Vilnius Poker by Ricardas Gavelis

One of the hard-to-quit-books, if what I just said can be considered a category. After all, it should come easy to put an unpromising novel aside. But reading Vilnius Poker developed abruptly into a situation similar to a turbulent relationship. A relationship that fails to work despite the emotional common ground between the two, yet none wants to walk out on the other.

I felt early for the beautifully crafted phrase and, deep into forty pages, the prospect of finishing the reading for this reason alone, appeared to be reasonable. But the constant rambling in circles of Vytautas Vargalis was too irritating. To the point where I didn’t only shut the book loud (it is a hardback), I also slammed the door to the reading room. What was so irking about the novel? I would itemize the lack of novelty, of variety, of progress in any direction. The novel behaves, for a good two hundred pages plus, like the calm, immovable surface of a lake.

A Lithuanian soviet camp survivor, Vytautas might as well have died, as the life he leads after getting out is a life in constant fear of the surroundings. He despises Vilnius and its occupants. Every person or situation frightens him, suspecting that is an act of Theirs meant to exterminate his own persona, physically or just at the moral level. They are everywhere and are kanuking people. The kanuked people are slaves to an oppressive system, gladly obeying uniformity.

Vargalys’s fears are not ill-founded. What he describes as kanuked is what can be spotted with ease amongst any of the contemporary societies. But the desperation this imagined situation seeds into his soul is of unmanageable proportions and leads to emotional turmoil. And who would listen benevolently to the rants of a delusional man, even if, at times, they develop into brilliant monologue.  It took a great amount of determination to read through when I lost the hope that Vytautas will evolve.

Vytautas sees different. He is not right, nor wrong. There is more shown to his eye compare to the eye of anyone around him. His pores are larger, his eyes can differentiate not only colors, but insights and his smell is monstrous. He is paranoid. There exists an overall bad which suffocates Vilnius and the entire humanity and, in the same time, is responsible for his broken life. A bad that Vargalys considers its own personal target.

There are countless interesting passages in Vilnius Poker. The tone, in general, is incriminating, harsh, difficult to swallow even for a non-Lithuanian. Theories like the Vilnius Syndrome, or homo Lithuanicus versus homo Sovieticus spread on many pages and in the detriment of the urban space or it’s urbanites.

Vilnius Poker makes a great, worthy reading, but very wearying in the same time. At times the story becomes so violent, yet in such a natural way that one can consider that Ricardas Gavelis hates its readers.

This is not a love story, as many tend to imply. Of course, there is the intense, destructive Lolita, or the loving Stefa, or Irena, the savior. They are episodes, unlike Vilnius, which is always present. Unlike Them, who never cease to torment Vytauta’s soul.

***

The cover, designed by Milan Bozic, plays an important role in attracting readers.

I admire the Open Letter translation projects.

Notable Vilnius Poker reviews:

Paul Doyle’s review here.

You can go through a preview on Google Books.

Currently reading: The Loss of Sadness and The Black Book of Communism (not a sustained reading; too dark to digest it in one go).