I read this book several weeks ago but have not tried to comment until now. The book is well written, however the story is grim, it is like listening to one musical note that does not change. The theme is a familiar story of once wealthy people who upon emigrating find themselves living a life that is less satisfying than they could have imagined. One individual, who did break out and move onward and upward, is drawn back by a vague summons regarding some crisis, and this is what the body of the book explores.

The summons that returns Dr. Blud to his boyhood haunts in New Jersey must be vague to bring him back. There is nothing that justifies why this man would ever return to this neighborhood, so a mystery is needed to spark his curiosity and the return. The summons comes from Adriana the mother of his best childhood friend. Upon his arrival the past is explored and it is unremittingly grim, sometimes tragic, often brutally intentioned. And this is where I lost the thread. The immigrant tale of misery has been written about so many times and so well, that entering the genre takes more than desire. Much of the book is a distraction, which is contrived by Adriana to allow time to make a claim.

When the book reaches its close the author has used a somewhat clever device that explains why the reader has been forced, together with the Dr., by Adriana to endure the recitation of so much history. For this reader it was somewhat of a consolation for an otherwise bland read. It did not suddenly make clear and necessary all that the reader was put through, however it did provide some interest.

Perhaps I missed something with this work. I would suggest the book to others who have a gap in their reading time they need to fill; I would not make reading the book a priority.

We are each a storehouse of the accumulative pain that we have experienced, handed down to us by our parents and other significants -- how we recognize, view and process that pain draws the boundaries of the way in which we live our lives. Some people have a tougher time dealing with their past than others -- and when, as in the case of Nick Blud, the narrator of Askold Melnyczuk's dark, rich and extremely moving novel, that pain is multiplied by the suffering endured by his parents and grandparents, it's an almost insurmountable task. To make matters even more difficult for him, his parents -- Ukranian immigrants who have made a new life in America -- are reluctant to give many details about what they experienced in WWII in their homeland. This novel chronicles Nick's journey inward and backward to fill in the gaps in his family's past and come to terms with them. There are several characters in the novel who are making this journey -- and, indeed, aren't we all, to varying degrees? Each of them has their own discoveries to make, their own ghosts to exorcize, their own truths to define. Some of them are up to the challenge -- and some of them fail in devastating ways.

The mood of Melnyczuk's novel is dark -- but the writing is very rich, expressing the desperation and hope, the pain and joy, the terror and exultation in which his characters are awash. The emotions here run strong and deep, and they are honestly -- at times brutally so -- portrayed. A premise is expressed toward the end of the novel -- and this isn't a spoiling revelation, don't worry -- about the nature of darkness and light in our lives: 'Death, a writer once observed, is the dark backing a mirror needs if we are to see anything'. We need one in order to know and appreciate the other.

I found the novel to be modrately compelling for the first 100 pages -- then it picked up steam and held me unrelentingly in its grip for the duration of the story. The characterizations are full, developed vivdly, and memorable. This is one of the more unusual tales I've come across in the last year or so -- very entertaining on one level, and very instructive on another. I'll have to check out the author's earlier novel, WHAT IS TOLD -- I'm extremely impressed with the skills and style he has shown in this book.

The narrator of Askold Melnyczuk's masterful novel, a successful physician, thinks that to a large extent he has escaped the past - the troubled lives of his Ukranian immigrant friends - and become successfully assimilated into the American dream of upward mobility. In the course of the novel he learns that the past is not like the pages of a photo album that you can leaf through when the spirit moves you; rather, it lives within you, influences and molds you, whether you want it to or not, and can spring out at you, like a tiger crouching in the bushes outside your sunny suburban home. A difficult theme, and Melnyczuk handles it well.

The "Unbound Europe" series gives us another unexpected source of enjoyment (check out Selimovic's "Death and the Dervish" for a book that could change your life). Dibrova writes a 50-page long short-story, "Peltse" about an otherwise miserable and undistinguished kid who fantasizes about his glorious future. Or is it fantasy?

"Pentameron" is a quick-moving day in the life of five administrative functionaries, and in just 150 pages Dibrova manages to lay bare for us the fears, paranoias, concerns, hopes and (few though they may be) joys in the lives of these people. Having visited Ukraine in the mid-1980s I was especially pleased to catch in these pages what I consider to have been a glimpse inside all those monolithic government buildings I passed by in Kiev.

A short and sweet read that will confirm - and illuminate - many of the suspicions (dare I say stereotypes) that westerners held about the Soviet bloc in the 1970s and '80s.

Bicultural Americans may recognize a part of themselves or the people they've grown up with in this story of a Ukrainian family living on American soil, but not quite yet a part of America. The rituals, superstitions, songs, and celebrations described are familiar, evoking smiles of memories and nostalgia. This book stays with you, prompting an occassional rereading.