Comrade Koba by Robert Littell

Published by The Overlook Press on November 10, 2020

Robert Littell has written some good spy novels, including Company and The Sisters. He’s also written some historical fiction that is less successful. Comrade Koba falls into the latter category.

Comrade Koba imagines a ten-and-a-half-year-old child named Leon Rozental whose father, a physicist, died from radiation poisoning. He’s living with his mother, a Jewish doctor, in Soviet housing. From a hidden room, he watches the NKVD arrest his mother. He later learns that she was arrested with many other Jewish doctors who are accused of conspiring to poison Stalin.

The NKVD seals shut the apartment door. Leon knows of hidden hallways that let him connect with other kids who have been effectively orphaned within the building. He also knows of a hidden tunnel that will let him leave the building unobserved to forage for food. While returning from one such trip, he notices another passageway that takes him to a basement room where he meets a grumbly old man who claims to be Stalin’s aide. As the man, who calls himself Koba, narrates his story to Leon, it quickly becomes clear to the reader that Koba bears a striking resemblance to Stalin himself. In fact, that question of identity arises so quickly that it isn’t a spoiler to mention it here.

So that’s pretty much the story. Leon listens to Koba every day and hangs out with is friends at night. Leon is a clever kid with a winning personality. Koba is Koba: unrepenting, blaming others for Soviet atrocities or blaming the victims who, in his view, had it coming. He certainly isn’t as nuanced as the book’s blurb suggests. The story is interesting and Littell’s dialog is rich and surprising, but it doesn’t add up to much. If the novel is meant to remind us that Stalin was evil and anti-Semitic . . . well, history reminds us of that.

Unlike history, the novel doesn’t ring true. A kid who wanders through tunnels accidentally encounters a Soviet dictator? Stalin secretly likes kids and wants one to write his biography? Stalin — as we learn at the end — has a sentimental side? I might have been willing to suspend my disbelief if Littell had written a meatier novel, but the rewards of Comrade Koba are too few to earn a full recommendation.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

The Mayakovsky Tapes by Robert Littell

Published by Thomas Dunne Books on November 22, 2016

Robert Littell has written some excellent spy novels. Be warned: The Mayakovsky Tapes is not a spy novel. I’m not sure what it is.

The narrator of The Mayakovsky Tapes tells us that he smuggled recordings out of Soviet Russia in 1955 that, at the age of 86, he feels safe revealing to public. In the post-Soviet age, he assumes, few people remember the Russian poet Vladimir Mayakovsky. The novel purports to be transcriptions of discussions that took place in 1953 with four of Mayakovsky’s lovers.

According to Wikipedia, Mayakovsky’s work “regularly demonstrated ideological and patriotic support for the ideology of the Communist Party” before the Revolution and for some time thereafter. His relationship with the Soviet system became less sanguine toward the end of the 1920s, as he confronted cultural censorship and the government’s support of “Socialist realism” as the Soviet Union’s preferred art form.

The women knew Mayakovsky at different times in the 1920s. Mayakovsky met Lilya Brik while she was married to Osip Brik, who became Mayakovsky’s publisher. Mayakovsky met Osip when they served together after being drafted in 1916. Mayakovsky later began living with the couple and, with Osip’s tacit approval, had an affair with Lilya. As Lilya explains it, he was one of several lovers Lilya entertained during the course of her open marriage.

Mayakovsky traveled to New York in 1925 to give a poetry reading. There he met and began a secret affair with Russian émigré Elly Jones, a model and interpreter. According to the novel, they were inseparable for eight weeks.

In 1928, Mayakovsky visited Paris and met another Russian émigré, Tatiana Yakovleva, who was working as a model for Chanel. Tatiana explains that she refused to give up her virginity to Mayaskovsky despite his protestations of love and proposals of marriage, although she considered their relationship to be deeply intimate.

Mayakovsky’s last lover of the four was Nora (Veronica) Polonskaya, an actress in Russia with whom he had an affair at the end of the decade. At that point, Mayakovsky had fallen out of favor with the Soviet government and was being openly belittled by audiences who accepted the Soviet propaganda that condemned him as an elitist.

