silent but dangerous relatives, and suspicious rabbits, shady business propositions.

Even if you're not planning to decamp to the former Eastern bloc, read it anyway. Nobody tells this story better than Vello!

Anyone with a sensible and mature attitude to Estonia should ignore Kairus' ill-informed review. I write as one of the "kind of people the author has surrounded himself with" i.e. someone who has actually upped sticks and moved to Estonia to share their lives with the fate of the country and its people. Vello's stories were first published in Estonian in Eesti Ekspress, a leading weekly, and he is regarded here as someone who will venture opinions that are sometimes controversial but always well meaning and stimulating. "Spoiled little Soviet girl" is one such piece.

"Soviet girl" certainly contains an element of truth. Many Estonians have a "you pretend to work and we pretend to pay you" attitude not just at holiday time but also all the year round and many westerners, rightly or wrongly, find this frustrating. If proof is needed, I suggest a quick read of the catalogue of woes that is aired on the English language web site of Baltic Business News ([...]) where the degree of spitefulness can be positively oppressive and, by comparison, Vello is a pussycat.

Mr K's overblown `evil empire' distortions really don't help anyone very much. There was much that was evil about Stalinism but 25% of the population is a totally incorrect figure for the numbers of Estonians deported or executed. The truth is shocking enough without embellishing it with false statistics. This is what Joe Stalin would have done. Toivo Raun, in his scholarly work Estonia and the Estonians, estimates that, in 1941, 2,000 people were executed and 19,000 deported with 33,000 men (most of whom never came back) forcibly mobilised into the Red Army. 70,000 refugees fled in 1944 when the Red Army returned. The total population loss of 1941 - 44, taking into account both the murderous Soviet and Nazi regimes, was approximately 100,000 - about 10% of the pre-war population of 1,126,000. In the light of this information it seems a little silly for Mr K to accuse Vello of `crass exaggerations.'

Now, about Volga cars. The Volga did indeed became a symbol status for the Soviet nomenklatura but Volgas were also traditionally used as taxicabs, police patrols and interceptors, and ambulances. And so it is with people. Some are idealists, some are opportunists, some are just plain bastards, but most just get on with their lives and make the best of the lot that is doled out to them. "50 years of utter misery" is yet another over-dramatisation. My family comes from Käsmu, a sea village ruined by Stalin's odious post- war `liquidation of the kulaks as a class,' when the collectivisation of the farms was achieved by terror and when Raun estimates (probably a conservative guess) that 50,000 - 60,000 were sent to what we call the `Cold Land.' Several of my family included. None of my relations was ever a Communist Party member and they all stood in solidarity with Latvia and Lithuania on the Baltic Chain but I am proudest of all of them when, despite all their undoubted deprivations, their opposition to the regime and their rock firm belief that the new Estonian is better than the old Commie one, their vision remains clear and fair and they give credit to the USSR for their free education and health care, something that isn't on offer now.

Estonia's way ahead seems less certain now than in the heroic days of the Singing Revolution. We must never forget the past but the glory days are over. Consolidation, not revolution, is needed and Vello is one of the very few taking an intelligent swipe at those Estonians who still fail to see the need to change to a more dynamic western lifestyle - the life style they themselves have opted for - in order to survive and to build the nation. Long may Vello continue to take pot shots at complacency and hubris. Anyone interested in the real, living Estonia rather than the cardboard cut out should read this book.

First off, the title is misleading - apparently the only family "inherited" is a demented aunt, so don't expect much on that subject. But that's the least of the problems.

I assume this book was meant to have been written in tongue-in-cheek manner but I just didn't find it funny or witty. (Except for the very last story about the author's dog Mundo - that one was actually quite cute, and I give an extra rating star for Mundo.)

I think I have an idea what kind of people the author has surrounded himself with (see the 2nd part of next paragraph) but to me the people and situations Mr. Vikerkaar describes don't seem even the least bit familiar. The Estonians I know are genuine, educated, worldly, fun (once they get to know you) and peaceful people.

I found the chapter titled "Spoiled Little Soviet Girl" in extremely poor taste. (Would you find it amusing to read a story named "Spoiled Little Slave Boy"?) As the Estonian-Canadian author should well know, the Soviet era in Estonian history is a very touchy subject to say the least, for Estonia was illegally annexed by the Soviet Union, nearly 25% of the population was deported to Siberia or executed, and life for the next 50 years was utter misery (see The Singing Revolution).
I also have a thick bone to pick about the "spoiled" part. Well, you see, the only people in Soviet Estonia who spent their summers touring the Soviet Union in "Volgas" were high ranking KGB and Communist Party leaders; the very same people who kept the country imprisoned behind the Iron Curtain, and directly or indirectly participated in the deportations, executions and overall wretchedness... Rubbing his in-laws' criminal history in readers' face is, in my humble opinion, revolting.

Throughout the book I found Mr. Vikerkaar to be insincere in that he seemed to be overly flabbergasted about certain characteristics and habits of the people in Estonia, and he kept trying to separate himself as the smarter and somehow better Westerner from the silly - and often downright idiotic - locals. I would have perhaps found his bewilderment believable if I didn't know that the author's parents were Estonian, he went to an Estonian high-school in Toronto and most likely spent a good part of his life in Canada socializing with other Estonian expats. I realize that Mr. Vikerkaar was probably trying to inject some elements of comedy by crass exaggerations, and perhaps reading about his adventures, one at a time, in a monthly publication would have been less annoying, possibly even somewhat funny. But in a book, page after page, he comes off as a whiney, disingenuous misfit with a chip on his shoulder. (Oh, and while at it: the correct spelling is Kuressaare and not Kuuresaare.)

Justin Petrone's My Estonia: Passport Forgery, Meat Jelly Eaters, and Other Stories is a much more entertaining read and accurate description of Estonia and its people.