Customer Reviews

The Porcupine

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I discovered this book accidentally, just because I love Barnes' way of writing. I had no idea what it was about, no idea if it were good or bad, truthful or not. I'm from Bulgaria, the country so well depicted in this book, and I'd never imagined that a foreigner could've observed and captured so well the difficulties and sufferings that were endured during the changes. The book is quite objective and gives you a realistic view of our capital, our people, our lives. If you want to know anything about Bulgaria, this is where you should start.

You've heard about the economic and political difficulties faced by people in Eastern Europe following the great collapse. You've seen some of the people on the evening news. How often have you thought that being in the midst of it for a week would be a much more profound experience than a "City Slickers" vacation. Julian Barnes' book, "The Porcupine" is your chance to have that adventure. Go far beyond a tourist excursion into the heart of the experience.

If theatre, politics, philosophy are an interest then this short novel will appeal to you. Trials can be fascinating theatre and the purpose of political show trials is partly to provide some relief or satisfaction for the suffering public out for revenge. Mr Barnes is outstanding at getting inside the heads of the protagonists, and some of the funniest moments are the monologues of the accused Petkanov. But he also provides witty asides into fashion, folklore, and history. A great read.

The elaborately choreographed show trials of Stalin are as well known, as they are infamous. There are few examples in History when one, malformed creature, both mentally and physically, could rule as a dictator for so long, and without challenge. Even Kirov cannot be considered more than a potential challenge, as the murdered do not compete. The number, who rules a Country that they were not born to, narrows the numbers further. Hitler did come from Austria, but in any measure of terror, killing, and longevity, he is not even close to Stalin.

In, "The Porcupine", by Julian Barnes, it is the tyrant that is on trial, not Stalin, for the country of this Dictator's origin is never mentioned. Much historical detail is used, and the quandary the Prosecution faces would have been the same if Stalin had ever been tried. Some of the circumstances that span from the beginning to the end of the book, in a manner of speaking, can be witnessed today. What was "The Evil Empire" when viewed from here, is a way of governed life that would still be welcomed back by large portions of not just Russia, but members of the former union as well. Life may not have been ideal, but if "the two words" have not made them better, why not go back?

Who charges the dictator, who can sit in judgement when those passing a verdict were a part of the machine themselves? Who is qualified to prosecute, what can the charges be, and what is the punishment to entail? Crimes Against Humanity as tried in Nuremberg, placed the defendants before those that had defeated them. The crimes were appalling, but even bringing that trial to the point of beginning was anything but certain, and certainly not with precedent.

Mr. Barnes pens a great Counter Factual bit of "what if?" History. That it has not happened as described does not detract from the fascination the idea provokes. The issue seems easy in theory, the outcome preordained. But wishing and wanting don't just make it so, or does it?

When men become very old, they often become aggressively stupid and silly. However, just before this period appears, some men become confidently silly - like "the porcupine" in this text - Stoyo Petkanov. Julian Barnes text, "The Porcupine" is about an encounter, lasting for about 50 days, between Prosecutor General (PG) Peter Solinsky, and the former President of a former USSR state, Stoyo Petkanov. The PG prosecuting the President in Ciminal Law Case Number 1. The two men share a common history, but played different parts in it: "trying to claim some bond between them, giving him advice like this" (p. 135). There are two question raised in the text, I think. The fist is whether the encounter between the two men will transfer some of the (monster p. 135) characteristics of the old former President over to the younger Prosecutor General. Or more precisely, if the President's confidence is a vehicle for a transfer. The second question is if making decisions are better than indecision: "to work, and then act" is better than: "Comrades, I have been rereading..." (p. 131), the former strategy with results and abuse of power, the latter strategy with - we don't really know ("there is no ... sausage in the shop" p. 105) - but no abuse of power. (President George W. Bush autobiography was named "Decision Points" a nice title, no implications.)

For the first question the answer may be that there was some transfer? "... it hardly seemed tactful to accept any visible favor from the new government while charging its predecessor with massive abuse of privilege. Maria (the PG's wife) found this argument absurd. The Prosecutor General should not live in a law professor's dingy three-room mouse hole..." (p.7, 128). The sentence: "I sentence you" (p. 136), may also be meaningful, but I don't know. For the second question, I am not sure we learn much: "Freedom. Freedom not to be serious." (p. 105, p. 133), but that may not have been the intention either.

There are two aspect of the text that I wonder about: the vocabulary for swearing used here and the obituary like long lists that Stoyo Petkanov is making to rehabilitate himself. i) Does Russians swear as the English do? (e.g., relevant sentence on p. 133). I would think their swearing would be different, but there exist not yet any: "Grand book about swearing in 99 cultures," so I don't know. Ii) I can see the purpose of the former president listing all his credentials, including Orders and obituary-like assessments from other leaders, like Jimmy Carter: "The Presidents influence in the international arena as leader is outstanding..." (p. 122- 125, orders, p. 116-122). However, with so many pages used to make the list, I would think there is more English irony in it than I grasp. Listing obituaries as support for grandness is probably the ultimate silliness of old men. Maybe to show this was one of the intentions with this text.

I read the book with interest, for verbal enjoyment of sentences and structures, and for understanding something about the forces that created and destroyed the USSR. I am not sure I learned very much more than how English irony can be applied to a story of how an old man turned from confidently silly to aggressively silly. That is, stories of old men that never made mistakes.

Citations: "The events began to blur like bicycles spokes."(p. 21), "Could a nation lose its capacity for skepticism, for useful doubt? What if the muscle of contradiction simply atrophied from lack of exercise? (p. 27)

You come upon pure evil between book covers as rarely as in real life. This is one such case. In this novel, the writer presents the proposition that the the true villains of the Liberation of 1989 were the dissidents, the true heroes the communists. That's right--Havel and Walensa are fiends, Ceaucescu, Andropov, and the rest giants. Imagine a serious literary figure publishing a book praising Hitler in say, 1950, and you've got the picture. That no such novel was ever published reveals how far the intellectual has deteriorated in our time.

I'm glad I read this book, since it provides a facet of the Depths not to be found in Celine or Burroughs. But I would recommend it to no one.