"Three Apples Fell from the Sky" by Narine Abgaryan

Three Apples Fell from the Sky

by Narine Abgaryan 

(translated by Lisa C. Hayden)

A review

And three apples fell from heaven:

One for the storyteller,

One for the listener,

And one for the eavesdropper

This old Armenian saying opens Three Apples Fell from the Sky.  Originally published in Russian in 2015, this novel by Moscow-based Narine Abgaryan is now being issued by Oneworld Publications in a flowing and idiomatic English translation by Lisa C. Hayden.  And what a delightful book it turns out to be.

The novel is set in Maran, a small, isolated village in the Armenian mountains, where time seems to have stood still.  Indeed, the temporal setting of the novel remains vague.  Maran seems untouched by modern technology and one gets the impression that the story could be happening over a hundred years ago.  But there are hints (especially when the city is mentioned) that the setting is much more recent.  It all enhances the feeling that the narrative stands out of time.  Several tragedies across the decades – war, famine, pestilence, earthquakes and landslides – have threatened to wipe out Maran, but the tightly-knit community clings on to life, even though its few inhabitants have grown old and infirm.   

The novel follows a tripartite structure inspired by the opening proverb.  Part I, titled “For the One Who Saw”, focusses on the librarian Anatolia. Although she now in her late fifties, Anatolia is one of the youngest inhabitants of Maran.  She is frail and in poor health, resigned to the fact that death has reached her, just as it has taken away her abusive husband and close relatives.  But the other villagers, who treat her with almost parental affection, will have none of this.  They play matchmakers and, somewhat unexpectedly, set her up with the widowed blacksmith Vasily.  The first part of the novel also introduces us to a rich supporting cast of colourful characters who reappear in later sections.

Part II is titled For the One Who Told the Story and its protagonists are Vano, his wife Valinka and their orphaned grandson Tigran.  Tigran is the only Maran infant to survive the epochal famine, and he has a solitary upbringing with his doting grandparents. His only companion is a strange white peacock which appeared roughly around the time when Vano and Valinka took Tigran into their care.  This section of the novel follows Tigran’s journey into adulthood until his marriage and the birth of his son.

Part III, For the One who Listened, combines the two threads of the story, leading to an unexpected and heart-warming conclusion.

This is a magical novel.  It manages to be life-affirming without descending into cheap sentimentality.  Tragedy and death stalk its pages, and are never trivialised and understated, yet there is always an underlying seam of humour and hope. 

Abgaryan achieves this challenging balance in part through the beauty of the novel’s prose, which mimics the oral storytelling of myths and legends.   The novel is, in fact, imbued with a particular brand of magical realism which I particularly associate with Russian and Eastern European authors – the likes of Bulgakov, Remizov, Hamid Ismailov.  At times it even reminded me of Ahmed Saadawi’s Frankenstein in Baghdad, despite the very different context and setting.   It is a style which is on the one hand earthy and realistic, delighting in minute descriptions of everyday village life, and on the other hand marked by supernatural elements drawn from fables and biblical/religious imagery.   Ghosts which haunt the twilight hours; dreams and premonitions; miraculous events… these appear in the novel as matter-of-factly as the delicious dishes prepared by the old villagers. 

This novel was a prize-winner in Russia and the English translation will hopefully earn it the new fans it deserves.

Kindle Edition, 256 pages

Published by Oneworld Publications 

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"The Creation of the World" from an Armenian manuscript illuminated by Malnazar (1637-1638)

Three Apples Fell from the Sky is imbued with the spirit of Armenian tradition.  It is therefore apt to start this accompanying playlist with some haunting piano pieces by Soghomon Soghomonian (1869-1935), also known as Komitas.  An Armenian priest, musicologist, composer, arranger, singer and choirmaster, Komitas is considered a pioneer of ethnomusicology and the “saviour of Armenian music”.  During the Armenian genocide, Komitas was arrested and deported to a prison camp.

Aram Khachaturian (1903- 1978) is probably the most famous Armenian composer of the 20^th Century.  His music is generally bright and colourful and – one would think – in keeping with the Soviet “realist” approach which favoured tonal, “optimistic” and patriotic music.  Yet, like Shostakovich and Prokofiev, he was on occasion denounced for not toeing the cultural line of the Communist Party.   Khachaturian was often inspired by folk music – not just that of his native Armenia, but also of other Soviet states.   

Armenian composers continue to be influenced by the culture and traditions of their country. A case in point is Tigran Mansurian, whose works include a Requiem for the victims of the Armenian genocide.  His Agnus Dei for violin, clarinet, cello and piano is a meditative chamber work which combines new techniques with old Armenian musical traditions, equally inspired by folk and sacred music:

One of my favourite choirs is Kitka, a California-basic women’s vocal ensemble focussing on Eastern European women’s singing traditions.  Armenia is one of their stops on their musical journeys, as represented by this recording of three spine-tingling lullabies.  Were these the songs heard by the children of Maran?

Three Apples Fell from the Sky often presents us with contrasts:  the old and the new, the village and the city, the sacred and the profane.  These contrasts are also at the heart of the music of pianist and composer Tigran Hamasyan, which combines jazz and Armenian (and, sometimes, Middle Eastern) influences.  Here he performs a genre-hopping arrangement of “The Apple Orchard of Saghmosavank”.  The Sahnmosavank is a 13^th Century monastic complex situated in the Armenian mountains atop a gorge, not unlike the village of Maran.  

I would like this selection of pieces with some music by an American composer who never lived in Armenia and, at one stage, even seemed to renege on his Armenian heritage. Alan Hovhaness, born as Alan Vaness Chakmakjian to an Armenian father and a Scottish-American mother, rediscovered his Armenian heritage in his thirties and it shaped his approach to composition as well as earning him the support of the Armenian community in New York.   Here, the composer himself conducts Tzaikerk (which, in Armenian, means “Song of the Night”) for flute, violin, timpani and strings.