The Lake
by Bianca Bellová
translated from the Czech by Alex Zucker
Bianca Bellová’s Jezero won the 2017 EU Prize for Literature and is now being published in English as The Lake, in a translation from the Czech by Alex Zucker for Parthian Books.
The novel is set in a dystopian world which is, alas, not too far from removed from present realities. Indeed, the backdrop to the story is easily recognisable as a decaying, post-Soviet landscape, dotted with rural settlements, ambitious but crumbling Russian edifices, and pompous monuments to “The Statesman”. Russian platoons still police the area, occasionally indulging in senseless violence and rape. An added nightmarish element is provided by the threats of pollution and climate change. The eponymous lake is possibly radioactive – a swim guarantees vomiting and the intensification of the eczema which plagues the inhabitants of the surrounding villages. It rarely rains, and the fishing industry which used to guarantee a meagre living to the fishermen in the area is dying out. The future holds little hope – even babies are born with serious malformations and mutations. The men drown their sorrows in vodka, the woman indulge in uneasy friendships plagued by envy and betrayals.
The novel’s protagonist, Nami, is born and raised by his grandparents in this forbidding environment. He has no idea of his father’s identity, and only a vague recollection of his absent mother. Following the death of his grandparents, he sets off on a journey of discovery with the elusive and distant aim of eventually finding his mother and reconciling himself with his hidden past.
I can understand the critical acclaim received by the novel. Through its theme of the “personal Odyssey”, it taps into the reserves of myth and legend which give gravitas to this coming-of-age story. At the same time, the dystopian elements and reference to climate change give The Lake a gritty, contemporary edge. Yet, it is a novel which I found difficult to actually “like”. It is unremittingly, uncompromisingly bleak and confronts the protagonist (and reader) with all sorts of tragedies and degrading situations. I’ve read countless horror stories which are jollier than this. Although the ending vaguely suggests the possibility of hope, this remains a distant glimmer. None of the characters is perfect (not least Nami himself) although possibly some of the stronger female characters, Zaza in particular, come close.
A well-written
novel then and, in its own dark way, an unforgettable experience but one which
should be approached in the right mood, and with full understanding that this
will be no comfort read.
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