The bare facts of Mayakovsky’s love life can be gleaned from the historical record (i.e., Wikipedia), so the question is whether the novel adds something of artistic value to the cold facts. During much of the novel, the women debate Mayakovsky’s personality, his talents as a lover and poet, and his fate. The women have each shared some form of intimacy with the poet, and a certain cattiness predictably erupts at regular intervals during the recordings. That’s not enough to carry a story. In fact, nothing approaching a story develops as the women chat about their respective relationships with Mayakovsky. At least, nothing like an interesting story develops.

At the two-thirds point, I was wondering whether Littell had changed the course of his writing career by choosing to write the sexual biography of a Russian poet rather than a spy novel. I was heartened when Littell took a break from the four women to reveal the imagined contents of Mayakovsky’s GPU file (which reads much like Mayakovsky’s Wikipedia page), but apart from a recommendation that Mayakovsky be shortened by the length of a head, the file adds little to the reader’s knowledge.

Fans of historical celebrity name dropping might enjoy mentions of Isadora Duncan and Georgia O’Keeffe and various American jazz musicians and Russian poets and artists. Fans of Russian history might enjoy the account of Pasternak berating Mayakovsky for supporting the Revolution long after it became clear that Stalin was not true to its goals. Fans of good storytelling will need to look elsewhere.

Considering that the novel consists of nothing but dialog, my first complaint is that none of the dialog seems natural. Littell is a good prose stylist, but people don’t speak as if their words were written by a good prose stylist. My second complaint is that the novel is of academic interest but stirs no passion (except, perhaps, for fans of Mayakovsky’s poetry, if any still exist). My final complaint is that listening to four women praise and condemn the poet they spent time with just isn’t compelling fiction.

NOT RECOMMENDED

The October Circle by Robert Littell

First published in 1975

Although it was written by a spy novelist, The October Circle isn't a conventional spy novel. In fact, it isn't a spy novel at all. Nor is it an action novel. Through much of the story, nothing of consequence happens. The October Circle is instead a novel of characters and ideas. Taken for what it is, The October Circle is both enjoyable and inspirational.

The celebrated members of the October Circle are Bulgarian patriots. The Flag Holder is known for his bravery in battling German invaders in 1944. The Racer set the world record for speed on a bicycle. Both are pictured in Bulgarian history texts. Along with a magician, a dwarf, a trash collector, an opera singer, and a painter, they are notable supporters of the uprising that abolished monarchist rule in Bulgaria, and strong believers in communist principles. When Soviet troops cross into Czechoslovakia in 1968 to suppress reforms instituted by communist leader Alexander Dubček, they feel that those principles have been betrayed. Given their prominence in Bulgarian society, they consider themselves uniquely situated to make a statement in opposition to Soviet aggression. But what form should the statement take? One suggests writing a poem, carefully shrouding political criticism in metaphor to avoid political repercussions. Another suggests writing a letter to a newspaper while another wants to petition the government. Since none of those tactics are likely to be noticed, they finally settle on a demonstration. Not only does it prove to be ineffective, but it leads to the imprisonment of one of the Circle's members.

Betrayal is one of the novel's large themes. In times of repression, the weak and fearful betray each other to protect their positions. Even worse, they betray themselves, subordinating their ideals to the whims of a totalitarian state. This the magician learns during a sham trial as friends take the stand to testify against him. His fate leads the other members of the Circle to consider more drastic forms of protest, but none of them anticipate the actions of the Flag Holder who, weary of betrayal, makes a grand gesture. At this point -- well into the book, when the plot begins to soar -- Robert Littell creates an inspired story of political repression and individual idealism. The Bulgarian government does everything it can to erase the Flag Holder's defiance from the public record, while the Racer does everything he can to honor his friend's memory by making sure the Flag Holder's protest will not go unnoticed.

