Spanning decades from Soviet-era to now, this novel is both expansive yet deeply personal. Moving between Ukraine and Berlin, but grounded in a pair of interlinked mother-daughter relationships, the background of political and social upheaval takes shape in inter-generational trauma. A constant undercurrent of alienation, especially around personal identity, makes this a read with no easy answers and powerful emotional truths.
The other day on the internet, I saw a Soviet film that must have been on at the cinema before my mum was born. The main character has gills and lungs; he can't walk around the harbour for long, but he doesn't feel properly at home in the sea either, and of course everyone thinks he's a weirdo. I sat there, fingers poised on the keyboard, ready to send the link to my mother with the subject line this is how it feels. But I didn't bother in the end because I reckoned it wouldn't get me anywhere ... I don't want her knowing that I trawl the internet for films she might have seen as a child. That I think about her all the time. Every day.
