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inulroI can't remember where I first heard of this book, but as it is a Belarusian gothic novel, I certainly know why I thought it would appeal to me.
It was first published in 1974 in Minsk and this translation came out in 2012. I have to say the translation is an absolute delight to read - and I've read enough Russian books in translation to know that this is no easy thing.
Set in the 1880s, a young folklorist is travelling the more remote parts of Belarus collecting folk-tales and songs, etc. He gets terribly lost and nearly ends up stuck in a swamp but finds his way to an ancient, decaying house inhabited by a wraith-like teenage girl and motley collection of servants. The girl, Nadzeya Yanovsky, is the last of her line. Ten generations previously, her ancestor had betrayed the rightful Belarusian king in favour of the Polish colonisers. The eponymous King Stakh placed a curse on the family, who have been hunted down through the ages the ghost of the wronged king and his hunting party.
The narrator (Andre Belaretsky) is persuaded to stay in the house while he does his research, and Gothic Things start to happen. The Wild Hunt is heard in the neighbourhood. There are two ghosts in the decaying house. There is a tragic coming-of-age ball. There is an even more sinister, and extremely drunken, party at the house of another local magnate, the most bizarre duel I've ever come across in literature, following which the Wild Hunt chases Belaretsky back to the Yanovsky estate. All the while Nadzeya becomes ever more sickly and fearful, convinced that one of the supernatural entities that are hounding her will kill her. Belaretsky predictably falls in love with her and commits to breaking the curse, and an action-packed climax is delivered.
Tangentially, this book left me wondering where gothic ends and folk horror begins. I don't have an answer yet, but it's something to think about.
To my mind, there is a lot more Western European gothic here than Eastern European folklore elements, though I might just be seeing what I'm used to. Apparently the Wild Hunt figures in Eastern European as well as Celtic and Germanic culture. It is different here than what I'm used to from Celtic and Celtic-influenced stories but I don't know whether that's how it works in Slavic mythology or whether this is just Karatkevich's invention.
This is probably the best modern gothic novel I've ever read. At times it reads like a mash-up of all the classics, from Walpole to Radcliffe to Poe (so much Poe, so much decay and fatalism). Being a product of the Soviet era it's very socialist. Instead of being the ignorant caricatures of the classic gothic novel, the peasants are portrayed as sensible and good and very wronged by the nobility. The decline of the Belarusian nobility is presented as deserved rather than tragic. All the aesthetic elements of gothic but without the dodgy politics? Yes please. Peasants with pitchforks as the heroes of the tale? Sign me up.
If I start producing gothic stories with radical politics you'll know where I stole the idea from.
It was first published in 1974 in Minsk and this translation came out in 2012. I have to say the translation is an absolute delight to read - and I've read enough Russian books in translation to know that this is no easy thing.
Set in the 1880s, a young folklorist is travelling the more remote parts of Belarus collecting folk-tales and songs, etc. He gets terribly lost and nearly ends up stuck in a swamp but finds his way to an ancient, decaying house inhabited by a wraith-like teenage girl and motley collection of servants. The girl, Nadzeya Yanovsky, is the last of her line. Ten generations previously, her ancestor had betrayed the rightful Belarusian king in favour of the Polish colonisers. The eponymous King Stakh placed a curse on the family, who have been hunted down through the ages the ghost of the wronged king and his hunting party.
The narrator (Andre Belaretsky) is persuaded to stay in the house while he does his research, and Gothic Things start to happen. The Wild Hunt is heard in the neighbourhood. There are two ghosts in the decaying house. There is a tragic coming-of-age ball. There is an even more sinister, and extremely drunken, party at the house of another local magnate, the most bizarre duel I've ever come across in literature, following which the Wild Hunt chases Belaretsky back to the Yanovsky estate. All the while Nadzeya becomes ever more sickly and fearful, convinced that one of the supernatural entities that are hounding her will kill her. Belaretsky predictably falls in love with her and commits to breaking the curse, and an action-packed climax is delivered.
Tangentially, this book left me wondering where gothic ends and folk horror begins. I don't have an answer yet, but it's something to think about.
To my mind, there is a lot more Western European gothic here than Eastern European folklore elements, though I might just be seeing what I'm used to. Apparently the Wild Hunt figures in Eastern European as well as Celtic and Germanic culture. It is different here than what I'm used to from Celtic and Celtic-influenced stories but I don't know whether that's how it works in Slavic mythology or whether this is just Karatkevich's invention.
This is probably the best modern gothic novel I've ever read. At times it reads like a mash-up of all the classics, from Walpole to Radcliffe to Poe (so much Poe, so much decay and fatalism). Being a product of the Soviet era it's very socialist. Instead of being the ignorant caricatures of the classic gothic novel, the peasants are portrayed as sensible and good and very wronged by the nobility. The decline of the Belarusian nobility is presented as deserved rather than tragic. All the aesthetic elements of gothic but without the dodgy politics? Yes please. Peasants with pitchforks as the heroes of the tale? Sign me up.
If I start producing gothic stories with radical politics you'll know where I stole the idea from.