Littell's great strength is his masterful ability to create memorable characters. From a witch whose prophecies shape the Racer's life to a trash collector who creates poetry from lists of broken and discarded items, Littell's characters carry the novel. The Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia inspires what might loosely be termed a plot, but it is the enduring friendships of the characters, their loyalty not just to Bulgaria and their shared belief in an ideology but to each other, that makes The October Circle so likable.

In the end, The October Circle is a stirring tale of one man's determination to hold true to his ideals, to stand his ground (not just on his own behalf, but on behalf of his compatriots) against the seemingly unlimited power of repression. In a sense, the novel's message is realistically bleak: neither the Soviet government nor western democracies have any use for the purity of idealism if it gets in the way of political propaganda. Yet the novel's last few paragraphs are a stirring reminder that ideas cannot be forever suppressed, and that idealism survives short-term setbacks, even if the idealist does not. 

RECOMMENDED

Sweet Reason by Robert Littell

First published in 1974

Robert Littell has made a career of writing excellent espionage novels. Sweet Reason, his second novel (after The Defection of A.J. Lewinter), is a departure from that niche. This 1974 novel is a war story, or more accurately a war comedy: not as outrageously funny (and not nearly as profound) as Catch-22, but in the same satirical vein, and funny enough.

The U.S.S. Eugene F. Ebersole, a rusty, leaky, dilapidated destroyer commissioned during World War II, is dispatched to the Vietnam War by mistake. The novel takes place during the first three days after its arrival at Yankee Station. On Day One, the crew mistakenly sinks a junk (the captain proclaims a military victory and recommends himself for the silver star) and the destroyer plows into a downed jet during a rescue attempt (the pilot "was probably dead anyhow," the captain muses). Day Two begins with a Congressman boarding the destroyer for a photo op. To make sure the Congressman gets on the news, the destroyer finds a target to shoot at -- with unfortunate results. On Day Three, the sonar operator thinks he's spotted a submarine and the captain gives orders to sink it but ... well, you get the idea. Meanwhile, anonymous typewritten messages from "The Voice of Sweet Reason" appear, complaining of racial segregation aboard ship and urging the crew not to maintain the ship's engines or to fire its guns: a plea for mutiny that some crew members embrace.

The humor in Sweet Reason is amusing more than laugh-out-loud funny and the characters are a bit one dimensional despite the backgrounds Littell invents for them. As an indictment of war's folly or of career military officers, Sweet Reason succeeds, but only in a rather obvious way and not as well as other novels that have covered the same ground. The ending is a bit over-the-top. While Sweet Reason is an easy, sometimes entertaining read, Littell was wise to stick to espionage novels, where his authorial abilities are more triumphantly displayed. (If you want to read Littell at his best, you should try The Sisters, a novel that tells a grimly serious story with a wonderful comic touch.)

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

The Defection of A.J. Lewinter by Robert Littell

First published in 1973

A.J. Lewinter, a physicist specializing in ceramics who does military research on missile nosecones, defects to the Soviet Union (the novel was published in 1973, when the Soviet Union still existed). His knowledge of ceramics isn't likely to be helpful to the Russians, but Lewinter may have obtained accurate knowledge of missile trajectories--information that could enable the Soviet Union to develop an effective anti-missile defense. The American government isn't quite sure whether Lewinter was able to memorize the trajectory formulas during his brief time with them, while the Soviets aren't quite sure whether Lewinter is a genuine defector with useful information, a genuine defector who has been given false information to fool the Soviets, or an American agent.

Littell's novel takes a fun look at the games played by espionage services. The Americans want the Russians to believe Lewinter's information is useless. The Russians, in turn, need to figure out whether they're being played by the Americans. The novel takes us through the reasoning processes employed by both sides. The characters, on both the American and Russian side, are interesting albeit one-dimensional. This is more of a cerebral novel than an action-packed thriller, but the twists and turns taken by the Americans and Russians as each side tries to out-think and to out-deceive the other make the novel a gripping read.

RECOMMENDED