Alisa Ganieva - Bride and groom

PRAISE FOR The Mountain And The Wall

Alisa Ganieva has aimed to write in clear-eyed fashion about her homeland, a region that has been racked by violence fueled by criminal and clan elements and an Islamic insurgency.

CELIA WREN, The Washington Post

A brilliant book.

ANTHONY MARRA, author of A Constellation of Vital Phenomena

Ganieva weaves a lovely and intricate tapestry for her reader of the various factors that might influence Caucasian identityin no way disconnected from those that allow the borrowed fundamentalism to fill the power vacuum in the novel.

LINDSAY SEMEL, Asymptote

[The Mountain and the Wall] reminds us why reading world literature can be so compelling... It is a mass disaster novel as viewed through the eyes of young adults who mostly just want the freedom to dance, listen to music, and engage in courtship behavior, however clumsy.

ROB VOLLMAR, World Literature Today (Editors Pick)

The land, seen in its beauty and the depths of the past, is the beating heart of Ganievas novel. The Mountain and the Wall asks us to love and understand Dagestan, and the ask is compelling.

PT SMITH, Full Stop

Vivid, timely, gripping, and really quite magical, [The Mountain and the Wall] cements Ganievas position as one of the most exciting young voices in Russian fiction.

Staff Pick, Foyles Bookstore in London

At its heart, Ganievas compelling story is a universal one of a young man trying to make sense of this crazy world, while making money, sustaining friendships, protecting his family, and falling in love.

JOSH COOK, Porter Square Books

Complex in a nineteenth-century, great-multi-plot-Russian-novel way; [The Mountain and the Wall is] compelling in its topical exploration of Islamic fundamentalism and annexation by or expulsion from the Russia Federation, depending on that nations shifting whims.

GENEVIEVE ARLIE, MDash

A refreshing and witty voice.

MORITZ SCHEPER, Die Zeit

ALSO AVAILABLE IN ENGLISH BY ALISA GANIEVA

The Mountain and the Wall

translated by Carol Apollonio

Deep Vellum Publishing

3000 Commerce St., Dallas, Texas 75226

deepvellum.org @deepvellum

Deep Vellum Publishing is a 501c3

nonprofit literary arts organization founded in 2013.

The Russian Original edition was published under the title

by AST, Moscow

Alisa Ganieva 2015

Suhrkamp Verlag Berlin 2015

English translation copyright 2018 by Carol Apollonio

ISBN: 978-1-941920-60-2 (ebook)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017938735

TRANSCRIPT .

The publication of this book was made possible with the support of the Mikhail Prokhorov Foundations Transcript program to support the translation of Russian literature.

Cover design & typesetting by Anna Zylicz annazylicz.com

Text set in Bembo, a typeface modeled on typefaces cut by Francesco Griffo for Aldo Manuzios printing of De Aetna in 1495 in Venice.

Distributed by Consortium Book Sales & Distribution.

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Completely soaked, the three of us dashed into a half-empty train car and plopped down onto a tattered bench. Artur couldnt stop laughing:

Youre out of your minds! A mandatory political meeting in the twenty-first century!

Rain drummed on the train-car windows. We were on our way to a dacha to see some of Marinas bohemian friends. Marina was my co-worker in a Moscow city courthouse, where we spent our days in the basement, binding and copying documents. The salary was pathetic. Our fingers throbbed, and caustic ink stained our palms. But for whatever reason we viewed this pointless torment as some kind of major step up the ladder of success.

Marinas friend Artur enjoyed listening to our tales of toil in the halls of justice. He was already acting cocky, though he didnt seem to have started drinking yet. He probed us for details, guffawed, and slapped his thighs in delight.

No way! Youre kidding me!

Really, Arturchik, Im not making it up, flirted Marina, playing along. Starting this week, we have to show up to work half an hour early for the departmental briefing so the whole team can discuss the latest news. We need to build solidarity against the enemy.

What enemy?

A treacherous foe who bares his rotten maw, Marina recited, and dreams of breaking our bonds.

You mean our spiritual bonds?

Duh, Arturchik.

The train doors squealed open and admitted a disheveled-looking man in rubber boots with an accordion. He was playing a plaintive song with a vaguely familiar melody. I was about to lean over and ask Marina if she knew what it was, but, ashamed of my ignorance, I gave up on the idea and just wriggled my foot.

So, have you been in Moscow long, Patya? Arturchik asked, raising his voice over the sounds of the accordion.

A year! I shouted into his ear, leaning across Marina. My older brother suggested that I come and work in Moscow for a while.

There was no need to go into the detailsthat Id been invited for just a year, and now the year was over, and at this point it was looking as though Id have to go back home to my town, an outlying suburb near the city.

The melody, its title still a mystery, floated down the aisle and wafted into the next car; the city outside the windows rushed past, bouncing and splashing in the June rain, unwilling to release us. It was chilly for summertime, and Marina was bundled up in her sweater. For some reason she had undertaken to share gratuitous details about me with Artur:

Bear in mind, Patya is not going to drink any of your Sambuca. She doesnt drink. Thats how it is in her country Islam. Right, Patya?

Marina just couldnt get it through her head that Im not a foreigner and that I personally do not observe any such prohibition. But I decided to let her go on.

And dont even think of hitting on her, continued Marina, itll drive away all her Dagestani suitors.

You have a lot of suitors? Artur squirmed in delight.

Not a single one! I objected.

Marina was thinking of a few losers Id gone out with. One guy had stumbled across me in a social network group and had started bombarding me with quotes from pop psychology and self-help books. Hed made himself out to be a seasoned intellectual. When I learned that the know-it-all was from near my hometown, I felt a spark of interest and agreed to meet him.

What a mistake that had been! My beau turned out to be a tall lughead with nasty little eyes. The moment I saw him, I wanted to turn and run, but he spotted me from a distance and waved a rolled-up copy of Money magazine in my direction. Obviously hed recognized me from my photo.

He started in right in. Whats your trade?

I dont have one. Im not in business, I parried.

We had already taken a few steps down the street before he reacted: