There is always something exciting about stumbling across hidden treasure - finding something rich and wonderful when you least expect it. Kalfus is a wonderful secret - quietly writing some of the most imaginative and diverse short fiction I've read recently. It's a great book for those who want to look cool holding a book by an author few people have heard of yet, but it's an absolute must for anyone who loves to get lost in a story and hasn't read anything very original in a long time.

I'm primarily a reader of "literary fiction"--a genre that, I think, is in great need of a shot in the arm. It's pretty stale with its family romances and suburban disillusionment tales churned out by writers' workshops. I like fiction by authors who care deeply about innovative language--who understand how it works and how to manipulate it. I like authors who are willing to take chances and mix genre conventions, and who have a knowledge of lit and cultural theory. Ken Kalfus is willing to take chances in his writing--willing to mix elements of fantasy, SF, magical realism, realism, fables and other genres together.

Most of his stories in Thirst work brilliantly: they are linguistically innovative, compellingly told hybrids. The book's range is exciting--inventive without being gimmicky. Redolent of other authors without being derivative. Never topical, the stories deal with important contemporary social issues and phenomena without being preachy.

An outstanding book. Funny, touching, and relevant.

Highly recommended.

Ken Kalfus is an excellent writer. The range of stories in this book, combined with the grace and style with which they are written, demonstrate that. He can hop from setting to setting, and from style to style, and executes each with aplomb.

However, I will note that in this collection, while there is breadth, there isn't necessarily depth. This is a tasty candy, a frothy confection that dazzles. But it's not a meal. I felt the the emotional life of the characters was not as complex as the situations he set up demanded. There was a sense that the writing came first, the story after.

But this is a first book, and I certainly look forward to seeing him develop. The book is smart, funny, and beautifully written.

(4 1/2 stars). Four set pieces alone would justify reading of this novel: the making of Tolstoy's death mask (the narrator describes that the cement left one of the Count's recently closed eyes with a little popping sound); a true revolt of the proles unfolds just as the camera man hopes for footage of the same to stand in for the Kremlin where Stalin "might" have been as an extra if he had not really not been there for the October (read: November) revolution; the embalming of Lenin as he/before he dies; and the final chapter's stream-of-consciousness relation of the rise and fall of the USSR from Lenin's own supine p-o-v.

I came to this novel curious about how ideas are sold to people, and the novelistic control of this theme more than rewards the careful reader. Not a long book, this is both its strength and its slight shortcoming. I imagine Kalfus had pared down a longer draft, as there is no unessential material here at all. A lesser novelist would have wandered into fleshing out more characters, following up the fates of Volodov and Astapov with subplots stretching into the future, and would have showed off more of his (or her) knowledge about the time. I'll certainly search out his two earlier volumes of short stories now. As the bibliographical note after the novel indicates, his research matches his fictional talents. He even acknowledges Sheila Fitzpatrick's "unimaginatively titled" Commissariat of Enlightenment--for such an organization did exist, as Fitzpatrick studies. What a title: a group to enforce and rule over indoctrination into "scientific" study of history, laden with documents written by intellectuals for workers to educate the latter about why they were so idolized by the former.

With a keen understanding of the, well, dialectics involved in such a Soviet mission, Kalfus deletes, drains, and cuts, like the film editing, the embalming, and the dictate by terror that he intertwines into the three themes of his story. It makes for gripping if not casual reading. I only wish he had allowed more room for following through Astapov's fate after the establishment of Stalin's power. Yes, a whole other novel is buried in a few asides of this one. I wish there was a sequel--Kalfus makes you care about all three of his protagonists, no mean feat when they all turn out to be so terrifying in their respective devotions to their propagandistic crafts.

Kolya Gribshin, a young cameraman working for the Pathe Freres Cinematography Company, arrives at the railway station in Astapovo in 1910 to cover the last days of Count Leo Tolstoy, who is dying in the stationmaster's house. Reporters from all over the world have gathered to record his final moments, but only Gribshin is recording the events on film, a new medium. Gribshin knows that printed word is inaccessible to the illiterate masses, but that film can provide immediate "truth" by "ripping away the veil of lies thrown up by language." As we see Gribshin travel between the darkness of the unlit countryside, where he is staying with an illiterate peasant family, and the artificial, arc-lit brightness of the media-mad town, the author uses vivid imagery from black and white photography to show the contrasts between the lives of illiterate peasants living in darkness and concentrating on their next meal, and the lives of an "enlightened" media conveying news to the outside world.

Like Gribshin, revolutionaries such as Josef Stalin also recognize the power of the visual image to "educate" illiterate people and shape and control public opinion. Part II takes place nine, war-filled years later, after Russia has faced the horrors of The Great War, the Bolshevik revolution, and the civil war, and Stalin is putting some of these principles into effect through the Commissariat of Enlightenment. Gribshin, now known as Comrade Astapov, is working with him as they attempt to control the masses by controlling visual images--governing theater productions, film projects, and even city planning. Here the imagery of darkness and light, introduced in Part I, becomes a constant motif, as the Commissariat plans to "extend the enlightenment to every remote..village in the tundra," destroying churches and the images (icons) within, if necessary. In 1924, the Commissariat's ultimate image-control occurs when the body of Lenin is preserved "uncorrupted," allowing the state to display publicly a man who never "dies."

Kalfus has dared to think big in his debut novel, and his talents are legion. His parallels between black and white photography and his symbols of darkness and light keep the reader constantly aware of the darkness of illiteracy and the light of truth which film can provide. But this is also a cautionary tale about the ability of images to be manipulated and controlled, and all Kalfus's plot elements are subordinated to this single, overwhelming theme. Gribshin, the "lens" through which the reader views events, never really comes alive, and we do not know his motivations or see him wrestling with inner conflicts. He is, ultimately, a cog in the apparatus of the Commissariat of Enlightenment, a vehicle through whom the author advances his theme, not a thinking human. The novel is very tight, however, with no loose ends, and when Kalfus observes that the West, too, is creating an image-ruled empire by presenting so much imagery and meaning that "the sum [becomes] unintelligible," the reader will pause and ponder. Mary Whipple

Kalfus knows his material on Russia, where this story is set. This is part historical fiction--one that takes acknowledged liberties, even distortions--and part novel of ideas. The novel is written in two parts, the first of which deals with Tolstoy's dying days and the media circus and inner-circle infighting that attends this debacle. The second half of the novel takes place in post-revolutionary days and incorporates characters and themes from the first half in a manner that is resonant, even predictable, but not pat. Major themes include: visual culture trumping the written word; the manufacture of "history" through media, including propaganda (the then new medium of film is central); the limitations of science, especially when confronted with the religious impulses/needs actually felt by people. As is often the case with novels of ideas, the characters are rather thin and without much inner life. Action is privileged over motivations. But if you like the ideas, you'll like the novel.

Pu-239 consists of a collection of six short stories followed by a novella. The short stories cover a broad range of topics and cross the vast geographic expanse (Moscow, Chechnya, an area like Chernobyl, and the former Soviet/Jewish Republic of Birobidzhan) that is the former USSR. Some of the stories work and read well. Pu-239 and Birobidzhan work particularly well. Others, Orbit and Anzhelika, 13 are acceptable. Salt and Budyonnovsk, are not particularly good. The Novella, Peredelkino, concludes the collection and is Kalfus' best piece of writing. Ironically, it also explains the pitfall that keeps this work from a higher rating. Much has been made in prior reviews and in the dust jacket of Kalfus' 4-year stay in the USSR/CIS. Some have argued that the stories reflect the broad but ultimately superficial range of Kalfus' knowledge of Russia. This is a valid criticism. However, the importance of that criticism depends upon whether you believe that a short story requires the same kind of depth one would look for in a novel. Further, it depends upon whether you view in-depth knowledge to be a pre-requisite for a good story. Peredelkino centers on a Soviet writer and member of the Writer's Union during the Brezhnev regime. The protagonist receives fierce criticism for a novel that focuses on life on a Soviet merchant vessel. The criticism centers on his lack of precise in-depth information about life on the ship. It shows, his critics argue, a lack of concern for Soviet realism. The writer complains that the facts were not essential. He writes fiction and the ship was merely a fiction delivery device. Kalfus, to a certain extent, faces the same criticism. Despite his 4-year stay, his stories do not seem to cut below the outer levels of reality of Soviet life. On the other hand, if we accept the settings merely as a fiction delivery device rather than an in-depth excursion into the soul of Mother Russia, the value of the stories as stories are heightened. Ultimately, this is a book worth reading despite its uneven quality.

Whoever sent Ken Kalfus' wife to work in Moscow has done a great service to readers. Placed in such a strange environment, Kalfus has crafted a collection of short stories (and a novella)focusing on individuals who find their own dreams and desires at odds with the system, any system. The result is a rich and satisfying book of great skill, honesty and insight.

In the title story, a scientist contaminated by exposure to radioactivity enters the black market to provide security to his family. In "Orbit," a very human Yuri Gargarin spends an eventful night before his first spaceflight. The novella, "Peredelkino" explores the tension between creativity, love and politics. In each of these stories, and the others, the characters are finely drawn, the narration is deft and the impact made without contrivance or manipulation of the reader.

Kalfus' first book, "Thirst," was a wonderfully diverse collection of stories. "Pu-239" follows up, and even surpasses the promise of that book. "Pu-239" is a treasure.

I found this to be a great collection of short stories, and I think those who are interested in life in the Soviet Union/Russia of the 20th Century will also find it to be a compelling read. The author clearly knows how to handle the short story genre (although the "novella" piece at the end of the book was my personal favorite - great development of characters in this particular piece!), and his experiences living in Russia have obviously influenced the way his stories ring true.

If you like short stories, and you're interested in the sociology/psychology of life in the Soviet Union/Russia, you'll really like this collection. I did.